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THE WOMEN I HAVE LOVED

  A Collection of Poems

  By

  Mia Tyson

  * * * * * *

  PUBLISH BY:

  The Women I Have Loved

  Copyright © 2012 by Mia Tyson

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  Excess

  When you had no one and your world was falling apart,

  you clung to me like hopeless romantics cling to love.

  Like children cling to optimism.

  Like I cling to the edges of your personality, desperate to keep my grip.

  Night after night of licking your wounds and mending your bruised ego.

  Riding wave after wave of your mind trips, blindly.

  Needless to say, I got lost…

  Needless to say, you were nowhere around to find me.

  You say

  “She reminds me of you.”

  Which only makes me wonder if I was somehow too familiar.

  Did I give you too much love?

  Did I handle you with too much care?

  Was I too much me?

  Because love times love still equals the same love, to me.

  I Could Love You and You Would Never Know

  It was so much more to me than just another name on a list.

  Than another notch on my belt or headboard.

  In those moments, everything that was wrong felt more than right and I needed you more than I had ever needed anything in my life.

  Whisper soft kisses around the contours of your body as I explored and memorized…

  Explored and memorized…Because I thought you would be here to stay…

  I now knew you better than I ever had.

  Under black lights, glowing purple in a room that was meant for more than one, you were mine.

  Your fingerprints matched the wall paint, and the furniture and the hardwood floors and it felt like you belonged here.

  You were home here.

  For you, the feeling was fleeting while mine lasted long after you left my bed.

  After the sheets turned cold and the lights were white again.

  I’ve always been unnaturally intrigued by you, but that took me over the edge.

  Somehow you didn’t see it.

  I could love you and you would never know, blinded by your inability to commit and your fear of always missing out on something.

  I Find You

  I find you between the lines of pages never written on, in books I never intended on writing in.

  Between air and the words you never intended to speak.

  I find you lost among the fibers of 1000 thread Egyptian cotton; you were once so breathable but now, when I inhale you, it’s like cigarette smoke, or LA smog, or monoxide…you’re no good for me.

  I find you in the bark of trees that we use to lay beneath when things were still good between us.

  I find you in empty McDonald sandwich wrappers and Johnny Rocket milkshake cups and once, I even found you in a half eaten pint of Ben & Jerry’s before I threw it away…I had lost my appetite.

  I find you in Barnes and Noble books that we never bought, instead laid sprawled out on their floor reading together.  The same books I buy now, if only to feel closer to you.

  I found you in between the ink of my tattoos, even the ones that have nothing to do with you.

  I find you in murder mystery marathons on lazy Sunday afternoons and it seems that I can always find you when I am pitying myself and licking my own wounds.

  I find you in old video camera lens, the same ones that you would tell me to get out of your face.

  And I can always find you in the 2nd and 3rd Harry Potter movies.

  I find you in my little cousins laugh; he always liked you the best and I find you in my mother's frown; she never quite warmed up to you.

  I find you in the right ventricle of my heart and flowing through my aorta.

  I find you everywhere except lying on Egyptian cotton, or eating Ben & Jerry’s, or reading in Barnes and Noble or watching murder mysteries or in front of the lens.

  You are everywhere short of beside me

  Love Letter to Love Personified

  Dear Love,

  You found me late in life.

  This, I suppose, was good because by then, I was truly able to recognize and sense when you were around. You must have also known my poor little heart could only take so much, so you spared me until I was strong enough to pick up the pieces, you would inevitably shatter me into, off the ground.

  You first bumped into me in the hall of LaGuardia in the form of Eli when I was fifteen. You remembered me from Junior High, where you either didn't pay attention to me or didn't notice me because I was only there for two months before transferring to a "better" school. Either way, you were here now, after every class, ready to hold every book and even be walked over when I took you for granted. Eventually you got fed up and decided I wasn't ready. You left and I only saw you in passing, roaming the school corridors. We later reconciled, only for you to disappear again, but I didn't miss you the second time around.

  I wouldn't see you again until midway through junior year, but when it rains, it pours. You came washing over me; rogue waves engulfing as they pulled me in. You were Stefanee and you made me doubt that Eli was ever you. Perhaps, instead, that was your cousin...

  What was her name?

  Lust.

  You ripped me apart and I thrived on every moment; so much that I must have been a masochist. It took you longer to leave me this time because I learned how to hold onto the things I wanted most, so every time you pushed me over the edge, I found a way to climb back up, but my grip finally slipped three years later. We still played together on those jagged rocks for months until you outgrew our games and decided you were better off building dreams with someone else. You eventually evanesced...

  I went out searching and found you, diluted in Melissa and though you were weak, you were different, and wild and unfettered; I couldn't keep my eyes off of you. That's when I learned you had multiple personalities and in your most bi-polar of moments, you succeeded in committing suicide when you cut the wrist that held Stefanee and me together. I often wondered why you would do such a thing; leaving me with nothing but destruction.

