Winter Fire


I often think about the many borders my tongue slaved across before it got to me.

Then, maybe I can decipher how it curls to speak as it does,

Or why it has become so stubborn.

In its past life,

Has it been whipped into submission?

It's become hog tied and humble;

Sometimes tongue-in-cheek

Either way, I'm proud of it

So never play on my intellect

Because I own my heritage with conviction.

I thank my ancestors for my melanin

For its protection is a compass,

Inpenetrable.

That's how I discovered traces of home in my dialect

Layered and laced within the slang of my diction-

But no one has ever compelled me to enunciate like she does.

Never instituded an eager to articulate my thoughts

Extending down to the roots of my pronounciation,

So that even if I'm speaking in ethnic toungs or another language

My love for her would never get lost in translation.

And that nature of influence on an impressionable young poet is not the style that fades after while,

Amorously,

It's the forever beating expression of endearment instilled by a smile.

And when she smiled at me it was like white warm sunshine on a cold winter morning;

Something so simple as a smile.

So suitable. Falling is something I can't even begin to pretend I planned,

And as I listen to how beautifuly she recites my name

Like it's inscribed in italics,

Scripted just for her,

I just might transform into The Weeknd

And on the pinnacle of my fame-I

Compose a love ballad about how much I'd yearn to hear it again.

And again.

And again.

I know the features of my face don't feel like they correlate with my way with words

But I could formulate a mountain of a million divine adjectives and adverbs about her because she deserves it

And still doubt the purpose of exploiting a dictionary because none of those words are worthy

I've grown too worn out of using "perfect" for her

She is so much more than that

But how else can I explain it

When I placed her on a pedestal worthy of only complex lyrical soliloquies

And everything else seems jaded

This is all about trying to find the right things to say

It's not easy

Because love don't come with a rubric

And if you're someone like me you can better understand

I hold in my hand a hollowed hubris

So for me there is no first chances

As quiet as it's kept

I could never seize the momemt before time slips

And I let go

So sadly,

My swelling sweet love expression of a secret is something she

Will never know

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem