THE FRIEND ZONED

 

Like a tick on a cow's back

I’d always let you stay

To feed yourselves fat from my affections till he picked you up again

You’d always tell me

“a good woman would love you”

“you are a gentleman”

You showered compliments like raindrops

On the grounds of false companionship

Always leading to plant

While the sun of your indifference shone,

No wonder I was dry,

Barren

When he treated you bad, you probably wanted me to walk on water

Like Jesus did

But you would still crucify me if I did

I was good to you

But never good enough for you

I was right to you

But never right for you.

©Conversations 47

She is….

Insta celeb

Snapchat beauty queen

She is …..

Every boy's dream

And every grown man’s fantasy

Her skin the color of the early morning sun

She made Fanta see

The curves made coca-cola go green with envy

Made eight a number rather than a figure

She turned heads while she walked

Swaying hips commanding eyes to turn back

“Was she created on a Sunday?”

They paused to ask

She makes girls jealous whenever she talks to their man

And the men?

Would count themselves lucky to have her by their side

She is….

Beauty personified

But on the inside

She is just lonely and tense

in dire need of love 

in need of friends 

she is a trophy .......constantly put on display 

for all to see... her  beauty 

but what she really wants is someone to love her for who she truly is

a person 

not an Insta celeb 

Snapchat beauty queen 

but a person

 

 

 

 

I'm twenty three

Young, wild and free

Youth is a fleeting dream

Only to be rudely awakened at thirty-five

Just to realize that all the pleasures you bought into were a lie

But I’m twenty-three

Still learning to breathe

Still learning to see myself for I truly am

I guess I’m just like this poem

Free on verses

But revert to rigid rhythms

Just to make people listen

See I did it

But you hardly noticed: guess you weren’t listening

Or reading

But don’t forget

I’m twenty-three

My future still a beautiful dream

Tranquil on the outside but not as calm as it seems

So I guess I am a simile

As and like

Comparisons

Comparing my selves to others

Like teenage boys in adolescence

Till my identity and essence

I got lost in the crowd in an attempt to fit in.

 

But don’t forget

I’m still twenty-three

With the face, I had since when I was sixteen

And believed that first love, at first sight, meant first and last

But instead,

First love was the first to go at last

For what it is worth

You said forever, but it didn’t last

But past is past

I’m still twenty-three

Still yet to know what it means to be free

Still, a lot to achieve

But at least I can express myself through poetry

Through metaphors and similes

The art has become an artist.

The storyteller becomes the story

That’s me

At least I’m my own person, not a wannabe 

But I am twenty-three

This youth a fleeting dream

So, soon I would be thirty-five

Teaching my kids how to live right

To realize, that the truth is free when you don’t buy lies.

 

©conversations_47