Tuesday, January 31, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Pillow Talk

Pillow Talk

I want a love like a pillow, something I can dive headlong into and not be afraid to fall back on

I want a love like a pillow, something soft I can rub my cheek on and firm enough to support my back

I want a love like a pillow, something shock absorbent and comforting to soak up all my tears

I want a love like a pillow, something I can punch and throw around but never break

I want a love like a pillow, something I can wrap my arms around at night and never let go

I want a love like a pillow, something everlasting, quick to heat up, and cool beneath the skin

I want a love like a pillow, something I can rely on no matter what at the end of a hard day

I want a love like a pillow, something I can lay all my dreams on

I want a love like a pillow, something extra ordinary I can take with me wherever I may go

I want a love like a pillow, something simple and honest

I want a love like a pillow, easily missed and impossible to do without
  © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: A Patient Conclusion

A Patient Conclusion

You need space? Okay…I’ll stand three steps behind

And when you get sick of all that frigid air, I’ll be waiting with a tight chest to smother you

You need time? Sure, why not…I’ve got plenty to spend and more than enough to spare

Just be sure to refill the glass before all the sand runs down, else those empty hours won’t be stacked high enough to barricade your heart’s rampage

You need a reason? Which one and what for?

So many I have just to break down your door

You need to slow down? I only gave chase, but you were the one who decided to race

You need me to stop? How long and how soon?

I’ve already flown halfway over the moon

You need me to listen? I hear you quite well, better than any outside your thick shell

For all of your space, for all of this time, you say that it’s crazy I’m still on your mind

For all of your reason, you have no good sense

You still need an answer? It’s love.

You’re so dense…
  © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Me, Myself, and I

Me, Myself, and I

I am me, the only person who must live with myself regardless, and I can never abandon

I am myself, an entity removed from society, forever at odds with the world

I am what I am; whatever I may be

I am comprised of something more than the eye can see

I am curiosity, buried beneath apathy; I am nonconformity, stuffed inside a travesty

I am me, parasitically, nursing on sweet misery

Draining dry the tragedy of this life bestowed on me

I am as I’ll always be; I am someone, I am me

I am creativity, locked within discrepancy

I am ordinarily, lost beyond reality

I am me most naturally; the only one I’d hope to be

Me, myself, and no one else; I am me, explosively!

 © 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Suffering Side-effects

Suffering Side-effects

I wanted to be there when you were destroyed, to bathe in the river of your tears

To rub salt meticulously into each and every one of your open wounds, and watch you burn

I wanted to be the very last straw laid upon your broken back

The very last vision you saw before oblivion snatched you away

Perhaps my greed is what robbed my revenge of the sweet taste of satisfaction

I wanted so much to be your end; as I could no longer be your all

It was never enough for me to let you alone in your folly

I simply had to throw it all back in your face

Your anxiety was toxic to me, a prominent drug, addictive, severe

Every tear you shed seeped through my chest, and like acid, dissolved a piece of myself

Too late did I realize, in breaking you down

I’d only succeeded in crushing my heart
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Missing Piece

Missing Piece

You’re lost…I can’t remember, when it was I had you

I’m cold, so sick of swimming, against the streaming lies

They’re wrong; they must be crazy, delusional, insane…

It hurts to hear my heart, screaming out your name

You’re gone…I saw your face, five, six days ago

I’m dreaming, suffocating, dying much too slow

What happened to the air? My throat is swollen, tight

I can’t tell any longer, if it is day or night

This world has lost its meaning, as I have lost myself

This life is no good reason, to hold on to my health

Fragile, frail, forgotten…your ghost still haunts this place

Your fingers I once kissed, your smile I loved to trace

The smell of you, it lingers, within this tear soaked bed

If only I could have you, I’d step outside my head

© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad