Today

Today is not the day. 
Today is not the day, 
but it is.

In a matter of hours I’ll be looking at her, 
laying in her brand new bed.
It’s not as big as the one in her room, 
but I was told that she looks like she’s sleeping.

I will try my best to keep it together
since she’ll be looking down,
but I can’t guarantee that my eyes or heart
will agree with my truest of intentions.

Today is not the day
that I view her for the last time. 
It can’t be another encounter where 
I talk but silence says something in return.

Today is not the day.
Today is not the day.
She isn’t really gone.

written September 4, 2016.

Sunday

Dad took your favorite white outfit to the dry cleaner’s today.
I’m laying in your bed, 
careful not to submerge myself beneath the covers, 
because that would mean you’re really gone.

I went to tuck myself in early this morning.
I was so cold,
but I curled myself up in a little ball instead. 
I felt crumbs on your sheets from your last meal here,
and decided there were other ways I could stay warm.

I bury my face in your pillow just so I can smell you again. 
I stare at the blessed oil that stands ever so earnestly atop the dresser beside your bed. 
It hasn’t even been two whole days since you left us, 
but it feels like a nightmare that’s lasted years.

I hear your voice, 
and recall all that you said before speaking was no longer an option; 
before your hands could no longer hold mine. 
I kissed you when it hadn’t been too long since the blood stopped flowing,
and I kissed you once more as your outside turned to ice.

I don’t eat much. 
I don’t say much. 
But my tears tell it all.
I’ll keep laying in your bed because I’m closest to you here.
I’ll see you on Sunday again.

written August 30, 2016.

The One Who Got Away

I’m supposed to be studying… 
I’m nervous. 
I’m scared. 
Normally I’d call you and explain why,
but that’s just not an option. 

I went from crying to you to crying over you.
I want to tell you that I miss you, 
but that’d be a waste of words. 
Today I have a final for that really hard class I told you about,
but I’m on the couch typing this poem. 

You always do that to me:
Overtake my thoughts. 
You invade my emotional space and diminish other things of importance.
I’ve got to get these problems right,
but I wish that I could make things right with you. 

And I hope that as I type this, 
you’re in your bed looking at the spot I used to lay. 
I hope that your arms and legs don’t feel the same
since mine aren’t tangled in between them. 

And maybe you feel just as dazed and out of place as I do. 
I sure hope so.
And maybe, for the first time, you know what it feels like
to have “the one who got away.”

written August 17, 2016.

First and Last

I’ve got THC in my lungs
and Hennessy in my heart. 
My eyes are wet from wondering if tonight will be our last. 
I like it best this way.

I cling to you - a sign that I’m weary.
I kiss you, as if the moments to come will plant us a world apart. 
You ask me what’s wrong, 
and I respond by stripping down to skin.
Now is not the time to talk.

I close my eyes and whimper as you have your way with me. 
You fuck me like you already miss me.  
You make love to me like you care.

I grow closer towards my climax as you pick up the pace. 
You’re hurting me, but pain is passion after all.
My eyes search yours, and before I open my mouth,
“I love you” filters into my ears.

My lips part in awe,
and in a fraction of a second, my hands are caressing your face
as your kisses smother my cries. 
I’m hungry for you.

For the first time ever, you fill me up as you finish,
and a pool of pleasure collects underneath me. 
You collapse onto me and your body rests on top of mine.

I savor this newfound splendor, 
knowing that we were always a game of risks. 
Yet I remain silent as reality sets in.
This is no happy ending, this is a goodbye.

written August 11, 2016.

A Lifetime Kind of Love

I enter another a dimension as you make your way inside of me.
I don’t travel down old roads but I like the way this one feels. 
You touch me in places you were first acquainted with so many moons ago. 
It’s amazing how my body can’t help but make magic with yours.

We didn’t miss a beat,
but it’s clear that we missed each other,
and I’m sorry that for all of those months
I hid myself from you. 
I’ll exchange my scars for yours
if you’re willing to show me all of the places that the pain still resides. 
They say you can’t get healing from the one who hurt you, 
but I’m here to prove them wrong.

