Till Death Do Us Part

ttt

Let’s stay together,
if not my heart you’ll sever,
till death do us part.

I’ll do anything for you,
try anything you want to,
till death do us part.

Your pain is my pain,
your love is my gain,
till death do us part.

This isn’t right,
this isn’t healthy,
but you say that I’m your lady,
and I like when you call me ‘baby’,
so let’s be wild,
let’s be free,
and listen to no one but we,
let us be one and the same,
neither needs to take the blame,
my life is very you and me,
without you, I cannot breathe or sleep,
without you, I simply cannot see,
our love is ill,

and it might kill,
but I’ll stay with you,
oh yes, I will,
till death do us part.

Enough is enough, except you can’t get enough.
Substitute Title: Houston-Winehouse Love
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My Love, I Don’t Understand

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‘ Reclining Lady’ by Margaret Garcia

Baby, now that you’re out of flesh,
do you really still see me?
Do you rub my belly when we’re together alone?
Do you still hold my hand when I pee?

Darling, now that you don’t have a mouth,
can you still taste some of my food?
Do you still giggle when I dance unclad for you?
Do I still get you in the mood?

Honey, without your hands and arms,
can you feel my temperature when I’m ill?
Do you twitch my nipples and kiss my lips?
Is my love a thing you can feel?

My love, do you like my new waist beads?
I can’t tell, and it’s driving me crazy.
Why won’t you come take me,
so I can be with you?
Will we never make a baby?

The First One Dies First

Hip Bone

‘Hip Bone’ by Gilbert Young

Yesterday,
you braced yourself.

With all the courage that you had,
you told them how you really felt,
and what all your affection meant.

Today,
they tell you that they love you.
They’re here to make your dark sky blue.
You give them butterflies inside too,
so they show you life,
and it’s brand new.
It’s an exciting time for you two,

and there’s nothing,
for your baby,
that you can’t do.

Tomorrow,
you’re going to have a big fight;

the things that they’ll say will hurt you.
If you threaten to leave if they don’t change,
they’ll react in a way that you’ll find strange.
The words that they’ll say will be quite true,
“I didn’t come to you first,
I didn’t want you.”

Falling in Love is Masochistic

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Painted by John Park

I will never understand,
for as long as I live,
why people crave so hard,
why people ache so bad,
to fall in love.

I know that falling is nice,
falling is like flying,
and flying is nice,
but when the clock strikes 12,
one will have to pay the price.

Landing is tough,
landing is rough,
there are cuts on the face and neck,
and blood on the thighs and head.
The heart is broken into several pieces,
and air is taken out of the lungs.
The knees lose life and strength,
and the sides become so badly bent.

I hope they learn a lesson or two.
I stand by the scene and I watch,
hoping they’ll never, ever return,
but people climb on love’s hill again,
with smiles on their lips
and laughter in their mouths,
wobbling with a partner in hand,
to fall in that dark pit once more,
to die again.

What Have Love Do For Me?

love kee you there

As I dey look you for eye,
your pity just dey do me for mind,
but the wahala wey you dey look for,
na the wahala wey you go find.

You dey shine eye well well but
e be like say you no dey see.
My body and blood don hot well well;
what have this love even do for me?

I dey always do plenty things for man;
I dey cook all kind sweet sweet food.
Of all the man wey I don love;
las las no one even do me good.

The palava wey love give me too much;
I no just get strength for pain again.
Abeg waka away comot from my front;
If I love you now, wetin I go gain?

The Love Rove

Spirit Painting- Elaine Clayton

Spirit Painting – Elaine Clayton

Love is death.
To fall in love truly is to die,
to bury you in yourself,
your arms,
your doubts,
your fears,
past hurts that brought tears.

To fall in love truly is to become a spirit,
to levitate,
to float and glide through the day,
and even with your eyes wide open,
to dream.
It’s an experience that gives your body
control of itself;
it smiles when you don’t ask it to,
and flies when you don’t know how to.

Love is birth.
To fall in love truly is to be reincarnated
while you keep the same skin.
It is to be reborn,
to become a foetus before you sleep,
hugging and kissing the air
when they are not near,
speaking to them
even when they can’t hear.
It is to become someone else,
someone new,
seeing things that are not there,
feeling things that make you bare.

To fall in love truly is to want to grow,
to want to know,
trusting and wondering like a child.
It is to be happy,
to be unafraid,
to be very aware and ill,
to be at peace.

For Michael.

The Cycle

GetAttachment

She holds the key to your heart,
after you hand it over to her,
and when things don’t work out between you,
she throws the key at you.
You pick the key up,
turn it anticlockwise to lock it,
and for some reason,
tell yourself that she has locked it for good,
as if she has the power to.

When you hold the key
to the heart of a new “she”,
after she hands it over to you,
you delightfully throw the key at her
when things don’t work out between you.
She picks the key up,
turns it anticlockwise to lock it,
and for some reason,
tells herself that you have locked it for good,
as if you have the power to.

Each person nurses their pain
and doctors their true feelings,
dwelling on past pain,
staying away from true healing,
until something or someone
shows up to show them

that the heart does not,
the heart does not need,
the heart does not need a key, anyway.

Thing 1 & Thing 2

Osun (Giseli Magalhães)

Thing 1 was not thirsty,
but I offered him a drink.
He drank till my cup was empty,
and threw me in me to sink.

I struggled back to shore,
you can bet that I was sore,
but Thing 2 grabbed my finger,
and told me his heart was pure.

The river of love is full again,
the river of love is me,
but Thing 2 is still famished,
’cause my cup was smashed at sea.

So tell me, ìyá mi ‘Kojú,
help me make my strength from you. 
How do I tell me that Thing 1
is all but nothing like Thing 2?

Chiron-ke

Yusuf Grillo

I want love,
I ask for love,
but when Mother Earth offers it to me,
I shake my head from side to side.

Think of me as a child;
think of me as a pregnant woman.

I am in pain;
I am pregnant.
I bear and carry my hurt
like an unborn child
in my heart’s womb.

No one can deliver this child;
no one except me.
No one but me
can deliver my self,
can deliver me from my self,
but I don’t know how to,

or is it that I don’t want to?

I can’t.  

I’m a pregnant midwife
who delivers people’s pain-children
but walks around with her own
still-born still in her.

No one can deliver this child;
no one except me.
No one but me
can deliver my self,
deliver me from my self,
but I don’t know how to,

or is it that I don’t want to?

Can I?

Think of me as a child;
think of me as a pregnant woman.
I’d prefer it if you do

not think of me at all. 

Love and Life

Little-Yachtsman

“Little Yachtsman” by Amanda Jackson

He cannot be the love of your life
if what he has is the love of your life,
not the love of you.
He praises you because you have this,
and you can do that,
but those things removed,
he wouldn’t know what to do with you;
you would have no use to him.