3: f*ck love.

i erased the poem too many times.

seem like love too much for me to string words
i cant perform magic today
the knife cuttin my womb too deep.
i cant play imagination
cant create characters who
remind me of us
there aint gonna be no laughter tonight
just silent tears
superficial moans
screeches of tires
taps of fake nails on cheap kitchen counters
ashes
f*ck love if it do this.

the therapist say i gotta leave you
cold turkey
no matter how much i love you
she say i gotta leave
i gotta go
she say i cant even write you no mo'
apathy aint never been my thing
but i done tried more than a few times
and you still sitting there.
smilin at me
when you dont give a damn.

when mama say she always gon love you
my heart shatters
and brotha said
if im still observing ramadan then i damn sure still love you
been on my knees for 700 days
praying aint did much more than apathy.

f*ck love.