poetry

Weather To Whether

When the eye of the storm opened. 
I closed my eyes. 

For inside my blind aspects, 

I could better visualize.

The depths to a fictional heart’s premonition . 

As the shallow end of its pool, glimmered with more recognition.

Caught me off guard though, 

for I thought, I knew this love by heart.

Its wants, desires and needful important parts .

Oftentimes feeling the victimization of certain defeat.

As my heart’s gentle nature, was  always doomed to repeat.

I catered to the severity of passion’s kept,  asking for fates guidance for intended steps.

Expectations, fell superficially to an all time low, shortened by tight reigns, that hauled a large ego.

While possessing miles of narcissistic pleas. 

As the unmended portions of my heart became driven, to take lead.

Though the distance that existed,  was measured by wasted time.  

A million seconds late crossing the finish line. 

Eyes still damp from the previous storm, as love is now sought out by a fine tooth comb. 

Fair warnings by the mind, 

were vastly ignored, 

for a heart can’t read fine print  masqueraded of past horrors.

Missing pieces to the puzzle 

riddled my heart’s peace,  

from another’s brokenness that refused to cease. 

When the tornado came, my minds eye’s opened, 

for it refused to adhere to the unmeshed, contents unspoken. 

The broken have no need to run concurrent together, 

for unbalanced hearts never enjoy the same weather.

By Tamara L Dorsey-Moore

Thinker on the Loose

Copyright 2016 Reserved purposes intended for and by

Tamara L Dorsey-Moore 

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