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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is something like dark and twisted love. Um, I'm creole, so I decided that I should included my native language in a poem for once. There are only three words that needed to be translated.

Maman: Moment
Couto: Knife
Disang: Blood

Submitted: May 18, 2007

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 18, 2007



“She’s a[broken]wind up doll repeating
the same goddamn(worthless)words over & again.”
He says then laugh, shaking his head.
“At night she can’t get enough of me touching her,
The sound of her voice ruins the mood.

She loves it when I call her my whore,
Her painted smile feels realer than her skin.
It feels so cold, like she didn’t mean to stay in the shower so long,
But I know she did, and she laughs behind my back.

Her eyes are dark and murky as she pretends she loves me kissing her,
In the hotel room her voice cracks and breaks when she begs me to touch her.
Her cries are pleasing when she takes me all the way in,
Her eyes crack and break when I lean forward and whisper ' I resent you.'

'Don’t you love me?' Her voice is like nails scrapping against a chalkboard.
her words always echo like a parasite sucking the blood from this broken and bleeding tumor of a brain.
'I blame you for everything I couldn’t do.'

Those pictures of her are on my wall, and I can never seem to take them down,
The nails leave ugly punctures on the walls.
And in the morning the pictures are back up,
With her eyes burned and removed.

Her lips are like soft leather, and her tongue is like razorblades on my skin,
Her eyes come to life when she sees my blood; her laughter is hoarse with a joke only she knows.
Her tears sting when she learns of my from domicile ‘affairs’.

‘If I say I’m sorry will you forgive me?’ She shakes her head, and clutches her heart.
‘It’ll collapse in my chest at any maman, can’t you see the couto in my chest. When you leave me alone when you go to your affairs you murder me.’

She shakes her head and her tears melt away her plastic face,
‘ Twist this couto further and kill me quickly’ she pleaded and begged, but her voice didn’t break.
‘ See my disang? It falls for you. In death I will love you even harder.’

‘I have broken you this far? And your eyes are alive with pain. What has happened to your mask of cold and indifference?
I don’t want you anymore. I really, really don’t.
You don’t make love to me like you think you love me. I have needs, I need warmth.’

‘ You burn me with your words, baby I’m warm.
Can’t you understand my burning passion for you?
Don’t you know I can’t live without you?
I resent you.’

Her words echo, and I clutch my head. Her voice ruins the mood.
She was suppose to be a [broken] wind up doll repeating the same goddamn (worthless) words over and over again. But I still wanna hear her words and her painted smile.
‘ I resent you.’”

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