#aapoetry

Do you ever think, what if? What if I’d took that job? What if I’d tried harder in school? What if I saved all that money? What if I didn’t make a fool, Of myself in front of that boy I liked in school. What if I wasn’t born into this family? This country? This world or this life? What if I’d married that girl my mum wanted to be my wife? What IF I’d said hello? What if I’d spoken mind instead of clenching my fist? What if I could go back in time and retract that fatal kiss? What if I wasn’t stood here tonight? Then what would I miss? Why do we live for the past like the present doesn’t exist? Why do we question our steps rather than unapologetically exist? Why do we shut ourselves off when we don’t want to exist? But yet we exist. And with every impulsive decision and 11:11 wish, every caress of hands, every nervous twitch, every failed chance to prove ourself to be ‘that bitch’, every night you’ve cried yourself to sleep, and every time they smiled and your heart skipped a beat, and every single time you’ve felt inadequate in life and tried to cheat, The paper, the person, the greeting of death, We ignite the light in the universe’s mind. We are the answer to the biggest what if, the potential of human kind, and in you you will find, Peace within yourself to merely exist. Instead of questioning yourself, what if?

A woman, a gift in all her entirety, So long were our beings the subordinates of society, A voiceless sculpture, lay your hands on me, Take all that is vouched in your privileged liberty. But a warning to men, Know your woman if she is proud, Do not seek refuge in your passive perception,  If her voice is wilful and loud, If her clothes are your spectacle, They will soon be your shroud, Know your woman if she illuminates within a contemptuous crowd. Find harrowing solitude in the curvature of her breast, She laughs at your futile attempts, To orchestrate the beating of her chest. The same laugh that captivated your insolent protests, To fall for a mere 'girl' was out of your interests.  You may think her skin familiar,  Under your weathered male hand, But be assured that you are lost at sea, in a darkening Nomad's land. You may think her lips a reflection, Of your passions, lustful Tyrant, But be assured her searing kisses, Are chastising rather than compliant. You may think her beauty radiates, Her Sun shines for you, especially, But be assured her warmth is spread, For more than just me and thee. Know your woman if she is proud,  For is it not the deadliest sin of all? Her delicate legs will stride ahead, behind her you will fall, Her smile no longer your mating call, Your beating heart in her hand, your breath doth stall, Amusement in her eyes as she watches you scale her prickly walls, And you question how you did not see past her beauty before, For Mother always warned, a rose has the most thorns of all.

Menagerie of green, Grey succeeded blue. An airy kiss from an Autumn mist, That settled as freckled dew. How I longed to roam outside the cabin, That drew the life from me. A bullet fired from a Northern gun, With only strangers for company. We pierced Earth's delicate, weathered skin, We began to fly with haste, The Capital's incessant gravity, Teased us with a metropolitan taste.