The Evolution of Myself

Suffocated Women

A woman who cries silently at night,

Because the daylight holds the shame that glasses can't shade,

The shattered heart from the opened flower,

The opened flower best kept closed after hours,

The down trotted, dirt filled, grounded woman.

Can't breath, suffocated, lung-less woman.

The opposite doesn't see our struggle,

All they see is a flower,

A flower that opens after hours.

A man once told me I was his love,

as he stared at my tear drowned face.

A face that if you knew me you couldn't recognize,

purple tinted skin and blackened eyes.

I believed that man once, twice, three, four, five.

Now I stare in the mirror, and she stares at me,

walk out that door she tells me.

That was the last time I saw that woman,

That woman I couldn't recognize.

Feel our pain, hear my struggle.

I am a woman.

I had a man who told me he was really in to me.

My real ass attitude, My beautiful eyes, my soft lips,

the way my body curve, and my rounded hips,

This man was real, this man could be my rock.

This man I've known these months, these days,

but real ain't real behind the scenes.

He was telling her the game, soft words, the sexy whispers,

the lines..Like i said real ain't real.

You know what I mean.

This man was different behind the scenes.

A woman breaths, hears, feels, taste, sees different,

when the opposite takes her heart.

And when they shatter it the senses take leave,

can't hear, cant' taste, can't see, cant breath.

Suffocated, lung-less woman.

I had a man tell me he wanted children with only me.

This man I love, I cherish this man, oh this man.

I gave him my flower, and now my bud grows full,

and I feel the opposite's seed tug and pull.

But I'm not the only flower where his seed was planted.

I stare at a woman as she stares at me,

My eyes dropped to her belly,

I see its beautiful round shape,

Then I glance at her arm in which my man takes.

He kisses her cheek, then stares at me,

I drop to my knees,

I am not the first or second to carry his seed.

A woman can love so deep,

A woman can be all, can be whole, can be proud,

Her voice loud, her mood swings swinging.

A woman can leave the opposite's heart singing.

But a woman can break, she can hurt.

Her muddy face down in the dirt.

I once had a married man, this man spoiled me.

The riches, the mind blowing sex, the moon lit walks,

This man, oh this man sure could talk,

This man would leave his wife he loved only me,

He knows my heart he knows my dreams,

Years pass by one, two, three, four, five.

I look in his eyes and I see the lies.

It has been five and he is still with his wife,

Now I'm sitting in this bathroom bout to take my life.

This is no exaggeration to we,

The suffocated, lung-less women,

Our hearts, our minds, our bodies left on his sleeve.

Our arms wrapped in knots as we cleave.

I once met this man with unspeakable charm,

bright eyed, humorous, hard working man.

his touch, his breath, his life I still can feel.

Oh this man was such a beautiful thing.

My winter night, my day time spring.

His summer life and his fall voice.

Made it clear that I was his choice.

This man loved me I loved him to.

Years on years I was with this man,

waking up with my heart in his hand.

Then one day I woke and he was gone.

My God deciding to take him home.

I Can't sleep, I can't breath.

I am a breathless, suffocated, lung-less woman.

Brokenness coming in many forms,

heart break, broken body, woman spurned,

I am a woman they call death.

I hate the ones that are our opposite.

One man caused it all,

so I lust for death in them all.

I spread my flower and let them take,

them not knowing they are taking my hate.

Only one thing that was given to me by a man,

So I give it back to every man I can.

My love from the past gave it to me,

One special gift called HIV.

I am breathless,

I am dead,

I am a suffocated Woman.

Lips sealed, battered mind,

opened legs, womb sewn,

blackened eyes, lost loves,

Shattered,

breathless,

Suffocated,

lung-less

Women.

This is written about many women that I have come in contact with. We all shared poison just a different type, but they all struck the heart. The significance of this poem to my own story is the purple tinted skin and blacked eyes, and the count down to five. I suffered from domestic abuse for five years before I got away.