Details |
Catria Kirby Poem
I once heard a girl on Maury call her so-called husband a “motivational speaker”.
He pimped, cheated, and beat her.
But she said that he completed her.
Chuckling at the sight with who at the time I felt was Mr. Right.
Fully aware of the fact that is right now causing me to write.
His motivational speeches were to be awed.
To his every move and words I’d applaud.
Appreciative of the educational experiences and even the flawed.
To love someone who never reciprocated. To feel that it was forever when he’d already had it dated.
How to suck the life out of me and walk away to freedom he must’ve continuously contemplated.
Just wanted as much as he wishes he accumulated.
What was made could set a person for life.
But I wanted to be his wife.
Still he sold left and right.
I knew it wasn’t right.
But I wanted him all day and all night.
When times sparked an epiphany he knew just what to say and do to me.
Good or bad his motivation would get through to me.
Sometimes I’d be so happy. Most of the time I’d find blood shedding from me.
This from what consumed me completely.
For almost 4yrs I continued to grow weaker.
Everyday just seemed to grow bleaker.
For way too long, I couldn’t resist this motivational speaker.
Copyright © Catria Kirby | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Catria Kirby Poem
Struggling to suppress the affliction of recollections of being with you.
The anguished filled days awaiting your every move.
Hoping that I would be enough or the one to sooth.
Sooth your mind, body, and soul.
Giving you complete control.
For you there was absolutely nothing that I wouldn't do.
Blinded myself to the unhealth of your abusive actions.
The distractions of money, sex, limelight in "the life" were more than attractions.
In you oddly enough, I found great satisfaction.
Knowing for a fact that it would never last.
Suffocating in the struggles, the loneliness, I've been trying my hardest to get over this past.
The look in your eyes as I'd take a last gasp.
Before I wake up to another blow to the back of my head arms flailing for grasp.
Nothing to hold, no one to hold, no one for the detailed story to be told.
The month long Jessica Rabbit hair.
Not because I wanted to be mysteriously sexy.
Just please don't look at me.
You're too close, asking too many questions, starting to stare.
"Nigga didn't even hit me like that...
The "yistol" got my eyebrow and it just swelled up like that...
Why were we fighting? Well there's no real answer to that."
Most of the time I couldn't tell you, there should never be a reason for that.
I'll end it here while I'm digging too deep.
Thinking way too hard is trying to force me to weep.
Yeah I'm done I refuse to give in.
Ever shedding another tear over you would be a volatile sin.
Copyright © Catria Kirby | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Catria Kirby Poem
Remember that wild child that never seemed to go out of style?
The endless nights of fun, partying past the night is done.
Hair and arms swaying to the music, bottomless drinks pouring while we blowing hella zips.
Picking which one to go home with for the night, hoping his looks don’t fool and everything else is just right.
I’m too drunk. You got more skunk? Oo is that a bump?
Can’t resist the tap tap of your night cap. Yeah nigga give me that. Don’t do that. Sure you can eat that cat.
Thank you for letting me spend the night with you. When I leave what am I going to do? It’s always great until it’s through.
Morning comes at the line of sunlight. The child inside stays polite. Breakfast bonus makes the future look bright.
Just take me to the park. No number, won’t see you again anyway. The wild child must wander till dark. Repeating the cycle doing the same shit, everyday, maybe in a different way.
Copyright © Catria Kirby | Year Posted 2016
|