ditch,

the poetry that matters

Kambria Vance

Kambria Vance is from Shirley, Illinois.

 

Unsung song of Wilfred Owen

 

Only the monstrous anger of the guns.

                can be heard from the soapboxes calling for them from sad hands.

Screaming glimmers of good-byes.

                My stubbornness flowers the tenderness of patient minds.

 

Voices of pleasure in the light-blue trees

                and girls glanced lovelier as the old times, will never feel again.

Slim subtle hands, all of them touch queer disease.

                This disease, I poured it down the veins and half my lifetime lapsed

 

Someone had said I didn't have to beg

                Smiling they wrote out my lies.

 

Tonight it seemed I escaped encumbered sleepers to be fixed.

                Lifting distressful hands I knew by their dead false smiles

we stood in Hell.  

                I watched idly by as a tale of potential endings unfolds.

 

After the wildest beauty mocked my glee

                I knew they would be swift to miss the memories of stress

Then, when even truths began to lie too deep for my spirit

                You, my friend, you frowned through me.

I smiled at you.

                Because my forever is too close to stop doing this.

 

 

 

A rolodex of penis

                and yet

it’s still cold beneath the sheets.

 

                fuck couldashouldawoulda

                                just stop

                regrets are for the weak.

 

                                                With years of misconnections

                                                                I’ve learned

                                                to love what is messy

 

                tonight, I will cleanse.

                                let go

                of insatiability with words held intrinsic.

 

 

                                                                                                Dear

                                                                                                                egotistical,

                                                                                                                                Connect the dots on my thighs.

 

                                                                                                inadequate,

                                                                                                                I wear your favorite dress when I’m alone.

 

                                                                                disappointment,

                                                                                                Generosity is power, not a gift.

 

                                                                old news,

                                                                                I wouldn’t dream of it.

 

                                                preoccupied,

                                                                Thin lips hold tight to secrets.

 

                                narcissistic,

                                                I know I am just a body to you.

 

                ignorant,

                                Stop demanding to protect me, I am a force that can’t be shielded.

bipolar,

                Don’t dare me to love you, I’ll rebel every time.

 

shortsighted,

                this is your big picture… not mine.

 

 

Seemingly Unattainable,

                Once upon a time, I wrote a poem

                                where the receiver expressed their love after reading it.

                                                                                                                                                I never spoke to them again.

                I’ve told many, but few comprehend

                                                                That I have a duct taped heart

                                                Every time I patch it, it grows in size

                                but not in warmth.

 

 

For you, I’d peel back every layer

                                And let the old wounds breath.

                A feat never attempted

Not even for the sake of sanity.

 

Love Always,

Kambria

 

P.S.

You will never read this

My tape will stay intact                 I will still flip through the rolodex             My bed will remain empty.

 

You will be kept at arm’s length away,

And I’ll play this with my cards close to the chest.

 

 

                                                                                                                 January 12, 2014