Ghetto Love Song

Ghetto Love

He told me that what we had was a ghetto love,
said it’s the kind of love he’s always prayed for.
He said, “You are the God woman who holds up
my son. I am the moon that flutters around
in your orbit. There was a single star that needed
an exclusive embrace and you allowed him to be
touched by your all-inclusive Grace.” He said,
“Life now has a repositioned purpose. Don’t just
walk and talk, but also sit and listen. I am the pencil
and you are the paper and one day our collaborations
will lead a nation of non-façade thinkers.”
Sweet words like those that seemed to grow wings &
that set my heart all aflutter kept me believing him
when he said we had a ghetto love. Then he played
the song for me and I knew ours was a love so true.
But like everything in the ghetto, I found it’s not true.
In the ghetto you see one thing & know another. The
same is true of my part-time lover. He sang all the words
to the ghetto love song but when I needed him most,
he was gone. Cause a ghetto love ain’t no love at all;
it’s all just for show. Just like Lisa Lisa I was searching
for someone to love me for me when I should have been
accepting only the person who see value and worth in me.
The one who wouldn’t use my love as a weapon against me.
But maybe this is just me thinking out loud
and maybe this is a ghetto love still trying out its wings.
It’s almost like living a second childhood where I
Entered a door where love is filled with possibilities
that seem unlimited, but reality is something entirely different.
We spend hours daydreaming, then depart to a different
existence, one where words don’t dictate actions &
actions belie surface feelings of an under-the-cover mission.
People do fall in love in mysterious ways; I fell in love with you
because I saw magic. Magic in your smile, magic in
your eyes, and your words and touch were magic too.
If only I knew that in the ghetto, magic is just another word
for delusion to the nth degree and what you feel for me
is nothing like the magic love I feel for you then maybe
it wouldn’t have taken so long to write this poem
because I’d already know: a ghetto love ain’t no love at all.

Peace & Love,
Rosalind

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About Rosalind Guy

I'm broken & my soul is weary/ my weary soul rebels, fights/ anything & anyone who tries to heal me/I beat my head against a wall of memories/ trying hard to break free from the chain of memories/ I can only be free by saying it so/ i weave a necklace from words and finally/ I find freedom/ free free free. As you can see, words are powerful to me. As Maya Angelou said, words are wallpaper of the soul. I have lots of nightmarish memories that threaten to break me, but I learned a long time ago about the power of words. They can be used to heal and destroy anything that threatens to destroy the person. Words coupled with love have the power to save and heal. I am author of three books: Skinny Dipping in the Pool of Womanhood, Tattered Butterfly Wings, and Blues of a Love Junkie. I am a high school English teacher. I am a former reporter. I am a mother. I am a woman. I am a fierce advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves, those who's voices go unheard. Check out my Amazon author page at the following link: http://www.amazon.com/Rosalind-Guy/e/B00BGH5F88/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1432491754&sr=8-1.
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