We Can't Be Friends: Ink Spills

Happy Friday loves! Welcome back to another poetry post!


I wrote this piece after a breakup. I know whomp whomp. So I told yall how I'd started dating in the Q&A: Would you get married again? If you haven't read it, go ahead and click here.


While dating, I met some great people. This particular guy was amazing. I mean dang near perfect. He treated me like a queen. Unfortunately, we were in different places in our lives at the time. Things didn't end with anger or drama, it just kind of came to a natural close; all love.


I wanted to remain friends, however, he couldn't reconcile what we were, with what he hoped we'd be. It sucked, but I understood his position and did my best to respect it.


PS: If you're reading this, be my friend again lol. Enough of that, on to the poem...





Ink Spills


Consider the pen. Used to record profound thoughts and senseless doodles, either way, its value never depreciates. Whether coming or going the glide etches the picture the brain imagines. Bringing to life narratives of love, passion, hate, and revenge. Igniting war, encouraging peace.


More powerful than the sword, the pen gives insight into the soul. An expression of who you are when wielded responsibly. An expression of how you see me when your guard is down and you exemplify the best parts of yourself. In your story, I was perfect, though perfectly flawed. I dripped my sorrows across the pages of your heart and blotted out the possibilities of what could be.


Too consumed by what I wasn’t, ink spilled from your veins leaving me soaked from the wound my imperfections caused. Even now I contend with my mistakes, trying to force myself down a better path. One that tells a story with a happy ending. Where you become all you're meant to be, inspired by the way our memoirs intertwined.


I know my lines have no business intersecting yours, but here I am missing the way our words weaved and our music echoed. Missing the stroke of your pen and the demons you slew with the sword in your hand. Tears spill and mix with the inkblots on the page.


I'm sentenced to a life without your words, your warmth, your light. Circumstance has pushed us to opposite sides of the easel, but how I yearn to read your words once more. To hear my story read aloud from your perspective.


Until then I’ll let my pen grace the untouched pages, open to a hope that our story isn't yet complete.



 

Thanks for vibing out with me today you guys! If you haven't already, be sure to subscribe to the blog for all the latest updates, and follow me on Facebook, and Instagram @DinaShanae!


I'll see y'all back Monday, for a brand new installment post of 17 & Married Part 4!


Until then, stay blessed!


Love,



Dina Shanae

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