  I ran.

  Ran and hid so long that when you came around in Taina, Leydi, Tarra and Lynda, I easily eluded your maze. Lust became my comforter, personified in five feet of sexual tension and a broken heart that matched my own. We fed off of each other when the need arouse...which was often.

  I hadn't seen you in so long that when you called two years later, I couldn't recognized your voice. I later broke down and cried because you manifested as Stefanee again and I wondered why you were so vindictive. I suppressed the "I told you so" pressing on the back of my vocal cords, instead offering myself to you as it you had never hurt me.

  I'm not sure if I fell for you or your familiarity but regardless, I still tumbled, scrapping my knees in the process. You continuously left me with scars that I habitually covered with tattoos. Your attention filling the void that you concurrently created and that attention, for some time, was endless so I hardly felt empty. But eventually you moved on, as I expected you to, so instead of a head on collision, you only gave my heart a fender bender.

  Thank you for your mercy.

  I watched as you found your counterpart in the heart of another and let your fingers slip from the
spaces between mine; hardly putting up a fight. Conceding that perhaps, I did something wrong in my past life that made me unworthy of keeping you longer than fleeting moments. You told me last that I was "too perfect"; whatever the fuck that meant.

  It wouldn't cause wonder if you called me, moons from now, and we fell into bed again, because the one you ran to was "too imperfect"...again. And knowing me, I'd take a look at the lessons I learned from the mistakes I made and disregard them all the same, just to be engulfed by your waves again.

  Untitled

  I was always on your side, while you cried to me as girl after girl tore your fragile little heart into pieces.

  I was there.

  Telling you shit like, “They don’t deserve someone like you.”

  Funny how time passed and I eventually got burned by you

  And now

  As I take a step back and reflect,

  I realized that maybe you got everything that was coming to you.

  Regret

  I want to jump.

  Take a leap of faith with you, but something holds me back.

  You aren’t safe or stable.

  She was safe.

  She was stable.

  And you, in all your chaotic glory, came and left nothing but destruction in your wake.

  Like people can’t stop staring at car accidents on the interstate,

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.

  You fascinated me, like shiny things to ravens.

  So blinded by your glitz,

  that I couldn’t see I was losing my grip on the one thing that I needed most.

  I guess everything that glitters ain't gold.

  I’d hate to believe that you came into my life only to destroy it and then leave me alone with my mistakes.

  Forever alone to live with the only regret I’ve ever had…

  Leaving her.

  Or rather,

  Ever loving you.

  Renovation

  I’d rather kiss you than tell you how I really feel, but you are no good at reading me.

  I thought the promises that my caress made were unambiguous.  Unmistakable for anything other than love.

  I thought I touched you loud enough.  I thought I touched you hard enough.

  Yet somehow, you mistook the impact for a good time.

  Blurred the lines and even confused me.

  I could never understand how you were satisfied with being loved for only hours at a time.

  “Consistency doesn’t suit me well.”

  You’re always late; you’re always changing, always on the move.

  While I enjoy stability and knowing where the center stands, you twirl in circles around me with your arms outstretched, never concerned with where you might land.

  Years ago, what I wanted was what you wanted too.

  Monotony wasn’t as jarring as it sounds.

  And you never squirmed if I held on for too long.

  I wonder now.

  When did that all change?

  Russian Roulette

  Holding on to you was like Russian Roulette…or a knife fight.  There was only a matter of time before one of us got hurt.  You blew my mind away with your wicked tongue; never too scared to hurt my feelings.  That’s just how I am and I knew making my bed here was dangerous, but if I was going to be hurt, there was no one I’d rather be hurt by more than you.  I’d lie in a bed of knives if it meant bleeding beside you.

  It was a game.  Seeing how long I could keep my grasp on something so volatile.  And I was proud to say, I held on the longest. Me. And I could have gone longer…I could have.  I swear!  But you exploded and exploded…

  BANG!

  Until you blew my clumsy little fingers away…I just couldn’t hold on to you anymore.

  And even as the limbs grew back…as the organs grew back (because my fingers weren’t the only thing you blew away), they don’t quite work the same.

  I trace lines down the small of her back and when I look, the picture I drew is of you.  She asks about my scars and I lie.  I say, “Baby, they’re just war wounds.”

  You see?  I have never mentioned you.  Doing so would just give me away.  Incriminating myself and letting her know I used to play with guns and knives.  I use to run with gangs.

  She would see these scars aren’t just skin deep.  They are anything but average.  ‘Cause, baby, you blew my away like Russian roulette and your bullets left unique scars.

  Slippery Sheets

  I fell off your bed last night…or this morning.  It was 3am.  And you laughed.  Asked me why I was sleeping on the edge anyway.  I blamed it on your silk sheets.

  “They are slippery.” 

  There’s not enough space on your full size mattress for you, me and the feelings I have.  They push me to the edge and warn me to stay there. Any closer and I’d be tempted to wrap my arms around you and nuzzle my face in the warmth of your back. I’d listen to your heartbeat and let it sing me lullabies until I was fast asleep.

