Discontentment annoints my tongue,
like sandpaper,
The indignation cuased by words that are spun out of mouths,
Shot guns to my flesh,
Collosal damage radiating,
I become numb at first,
Frozen at the eyes,
Embarassed for them,
So I float around them,
Hovering like a butterfly,
Observing the stunning nature of primal behaviour,
Then the disillusionment settles in,
Most times their silence haunts me,
How the mouth chooses to remain shut,
If opening, only to speak fibs,
The silence becomes tiring,
The alphabet is broad,
Speak your tongue,
Sing from the mouth the Lord provided,
Use kind words to delineate,
To clarify the thoughts that sweep like eagles,
I see the confines of a trapped mind,
I give it an ear, I give the vessel space tto let it speak,
But I have held skyscrapers to keep myself from falling,
I am exhausted from lifting myself,
I cannot mould a home out of I, for thou,
English is not the only language which can be understood,
If not tongue, the mouth is multidisciplinary
And if not mouths to kiss, then at least use your hands,
Melt my skin if you dare to touch my fingers,
Let me feel something,
I beg of them,
To declare something,
anything,
Yet,
These men of mine,
Are mute,
Both at the mouth, and it seems the chest is cascaded with ash too,
But that cannot be,
If I engendered a change inside them,
Instead,
They evoke the wolf,
Dabbled in the joy of howling,
This rabbit hole of wonder,
Of never knowing what could be,
My gates remained closed,
Yet they visited my mind, a growing fortress,
The gardens of my cranium,
Never coming any closer,
Then I was discarded,
As if disposable,
Like my Mother did me,
Some Men are near,
So near I watch them daily,
How the body hurls internally at the sight of me,
Disconcerting,,
How the eyes scurry to hide behind its lid,
I see him,
He stays strong footed, his body firm, yet a bleak mess,
He dare not say a word,
It has become embarassing,
and Demeaning,
to have him assume my love for him,
to know that there was no valour in him asking questions,
instead,
Assumptions became firm,
No questions were asked,
He played dumb,
I walked away to save my respect,
No mouth to serve purpose,
It saddens me to know of a secret,
That cannot be spoken of,
Yet it disheartens me,
When the speaker denies himself to honesty,
I declare truth,
His silence disturbing,
Since then the other women have noted the attraction,
They have begun asking questions,
I then know I was not deluded,
I keep my mouth knotted,
Too ashamed at the ruins,
The other Men are far,
Used me as a crutch to grow,
Before they were dismantled from the bearings of life,
They now surf the waters well,
Swerving the potholes this cosmos offers to them,
They too,
Silent,
Never speaking their heart,
Adulation a given,
Analogies shared like clockwork,
Growth a sport,
I gave these men up along time ago,
Grieved for them so I could set my self free,
A love they could never speak of,
Ama would cry for me,
Wondering how I could let go of an emotion,
I told her ‘ I could never wait for a man to choose me’
I am delusional,
For ever having had hope in these Men,
Lovers that can never be,
Maybe I am the fool,
Who let myself be fooled,
A heart, not really a heart,
This was never love,
an unannounced curiosity,
Now, there are not enough plasters to cover up the dismay,
These are boys,
you fool,
these are boys,
What would your father say?
Would he be dissapointed?
Or would he be happy you had hope for your dying heart,
in a Land of full of Ash and the Dead?