The crazy thing about our story,
is that neither one of us wanted it to exist.
Ink spewing from the same fountain,
as we fight for the narrative’s control. 
There are people from our past, and even more in our present,
who will try to disrupt our fluidity
to keep us from completing what our hearts have started. 
I won’t fight with them, but I’ll fight for you.

Let down your guard so that the plot strengthens instead of thickens. 
Allow me to water the soil that we stand on,
so that it becomes enriched with what we have to offer one another.
Let life take its course and don’t give fear the permission to stop it.
It would be a tragedy if you put an end to what we’re meant to be.

I want to be your reason, not a season.
I want to be your lifetime, not a loss.
Love me until your cup runneth over.
Love me until all you can do is love me some more.
Love me until it changes you for the better.
Love me until there’s no room for goodbye.

written August 7, 2016.

From 23 Gulick Lane

I did not watch the reports, since I was a part of them.
There was no need to read the papers since I know your face,
but that still didn’t stop me from looking.

At some point, between the 12-year-old girl sitting on the curb
and the teenager fielding scholarship offers,
I became a woman.

Was it the humiliation that expedited my growth?
Or maybe it was my fear of the metastasizing tumor
that caused me to mature.

Maybe it was looking in the mirror all bloodied and bruised,
wondering where my weight was going,
pleading with my white blood cells that were giving up on me,
that caused me to change. 

My turmoil taught me that only God can save you,
but first you must want to save yourself. 
My tears taught me that strength comes from 
weakness that is willing to be worked on, only if you let it.

There were times when I thought I was not going to live.
There were times when I didn’t want to.
And although the aftermath of your actions
deteriorated my mind and seared my soul,
I am on the road to redemption.

Empty promises, hotels and hospitals beds led me here. 
The homes of loved ones served as a slight cushion
for the blows I had to endure.
You destroyed me for over a decade. 
You title yourself my protector;
but even blind eyes can see the truth.

The circumstances may have gotten better,
but only certain aspects have become easier.
There is not one day that goes by where I
neglect to replay the film I call my past. 

I am a woman of the mud.
I have trudged and I have triumphed.
I have failed, but always fight back.
Everyday is an uphill battle,
because there is no winning your war.

written July 31, 2016.

Relapse

What number am I on?
My face is starting to flush
and my hands are starting to wander.
I said that last time would be the last time,
but I don’t care to keep my word.

I see you looking at my thighs.
Would you like to cum in between them?
Won’t you tell me that you missed me
while you stroke my fears away?

You know that I want you,
but you don’t know that I crave you.
You don’t realize how I view you,
or that I want to make you mine. 

I wore the leggings you like – 
the ones that fit just right. 
I’m waiting for the moment when you start to take them off. 

I don’t want to say it.
I’m silently begging you not to make me. 
You’re serving me all this liquor,
but I’m just here for flesh. 

written July 25, 2016.

(Love) Story

I begin to string words together just to delete them.
These sentences will never do my feelings justice,
so I’m unsure of why I try.

When your heart mourns the loss of someone
who hasn’t passed
but your time with them has,
there’s not much that you can say.

I erase your number from my phone
just to put it right back in.
I’ve dug up a picture from the spring.
I look at it as a means to retrieve a time
where letting you go wasn’t an option.

I never would have thought we’d end up here.
But we can go a lot farther, you know.
You can overcome your fears
and I’ll be here to see it unfold every step of the way.
Only if you want to, though…

But you won’t.
And you don’t.
So I reluctantly say goodbye to the thought of us,
because for you I guess there never really was one. 

It would make too much sense
to be with the woman that makes you happy.
You like our story,
just not the part about love.

written July 20, 2016.

Just a Dream

I miss you.
I miss your smell,
and pressing my mouth against your
neck even if it’s not to kiss you. 
I miss tickling you with my nose.

I miss singing in your kitchen 
and watching in awe as you rap.
I miss dancing with you all over the house. 
I miss seeing the way you smile when I say something outlandish,
or when I milly rock for no reason.

