Wednesday, November 16, 2016


Some time ago I poured out my feelings
And said what I felt
As time went by I got cold feet
Later became aloof
And disappeared for a while.

I was scared of you
Scared of the depth of what I felt
Scared of commitment
Scared of pain and hurt
And most of all
I was scared of letting myself go.

I took time away to deal with it
Deal with my feelings
Deal with my pain
Deal with my obsession
Deal with my heart
Deal with my demons.

I know I hurt you
I know I was cold
The silence said it all
Silence has a way of being loud
It wasn’t you, it was me
I know that line is a cliché.
If I had let you in would you have understood?
I don’t do what if’s
But you’re the exception
Chances of you reading this are slim
But I would love to have one last talk with you

Lord knows how much I miss you
Texting you the other day and you replying back
Brought back all the unresolved emotions
I miss that smile
I miss the hearty laugh
And most of all I miss that *wink*
As much as I hate to admit it
A part of my heart loves you.

© cizoe, 2016

A cizoepoetry collection.  

Wednesday, June 29, 2016


You never know what you have until you’ve lost it
If it got lost then you didn’t really care
That’s where I am headed
I cared
Now I don’t
I don’t give a damn
I liked you
I loved you
I wanted you
I waited for you
You took advantage
Treated me like trash
I forgave
And kept forgiving
How long was I supposed to keep doing that?
I ain’t an angel
Neither a fool
My heart is on lockdown
This is the end of my road

©cizoe, 2016

A cizoepoetry collection

Wednesday, June 15, 2016


Was this supposed to be a one-time thing
My favorite one
What did you take me for?
Was l just another side dish?
Some dessert
Before your main meal?
Was I not good enough for u?
You should have said this
Other than tormenting my brain
Thinking that the feeling was mutual
Why didn't you tell me from the very start
That you Were not ready For this?
If you no longer pick my calls
When I want to know how u are fairing,
What will happen when I texted you about some child support.

Before ...
You get her to marry you tomorrow
Please let me know what I did that was wrong...
Was is my relatively dark skin?
Was is my IQ?
Was it my inner being?
Was it the lines on my head?
What made it a one-time thing?
Why her and not me?

Probably ...
I should have been mentally protected
Other than just physical protection
So I'll stay under the sheets
Till that sunset
That wedding sunset the two of you will watch
For it couldn't have been us...

Written by Poet Flani Qui

Saturday, May 28, 2016


I sit there
Stare at you
I tilt my head to one side
As I listen to you
I listen as you speak
When actually
I watch your lips as you speak
I watch as you form every syllable
O pick up every word you say
Store it in my database
For another day.

I press record when you leave
I replay every conversation in my head
If I let you into my head
You’d think I’m one crazy lady
You reside in my head
Yet haven’t started to pay rent
You sit there like you own it
You touch me like you own me
You hold me like you demand to.

They say when you meet that person
You want to shout about it from the mountain tops
Well I could if I would but
You took my vocal cords away
And left me speechless.

So I will keep you to myself a little longer
Hold you to me a little tighter
Caress you a little longer
Kiss you a little deeper
Let you take me to that deep, deep place
Where only you and I reside
That place that we call ours
It’s somewhere between there and here
That place far from reality
That place where we can take the M+E and make it a U+S.

Anyway, forget all I said I was just rambling.

©thelma migue, 2016

A cizoepoetry collection

Wednesday, May 4, 2016


There we go again
Heart ripped
Torn to shreds
Cords dangling
Tried CPR
Tried pumping

Tears flow
No ebb and flow
Another loss
Time lost
Wrists torn
Flesh worn.

Chapter closed
Door shut
Windows closed

Can you hear that?
Shhh listen carefully
Can you hear it?
That’s the beat of my heart fading.

© thelma migue, 2016

A cizoepoetry collection

Wednesday, April 20, 2016


I said no
Not maybe
Not tomorrow
Certainly not yes
It simply means no.

How many times do I have to say this?
It doesn’t matter if you buy flowers
It doesn’t matter if you use your sweetest voice
It doesn’t matter how charming you are
I still don’t feel you.

You say I will never know if I am missing out on a good thing
Well I know one thing
That good thing you talk about
It ain’t you
It doesn’t exist
Try that line on the girl I saw you trying to charm yesterday.

You talk about wedding bells
You talk about having kids
You talk about making a home
All I see is a dude trying to score
If you didn’t interest me yesterday
Then you certainly won’t today.

Your eyes tell a different story
I see the way you look at me
I see the way you lick your lips
I see the way you look at my curves
You have that same look just before the kill.

I know hunting is in your blood
You won’t stop until you get what you want
Even the lion knows when it’s been beat
Get gone and stay gone
I ain’t interested
My no definitely means no.

© thelma migue, 2016

A cizoepoetry collection.

Thursday, April 14, 2016


Does he take time, to shower or use a bucket filled with water and splashes it on himself?

Does he towel dry himself slowly or shake himself dry?

Does he apply lotion on himself or to him the water is more than enough to moisturize his skin?

Does he pick a fresh pair of boxers or does he recycle last weeks?

Does he count the strokes as he brushes his teeth or just splatter the toothpaste on the brush, stick it in his mouth and mechanically perform the act?

Does he choose the clothes he wears or does he pick the first thing he sees or the shirt he wore yesterday and smells the armpits?

Does he take his time and chose the jeans to wear or does he pick the roughest and most faded?

Does he pick the cleanest and whitest socks in his sock draw?

Does he have a sock draw or he tosses them around his room?

Is his room untidy with everything strewn everywhere or is it neat and ready for inspection?

Does he apply aftershave? If he does it must be odorless.

Does he brush his hair with careful strokes or put his hands through it?

Does he brush is shoes or blow the dust off, wear them and think they will get cleaner as he walks?

Is he one of those guys of those guys who takes his time or is he one who throws his clothes around while looking through the pile while frantically looking for something to wear?

I am curious how he does it, but men those puppy socks are so white.

© thelma migue, 2016

A cizoepoetry collection