On my 5th birthday,
Mama gave me a mixtape;
A yellow one,
With tiny sketchy hearts doodled on it.
"To help you sleep at night," she said.
So I took it in my bedroom,
And played it every night,
Until her voice, melodic and calm,
Made me close my eyes.
On my 7th birthday,
Mama gave me a mixtape;
A red one,
With tiny sketchy hearts doodled on it.
"To replace the broken yellow one," she said.
So I took in my bedroom,
And played it every night,
Until her voice, raspy and sad,
Made me close my eyes.
On my 9th birthday,
Mama gave me a mixtape;
A white one,
Without tiny sketchy hearts doodled on it.
"Keep it away from your Papa," she said.
So I took it in my bedroom,
And played it that night,
Until her voice, weeping and scared,
Kept open my eyes.
»»»
Author's note:
This poem won first place in poetry writing contest while I was in college. I hope you like it! :)
YOU ARE READING
Dark and Beautiful
PoetrySometimes my thoughts and hand bleed so much poetry I can barely stop them from leaking onto the paper. But sometimes, too, my heart bleeds too much blood that I couldn't write poetry anymore.
