my poetry doesn't speak the same volume as it used to, because there is no him
reminding me of that Brown Sugar kind of love
he's the Dre to my Sid
giggling like a school girl kissing a boy for the first time on the playground
when he reads my poetry, I get such a high that can not be matched
I love it when he tells me of my talent, even though I know what he is saying is true
hearing his voice is like healing for me
words of prophecy that can not be replaced
I hurt him at times, just like he hurts me
during the pain I find the strength to write how I feel, but the words never come out
not thinking about the pain, he is able to beast in the studio, but I know that I'm on his mind
been waiting for the time when our talents can cross each other's path
when the Writer meets the Freestyle.
when the Poet meets the Musician.
when the Artist meets the Artist.
love battles in the arts
I feel as though I need him there to guide the dividing line, but yet I don't need him
a feel as though he needs me to give him that keen ear, but yet he doesn't need me
holding unto him like a crutch, I must say that he has seen me grow
grow as a poet
grow as a writer, but I'm still not at my full potential
but, I know deep down, he would like to see me grow as a woman
so would I
...masterpiece unfinished
Copyright© 2010
De'Shundra Gibson, All Rights Reserved
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