Shameca Biggs Biography

Echoes of loneliness was his name.
Words and Story was the game.
We fell in and out of prose.
He the Thorn; I the rose.
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He came back to me.
Back to the place where we fell apart.
Back to this aching bleeding heart.
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Dear Dark knight and black warrior,
Sitting here I now realize the ramifications of my sins.
Sometimes we have to lose just to win.
In finding my heart I lost my goal.
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You know there's something wrong when you're the soft to his strong. When he's the wrong in your right. The dark in your light.

And yet still you are pulled to him.
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Like a feverish hunger; the need to touch and be touch sizzles and thrives.

It's sharp sting of awareness buzzing inside me as the bees and their hives.
...