history

chai tea.
microphones.
baguettes.
and the scent of dark liquors.

next time someone calls me a bitch,
i will proceed to punch them in the face.

i will not question what i did to deserve that treatment.

i will not cry.

i will inflict pain.
the one time waited on a heart, they took the peace from my time.

i could not focus on the seasons changing outside.

i could not go without reminders and reassurance.

i felt tied to a dead horse.

i was the dead horse.
i remember exactly how the handprint got on the wall,

i remember exactly how it felt.

(it is not me that is the freak, but shit those times were good too)  

i questioned whether a person can get too comfortable

with their hand around someone's throat.

with their hand around somebody's heart.
do i remember. yes.
i don't mind the memories much, they weren't all bad.
you weren't all bad.
i wasn't all bad.
a lot of it was good.
do i miss you?
sometimes the best answer to a question is hidden

somewhere where it doesn't need to be known

waiting for the right time to appear,

if to appear at all.

love doesn't fade,

real love.
but at the same time,
I'm not sure love hides,
or hurts,
or disappears.
I'm not sure what your mentality
made me out to be
when in reality,
it seemed like you hated me.
but that's okay,
I have nothing but respect for your grind
anyways.
Just don't act like it was me,
who urgently walked away.
I just didn't want to be that girl,
who gave you the world,
while you took the light
from her heart,
and left her with nothing but
an ball of darkness.
I would have waited for you,
but you tried to have a smart girl
doing stupid things,
and honey that's just not for me.
I still care for you,
I am still there for you.
But I don't have time to deal with mind
games,
you need to be upfront
with what you're wanting to say.
Or you need to just continue
admiring me
from a distance,
your call.
your choice.
I will always be surrounded by love,
regardless.

womanhood (10 through 12)

X

you are a woman.

brilliantly, beautifully

a goddess

created to bring bloom

to the flowers,

and sun 

to the rainy days. 

XI

queen,

sometimes you

let your love

fall into the hands

of thieves.

that doesn't mean

you should give

your love

any less.

XII

have you watched

the way 

your skin lights up

when you dance in the sun,

and sing with the moon?

you are one

with mother earth.

spring fools

try and tell me
that i am not honey
to your wounds,
and i will question
why you ignore the
blatant truth.
my love spreads on your
body
like butter
on warm biscuits,
and goes deep
inside of you
like a humming bird,
tasting a sweet
hibiscus flower.
yet, you still act,
like i am not
the most beautiful
love
you have ever
encountered?

Womanhood (7 through 9)

part VII
a step forward
in a word dominated
by men,
unaware of the
strength of being gentle,
by a woman
is contagious.

part VIII
she let the words
of her heartbreak
of her oppression
of her compassion
fall from her lips,
like delicate flowers
from a magnolia tree.

part IX
you can ask a woman
can she walk in heels,
but know for sure,
she can walk into a room,
and let her confidence
shine brighter than the sun.

Her (skin)

Africa (Brown is Beauty)

beauty.
descendants of
the melanin rich
motherland.
the birth of
royalty.
the holder of beauty.
the country of
grace,
strength,
constant beginnings
after attempted endings.
brown will always
be beautiful.
we will always be
thankful
for your giving.

in love with self

I am
The flower
That bloomed
In the closet
That stood tall
In the lonely garden.
That showed love
To the broken hearted.

3 Months of Solitary

Month One.

A single flower

Blooming

in a dark room

fed Confusion,

Disgust,

and 

Frustration. 

Month Two. 

Flowers

grow

even in the darkest

places,

even the most

beautiful flowers,

find

solitude

in a lonely

garden.

Month Three.

the flower

sprouts

a

bud.

Space

Maybe
my world
and your world
were meant to collide
and create a beautiful universe
on its own.
Something only we
would understand.