You are sexy in so many ways,
even when you’re sleeping.
I just want to be wrapped up in your arms
every second of every day.

I dream of a night where we go into the city,
and get drunk and roam the streets with no destination in mind.
Your lips finally meet mine and you tell me that you love me 
as I become undone. 

We get a hotel since 5 am isn’t as far away as it feels.
As you lay me down,
your eyes behold me in a way I’ve never witnessed before. 
They don’t look at me like they want me for the awaiting moments of ecstasy,
they look at me like they want me for life.

written July 20, 2016.

When I Saw You

I passed by you today. 
It was swift and unsettling.
I can imagine that it seemed
as if a train raced down the rails.

You didn’t see me,
but I know you felt me,
because you paused shortly after
life led my feet the other way. 

I glanced back quickly,
to see you standing amidst 
bodies bouncing off of one another.
You swayed rhythmically with the chaos
as if the madness made you feel at home. 

I turned around right before
a single tear slipped down your cheek. 
My timing was perfect. 
We weren’t supposed to cross paths today.
It’s a wonder why we did.

And had I stayed longer,
you would’ve been able to tell
that your tear was matching mine. 

written July 12, 2016.

I'm Sorry. I Love You.

I’m sorry that my worth couldn’t make you stay longer. 
I’m sorry that the way that I laugh and the way that I think wasn’t enough.
I’m sorry that you put limits on my feelings,
because you didn’t want to deal with them.
I guess you thought that they could be told where to go. 

I’m sorry that I let you down when I should have lifted you up.
I was young and selfish and overwhelmed.
My current behavior cannot make up for the mistrust
that past mistakes have created.
Now a chance with you is only rendered in a dream. 

I’m sorry that you feel this way.
I’m sorry that when you wanted me, I reduced us to fun and games -
I was under the impression that we mutually viewed things as such.
I ultimately minimized us to protect myself. 
I didn’t think about a future
because I didn’t know you cared enough to have one. 

Two years later here I am,
apologizing for things I haven’t even done,
feeling regretful about “then”
because it affects us now.

I guess it’s best that we don’t text or talk on the phone anymore.
I guess it’s best that you’re out of sight and out of mind. 
I guess it’s best that I don’t tell you that I love you.
I’m sorry that you’ll never know.

written July 11, 2016.

Dear Black Man

A king is who you are,
and will forever be. 
Do not allow society
to tell you differently. 

Now come bring me your heartache;
let me wipe away your shame.
I will take the shackles off your feet,
and alleviate your pain. 

I know they demonize you,
and instill so many with fear,
but I know the real you;
your voice I will gladly hear. 

You feel alone because you’re at odds,
trying to provide in an imprisoned state.
I know you’re angry and discouraged,
but do not be filled with hate.

I can be your superwoman;
I’m no deity but what is true,
is that everything I’ve ever needed,
I have found in you.  

written July 6, 2016.

Sanctuaries

You allowed men to make homes out of a temple
they never appreciated beyond its walls.
They entered you so easily and left once they came.

You now mourn what was once an ethereal place of peace.
Countless spirits have resided within the confines of your soul,
and now you are stitching yourself back together.

You are weakened.
You are weary.
Everyone has a breaking point,
and yours is swiftly approaching.

You’ve loved men that had no clue how to love themselves,
and were treated like the very dirt you walk on.
You’ve held on to the hearts of past lovers for dear life,
while they took extreme measures to destroy yours.

It hasn’t been all bad, though.
There were a select few who would give you their all,
but you didn’t want to take it.
Sometimes you didn’t know how to.
The residue from the men before had already festered in your mind,
tarnished your heart, and toyed with your vision.

You are filthy inside.
Years of unresolved issues and suppressed emotions have piled up.
The pieces of people from your past have left their mark on you
without your consent.

You cannot scrub off your scars.
Repression does not erase what still lingers;
denial does not get rid of what devours.
I wonder,
if those that have harmed you so detrimentally, are hurting just the same.

written July 5, 2016.