Or tell me to fuck off.

Image by Sammy-Williams from Pixabay

Does it seem like I’m angry, well yes I am. When did it become the norm to actively ignore someone without getting back to them. And by someone I mean your family, not some random stranger you met at Walmart! Even then when did it become normal or am I just getting too old for this world. Hello it’s the age of technology, I can tell you’re around, I see you on Facebook active, on WhatsApp. You just uploaded your latest tweet five minutes ago how come you don’t want to pick up my phone.

Maybe I should take the…

and you don’t know me

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

Even if you do, not very well.

It does not mean I hate eating because I’m thin
Or that I’m always full ’cause I’m fat.

Doesn’t mean I have no problems ’cause I live in the Hills
Or that I’m not happy in the Bronx.

It does not mean I’m in a bad place ’cause I didn’t finish school,
Or that I have a degree, I’m not streets smart.

I don’t know you,
You don’t know me,
And even if you do, not very well.

It does not mean I’ll give you money because I have some,
Or that I…

I won’t.

Image by Tú Anh from Pixabay

I can’t marry a poet

His mind is always plenty.
Thinking of ways to put life into short sentences
On empty pages, along dotted lines.

His hand is never empty.
Jotting down deeds that should stay unwritten
On paper napkins with blunt pens.

I won’t marry a poet

He’ll paint our life on white canvases,
for the world to dig into
and make silent accusations.

He’ll turn our home into his work,
with nowhere else to go to
we’ll become lamentations.

I shouldn’t marry a poet

I’ll be the ink spread across the stanzas
The words keeping the book going.

I hope you’ve seen it

Image by Bessi from Pixabay

The look of Love
Is the wide smile
On his face
When he looks at me with desire,

I saw his stained teeth that night
We lit a candle to chase the darkness
Yet, it could not match his brightness.

Love looks
Like a drop of compassion
On a blurry evening.
He lost a friend to the afterlife
The first day.

I felt his sadness, his madness
The time was red, the moment blue
And we did what was for us two

The look of Love
Gave me peace today
I was afraid
Of what the future held
He took my hand
And led…

Know this.

Image by Alexandr Ivanov from Pixabay

I remember growing up and always being asked what we wanted to become later in life. It was a common question in school. The answers ranged from doctors, lawyers, engineers, inventors, and bankers; the big five as we used to call them. Our teachers used to get offended because no one bothered to mention teaching as their dream career, even to please them.

In my mind, what I always wanted to become was beautiful.

That was my dream. Back then, I didn’t know how I would ever achieve that, but I believed it would happen. Beauty was my main goal.

In hindsight now, I realize why it was vital for me…

Once we were innocent

Photo by GRAS GRÜN on Unsplash

Tis the partaking
The first, the sour the tasting
Once, we were innocent
Beginners in this long and confusing journey

Had our foremost, got our penchant
And now, it’s all we fancy

Tis the refutation,
The pretense and constant contradiction
Once, it were true
That we knew ourselves to be right

Now it’s a belief we cling to
And we hold on to that tight

Tis the denial
The lie that it’s all essential
Once, it were wrong
That indulgence would lead to ruin

We now close our ears to the song
Putting in, all our coin

Tis the addiction

It might be what you need.

Image by Sasin Tipchai from Pixabay

They say misery loves company, but it seems today more people prefer solitude when they are miserable. I am those people.

You are always encouraged to surround yourself with family and friends.

It is a vital thing, but sometimes you need to be by yourself. Your loved ones may not understand this, but you should enjoy it. Being alone allows you to think quietly about what you deem crucial in your life, enjoy your company and discover what you want for yourself. Being alone is not always an indicator of loneliness or depression. Most times is not your cup of tea. …

Now it’s too late

Image by Comfreak from Pixabay

The first month was beautiful
Wonderful —
In all the ways I never thought.

We were young, we were brave.

And every touch felt like the first.
All my fears faded in the dark.
We were us, having our blast
Taking turns, working to give back.

Then two turned to three
That instantly.
And my tears flowed freely that gray night.

I was torn. I was afraid.

Wondering why I was back here again —
Back to the worries and the constant pain
But he told me it wasn’t in vain
And I thought he must have been insane.


Margaret Sitawa

Content writer | Poet | Model | Foodie | Blog; https://iamsitawa.com. Come see my side of life.

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