I trusted that feeling..
Probably more than I should have..
I became reliant on the temple throbbing and abnormal beating of my heart at twice the usual beats per minute and then
it stopped...
–the stimulation.
You lost interest and so, here I am…stuck.
Pondering the irony that the same fullness of joy I held you responsible for, TOO, hath taken my appetite, leaving me to rest in the valley of dry bones.
The smile that I once craved, I now abjure and when I thought I conquered my greatest fear, I met you.
Dear Vulnerability.
-Champagne Poetry 2020
Constellation🌌
You only mattered because you occupied space.
At night, I used to look up at the stars in awe at God’s faint whispers of alignment that commandeth thee.
As time passed, I soon became disappointed, but not because the night had turned to day
But that I didn’t realize how consistently still I needed to be in order to see that the pattern never changed.
His whispers weren’t for you.
-Champagne Poetry 2020
Concealed Weapon.
I pray you hear me whispering.
About everything that I was too afraid, or too embarrassed to scream.
Or maybe my larynx was SO BADLY BRUISED and raw from screaming to deaf ears that silence soothed my vocal chords almost as much as my offender’s conscience.
Oh the relief of the robber's doom–
Robber of my temple, robber of my esteem, robber of my identity
Perhaps I was my own offender.
And perhaps it was my conscience that was finally able to exhale, when I no longer put up a fight to resist.
Who would stand to listen to willful compliance?
He said if I screamed, he would kill me
And now that I think back I wonder: if I had screamed, would I have lost my voice?
So I whispered to my conscience, "HUSH!"
And that became the loudest silence I had ever heard.
I coached her
To scream quiet enough to live but not loud enough to die.
I was afraid
Of what I would say when I belted out, or who would actually do more than just hear me.
How would he KILL ME?
Not realizing that I had been dead the moment he let me go because I thought to speak up, but by then
I had lost my voice to my conscience.
-Champagne Poetry 2020
Stop pretending to know me.
Admit that your lack of familiarity causes you to oppose need
Suppose we
Took a risk
And it failed, you'd expose me
And dispose me
Like your last fling.
So I guess I should warn you that I'm nothing like your jerk knee
Profession of strong like.
I'm the most uniform complexity.
I propose we
Disassemble.
So that you won't oppose me
& the result be detrimental.
I never left you.
What would love say to you?
-Champagne Poetry 2020
We have got to stop meeting like this.
It’s unfair to me that you could unapologetically
Take advantage.
Have you no shame?
Of course not…
Because it’s not your deprivation that takes precedence.
I have been tucked under your bed, behind your friends, outside of your mind
Aside your lens.
I embarrass you don’t I?
I make you face your truth that you’re just busy doing nothing and I still make time for you
To push me to aside
Because I’m assigned to you
I could leave and find someone who actually wants me
But it feels better, when we’re together—because I’m never lonely
And here I am—at your disposal
Again.
& I’ll be in the same spot when you decide to make amends
Because I’ve got so much faith in you.
And I have no choice but to you let you run around, because I’m not dating you
Exclusively.
and somehow, I become a nag when I suggest that you make time for me.
Signed,
Your Purpose
-Champagne Poetry 2020
Decaffeinated
|de•caf•fein•at•ed| ajd.
I wanted you to fill me up to the brim, at which point I would spill over as I hastened back to the seat of my emotions
I wanted you to sip me down to the archless soles of my feet as the soft caress of your words gripped the rim of my soul
I wanted you to be the pacing of my heart as my mind stirred for miles on how to tell you that...
I wanted.
more and stronger this time
I wanted you to be more than enough to make me refill my thirst, but you didn't know how because I always let you make my cup with Splenda instead of my normal scoops of sugar and shot of espresso
I settled for a lukewarm pour, failing to realize that you hadn't asked to try my cup of cravings to know my standard of taste
Don't dilute me☕️
-Champagne Poetry 2020
Sexpectations
You laid me, I mean, you let me down. Easily.
You reminded me of exactly why I made standards (That I often broke, but that's neither here nor there because I never seemed to care....if the mood was right.)
So for that reason, I carried weight, for what seemed like 40 days, but it was how quickly I disregarded my own concern of who else you had been with, that reminded me that 40 seconds was all I would need to disconnect. From the moment.
And of course, you didn't recognize the pattern.
How every time, I'd let you finger my insecurities just enough just before I reach the peak of opening up. To you. I mean–– the condom.
Since this wasn't my first shot at back shots, I had long ago, contracted senses of abandonment and diseased written egos.
So let's go raw.
Cause what am I protecting YOU for?
This was about motion right? and getting to them, and going through them, so I didn't require anything more of myself than the bare minimum because you never asked me to.
I guess your mind was just as focused on trying to catch a nut as I was, making sure I moaned at the right times and told you it was yours when I knew that it wasn't even mine in that moment.
I lost the rhythm with you the same way that I had lost it the last time, with the last guy.
Why don't you bother keeping my undivided?
Probably because as much enthusiasm as the next woman could express to have you, there was no need to ask if I provided
Enough.
And even then, enough became a conflict of interest to my emotions that hoped for less impulsivity and more substance.
Instead of going on a rampage to these random places in search for a more exotic sexcapade than the last, I thought I would try something new, and
expect
something
more.
It was harder, scarier, and altogether more demanding than anything else I had ever been attentive to and you were not exactly making this easy for me.
Although you only had ONE JOB…
and of course I’m over here, can’t keep still because I’m impatiently patient for the predicted outcome of intellectual mediocrity.
If sex was all that I needed, you would have not been my option because I knew you would only be good for that, and I still––
and you still––
So before we undress. Let’s. Just.
Expect the unsexpected.
And I want you to get between the sheets and reach your soul’s climax from my heart’s arousal after we discuss how NOT to expect a man or a woman who mentally “let you down” to ever give you more than your
Sexpectations.
-Champagne Poetry 2020