"Torn Heart" by Joy Divi
My love-shaped heart is conflicted.
It throbs like a sound box demanding to be heard
or like contractions signaling a pregnant woman it's time to push.
My heart is half-fed; there is a deficit of black fruits, but
an overwhelming excess of white lilies.
Two voices lead the heart:
my inner-self which claims what is honest and my mind which listens to conformity
It all started when my eyes touched yours.
They spoke with excitement "I want to meet her" as they lingered on something too fine but
daring to touch.
My blue glasses walked passed your exquisite dark figure and reached for your hand.
Acting on impulse, they thought "don't let her go."
With a stern hesitate look, her chocolate began to slowly liquidate into the thirst of you.
It throbs like a sound box demanding to be heard
or like contractions signaling a pregnant woman it's time to push.
My heart is half-fed; there is a deficit of black fruits, but
an overwhelming excess of white lilies.
Two voices lead the heart:
my inner-self which claims what is honest and my mind which listens to conformity
It all started when my eyes touched yours.
They spoke with excitement "I want to meet her" as they lingered on something too fine but
daring to touch.
My blue glasses walked passed your exquisite dark figure and reached for your hand.
Acting on impulse, they thought "don't let her go."
With a stern hesitate look, her chocolate began to slowly liquidate into the thirst of you.
Soon she became your passion, not your enemy.
Your ferocious nights, not your placid days, for they were
consumed by pleasing your parents.
The neighborhood girl, rich, your kind, is proper, is what they want to picture you with.
House, married, lily kids.
Your mind plays along with the riddle, but the inner-self belittles it.
It only wants the forbidden nectar.
To connect with it, learn.
Hold it's rare beauty, ultimately be with it.
What would friends say? What would authorities do?
As dawn wakes, it showers your smooth skin, it dances on your kinky fro.
Memories play of a peach-colored sunset.
You make me laugh, you teach me the constellation of the sky.
I've fallen for the character that leads you, not the skin that covers you.
Mom, Dad I want Her to happen.
Anger they repel to the South Pole, force neighborhood girl in my dessert.
Church bells, preacher.
I know where she sleeps.
People stand.
The other ring is in my pocket.
Bride faces me; there is no love.
OBJECT; my feet run.
Pandemonium.
They lead me straight to Her, my dear beloved.
And on one knee, I kiss the ring to your colored finger; promise to protect you against
the down- lookers, the conformists.
Promise to endure our love and keep you forever in my embrace.
Beloved, forever mine you are
-Arnelle W.
Your ferocious nights, not your placid days, for they were
consumed by pleasing your parents.
The neighborhood girl, rich, your kind, is proper, is what they want to picture you with.
House, married, lily kids.
Your mind plays along with the riddle, but the inner-self belittles it.
It only wants the forbidden nectar.
To connect with it, learn.
Hold it's rare beauty, ultimately be with it.
What would friends say? What would authorities do?
As dawn wakes, it showers your smooth skin, it dances on your kinky fro.
Memories play of a peach-colored sunset.
You make me laugh, you teach me the constellation of the sky.
I've fallen for the character that leads you, not the skin that covers you.
Mom, Dad I want Her to happen.
Anger they repel to the South Pole, force neighborhood girl in my dessert.
Church bells, preacher.
I know where she sleeps.
People stand.
The other ring is in my pocket.
Bride faces me; there is no love.
OBJECT; my feet run.
Pandemonium.
They lead me straight to Her, my dear beloved.
And on one knee, I kiss the ring to your colored finger; promise to protect you against
the down- lookers, the conformists.
Promise to endure our love and keep you forever in my embrace.
Beloved, forever mine you are
-Arnelle W.
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