A Poem by Emanuelle Cartagena

Bankrupt on Love

You would always tell me the secrets I never really cared to know,

but you cared for me to know.
I've always cherished that, never more than now.
We were we and not apart,
We,
Swayed on chairs, drank-smoked together, and feverishly chanted stories about despised family members.
Even we showed places we were never meant to see.
You know what I mean....
hair, skin, shock.
Laughter is love, not the other way around.
IT has only dawned on me recently,
and will forever.

The guise was our shared ruthlessness.

Dropping the veil over our faces, is so we can't see we....
hate for we, hate for ourselves, and the desperate need for attention.
But when you turned that onto me,
-the viole, ugly, spiteful words and mannerisms-

"You nasty, foul, smelly, disgusting slut. BITCH! WHORE!"

Ad-lib your own profanity and medium-pitched scowl, it will fit.

I cried deep down.

Heart full of blood,
it was about blow.
Feebly distancing,
disoriented,
you plunged,
into your deepest darkest recesses.
Erratic enigmas on those close,
and far away,
further displaced our bond.
Multiple runaway attempts,
Crazed, frantic fists and pindowns,
restraint for me or for you?
I could not tell.
All I could tell,
Was that you were gone.
The you I once found to be you,
died.

Tearing through the screams,

Days of nights,
Flipped to nights of night.
He blew you a kiss,
and tucked you in.
Even with the dirt stench,
5cent wardrobe,
and 3cent dream mindset,
you fell head over heels.
domestic swings and hits,
never fell the oak tree,
Abstruse emotional connection,
despite the lack of connection.....
as fas as respect for each other goes,
bore a hole through your mind.
As you fell for him,
You felled everyone else to get him.
It was all for him.
You apostled through our integrity,
and our feelings.
Destroyed the trust and obtuse became our acknowledgment.
Now the once fervent smile,
has been erased by the placid stare,
and omnipresent slight frown.
Drugs have split your emotion,
down the middle with blankness on one side,
adjacent only showing in outbursts.
Our conversations don't exist,
I have nothing to talk to you about anymore.
You've become bankrupt on character,
Well I'm bankrupt on love.

Emanuelle Cartagena  is an aspiring, up-and-coming poet with a passion for words and how to use them. He has been writing for about 8 years now. He's also performed his poetry all across the state of PA. Manny has been published in Pigeon Bike poetry, Linden Avenue, New Plains Review and online with Earthborne poetry and Haggard and Halloo.