This is for girls who’ve grown to love dark rooms

Grown to love the dark and sitting alone

Crying on the bedroom floor

As I sit and stare through the window, I am reminded that there are things which lie beyond

This space

This place

This exhibition of solitude

Silently serenading the love songs that reminded me of you

This, is the last poem I will write about you…

You boasted of shallow confidence

And your eyes made my mouth water

I saw my father in you

They say women are emotional…

Maybe it’s because we carry the emotions of boys

Who we borrowed hoodies from

We wore those wolves’ coverings as if they were our own

Stood in the mirror

Barely recognizing ourselves

We proudly wore your pelts

Temporarily took away the pain you felt

When she broke your heart

And you came running, looking for help…

This is for the girls who never loved themselves enough to be

Angry at a boy for leaving them

Just because mama never cried every single day of her life

Never taught you from birth 

How to break the bones of boys who are to blame

Never cussed and made threats

When admitting her title of miss, 

Even though she has two kids

Doesn’t mean it was okay for her to not have the man who helped make you by her side.

Peace comes from a broken heart

But never be afraid to feel

When he’s hurt you

Never be afraid to admit the depths of pain that he’s caused you

Don’t let another sun set

With tears clinging onto your eyelashes

Let it go

Let him know

His words are a tattoos you both agreed on

But he was never serious about

Yet, he was never fearful in holding you

And didn’t think twice of the risk that you just might get attached

We’ve been attacked

Fallen victim to dark rooms

Where we unveil our masks

Men become boys

And women, weak, heed to their sleek talks and gentle touch

Slight grab and hand tucked under your waist

Declaring your body as their new found territory

Sticks his flag inside your earth

You’ve been conquered.

The bed was never made to be a battleground

That’s why you can’t sleep

Loneliness fought its way into our comfort zones

Now our bedrooms are graveyards

With tombstones inscribed with poetry

Even though he’s no longer around

Those who enter this space

Have to pay their respects to him.

This is the last poem I will write about him.

For I have chosen to press shut down on this conflict

We deserve more than lies and prototypes of incomplete men

There is a window

With a road on the other side

And the sun rise, marking its finish line

So today, I will choose to resurrect hope

And hug the Son back

Thankful for His ever-open arms

I’ll release all the bitterness I had towards him

Into the atmosphere

For he has gained his wings

And his weight is no longer too heavy on me

For there is something

Which lies beyond this space

His excuses will not become me

The only thing I will retain is the memories

And pretty soon, they too must fade away

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,

It is well, it is well with my soul!

I will no longer try to fill this hole

In the morning when I rise,

Give me Jesus.

Dark midnight was my cry,

Give me Jesus.

And when I’m come to die,

Give me Jesus.

Only He can make me whole.

2 thoughts on “Nyctophiliac…

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