Journey

I
broke
many oceans,
climbed
many mountains,
cried
many tears
to get here.
my shoes are broken,
but my soul is
stronger,
now that I know
how
calm
alone is.

the cycle of forgettting

I didn't realize how badly
I wanted you around,
until you decided
to describe me
as something that you
constantly remember.
After not spending
over 15 years,
in the home
that nursed my scabbed
knees,
and held my
Sunday dinners,
I could barely remember
what color the walls were.
(how interesting is it
that I remember the short
rose bush
that housed pink roses,
outside in the front of the house)
I thought I would have a
harder time
remembering something
that I thought
I had forgotten.
I thought I had forgotten you.
Love showed me otherwise.
(The roses are still blooming)

One Day, You will love me

to the man that will love me
unconditionally,
for eternity.
your gentleness is appreciated.
your sensitivity,
when the world tells you to be
hard,
is noticed,
and adored.
your strength to tell me
the truth,
even when it burns the
tip of your tongue,
I am thankful for that.
While you learn
the curves of my body,
as well as the change
in my tone,
patience will be understood,
forgiveness will be known,
love will always be there.

stop forcing yourself

I am starting to realize
that my alone time
is just as valuable
than my time with others.
I am learning this,
after years of forcing myself
to be in an overwhelming amount
of social situations,
for too long
for the sake of society's
"guidelines".
I am happier now.

understanding

I want him to understand
that sometimes,
I am full of an innocent joy.
I will wake up,
as goofy as a child on an early Saturday morning,
and I will leave corny
love letters
throughout the day,
bringing across the laughter
of a youth
seeing a clown.
Other days,
I want him to be the fire inside of my mind,
and slightly burning up my thighs,
and the kisses on my neck,
and
I want him to be here,
beside me,
under me,
on top of me.
But..
sometimes, I am
cold.
I prefer to be left alone,
to experience my feelings
by myself.
Sometimes I will act like I don't
want him around,
but I will expect him to love me anyways.
I will expect him to love me anyways.
on the darkest days,
on the days where nothing but passion
flows out of my mouth,
and some days I will want the youth
of love.

me

I am combination of demons,
blended in with the most beautiful
flowers.
I am a thunderstorm,
on a summer day.
Don't let me
destroy you
with love.

temptation

temptation.
a manipulation of the mind
to believe that my legs
would be best placed around your neck.
the feeling of a hot shower,
with you,
when we know we aren't supposed to.
me touching you in places
that belong to the darkness.
belief that the lust,
deep in your veins,
will keep me safe at night,
when I know
this is only
a late night,
rendezvous
that should never have
happened.
temptation

distance

Distance was the best teacher for me,
about you.
And though you’re far away,
I constantly feel close,
to you.

lovers in a broken city

he considered me a
beautiful catastrophe,
a city
that built itself up
and let itself fall
over and over again.
we described my mind
as the most intricate
architecture.
he became my favorite
late night phone call.
my favorite
only distant lover.
he was a transfusion,
that would flow through
my veins,
explaining his need
to be there.
he was different,
and he needed nothing more,
but to show his
genuine intentions,
and he received love.
he wanted to grasp
he wanted to understand
what made my skin crawl,
what made my knees weak,
what made rain fall from my eyes.
he wanted to understand how
the sun set every night,
into darkness,
and rose again
in the morning,
as strong and beautiful as before.
he wanted to walk with me.

a taste of a dream

I like it
when the street lights are bright,
and I can feel you whisper
my name into my mouth.

I like it
when I can see how shy
you get when I'm in
your presence
and your hands start sweating
and your throat feels
like a lump of overly
soaked cotton.

I like it
when you call me yours,
and you act like I don't notice
how you stumble over your words
when you walk into the same room
as me.

I like it
how I can feel
how genuinely
you want to touch me,
mentally.
Physically too,
but baby I can tell that's
not what is on your mind right now.

But what I like the most is how
I can feel myself walking into you,
and I can trust what's inside of you,
to be good to what's inside of me.
I just want you to love me,
while I love you freely.

You're the perfect person,
that stepped out of my dreams,
into my reality.

Tomorrow

Nothing good has ever
come out of hating yourself,
hating your body,
hating your life,
hating the universe inside of you.
Take one day
and love everything about you:
the little scar above your eye,
the mole on your finger,
your "nappy" hair,
the way you wake up in the morning,
how your face feels before you've
covered it with makeup
and disgust,
and comparison.
And then take the next day,
and the next week.
Watch how the universe begins
to return the love you
are pouring out of yourself.