Island Soul City Dreams

I love New York, but my heart has a Caribbean beat. It pulsates to the traditions of my people. Attuned to the rhythms of this City, I stay West Indian to the bone. I reflect. I analyze. I speak my mind. ~ I Keep it Irie ~

Haunted

I’ve been sleeping with the lights turned on;

It feels less lonely that way.

I’ve been sleeping with the lights turned on,

It makes his side of the bed seem less empty,

That now cold space where he used to lie down,

Where he’d taste my lips and we’d become one,

Wrapped in his warm embrace drifting

Off together into dreamland.

I’ve been sleeping with the lights turned on,

The door no longer left opened for him.

I’ve been sleeping with the lights turned on,

So when I roll over in the night I can see

That even though his scent lingers on the pillow,

And I can feel his hot air brush against my neck

As I breathe in rhythm to his snoring,

He’s really not there.

I’ve been sleeping with the lights turned on,

So there’s no shadow to fool me he’s near.

I’ve been sleeping with the lights turned on,

Afraid to be left in the dark with my thoughts;

Thoughts of love lost, of loved ones passed.

He might as well have been one such ghost,

As I’ve been sleeping with the lights turned on,

Hoping I can stop being haunted

By the memories of him.

– by Maquita “Queenie” Peters 

~ I Keep it Irie ~

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