  Thoughts On You

  You never know the right words so you resolve with saying nothing at all.

  My loveless mute…

  I hold spaces wishing one day that you will fill them.

  My bed is always a day; nights just don’t feel right without you.  I push my breast onto its back the same way I use to mode into yours.  It’s too high for my arms to wrap around; I concede with holding myself.  Tangled in the sheets that I pretend are your legs.

  I hold open doors for you, until I realize you’ll never walk through them.

  Announce my presence when I know you won’t respond back.

  It’s been years and I wonder if I’ll ever think something is as beautiful as you are.

  There are some days that I can do nothing else but think of you.  I love and hate those days the most.

  4am

  Hadn’t thought about you all day.

  Exhausted by work and school, it was quite basic.

  But I wake up now,

  Entangled in these sheets as I lay.

  4am is here,

  as are you,

  as vivid as if you had never gone.

  And I know it's wrong,

  I’ve been holding on to you way too long,

  But its 4am now,

  And the radio is playing our song.

  Seems common that I think about you now,

  It’s always darkest before dawn.

  Thrown,

  Don’t know if I should embrace you,

  Or push you away.

  Cause in actuality,

  I haven’t spoken to you since May.

  The last words you said to me:

  “Everything will be okay.”

  In spite of my better judgments,

  I follow you blindly,

  Until now, it's 4am

  And I’m lost in your obscurity.

  Ur memories touch me kindly,

  Wipe away my storming sea.

  But as quick as it came, 4am is gone,

  You’re absent.

  I collapse limb to limb

  In the darkness.

  Apprehension

  I guess that’s the word.

  I guess that’s what I felt when she took it upon herself and booked the flight.

  And I never let someone take the lead like that…not quite

  But what rationalization did I have not to see her?

  None.

  So “I’ll see you in 5 months” was suddenly now only 2 and some change.

  Days, flight and bus tickets were arranged.

  And I figured, I would only get more anxious as the days progressed

  The laws of my habits, I thought I learned, transgressed.

  Slowly, she crawls under my skin, making her mark like conquest.

  She’s calm distress…

  I’m a mess…

  Every time I see her face, I long for time to fly

  But for what?

  So I can say hello, just as
quick as I’ll have to say goodbye?

  Supported by gentle caresses and watery eyes…

  Five days isn’t enough time to spend memorizing her.

  And forgive me for thirsting for more,

  I want to get drunk off of her.

  And I’m hoping she’ll enjoy the addictive qualities of me too,

  So we can enjoy this time again…

  1 month, 14 days to go and I’m feeling…

  Apprehension

  Entangled Limbs

  With entangled limbs,

  sleeping had become quite…

  problematic.

  Poems and song lyrics,

  along with panic,

  pass through me when suspended consciousness subsides

  and

  I realize that I’m no longer embracing you.

  Molding my body to fit you,

  and lacing my fingers with yours,

  you seem resistant.

  But I should remind myself that you’re just sleeping,

  and that gives me easement.

  I guess I was missing you already,

  Knowing that you’d be gone for some time.

  I don’t enjoy the feeling of longing,

  especially during nighttime,

  when I’d miss you most,

  because I’ve gotten used to our entangled limbs.

  Friends With Benefits

  You are like the friend I have sex with.

  But I don’t need another friend with benefits because baby,

  I already have one.

  And her name is Diana.

  And I put the good, no strings attached, uncomplicated thing with her on hold for you.

  Because baby,

  I can take the bad, I’m badder.

  And I don’t mind the strings, you can control me like a puppet master.

  And I’m an intellect so complicated things don’t scare me,

  But baby,

  You’re still just a friend I have sex with.

  But don’t get me wrong,

  Of course I want the friendship,

  And yes I want the sex…

  It’s not something I omit

  But, for me, sex is just sex,

  And I get it when I want it.

  What I NEED is to trace imaginary lines on the small of your back until the pictures become so real that you feel me whenever you at.

  And stare into your eyes for hours, coming up with different ways to describe the color of your iris because I’m an artist after all,

  And my trained oculars are able to

  Communicate that your brown eyes are more like hazel with gold around the rim and heaven in your retina.

  But baby, if I told that shit to Diana,

  She would look at me like I was fucking nuts.

  Because Diana just wants my friendship and the sex when it’s convenient

  And that works for a while,

  Until I start to miss the feeling of cuddling after we make love,

  And the idea that the sex was so good, there might be pancakes when I wake up.

  Diana doesn’t cook for shit.

  Knowing that you’re like those thrift store you love, you’re something of an antique

  I usually need a thesaurus when you speak

  Like SWV, you make my knees go week.

  You’re a geek,

  But you’re good company to keep.

  I want to lay with you and stare at the ceiling, saying nothing at all

  No questions of where your mind is because I can hear your heart.