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.

there is no important reason why

you don't need to know about the
mole on her stomach,
that looks like a continent,
even though you feel like she pulled
him miles away from you.

you don't need to know about
how he felt doubt when it came to you,
because he thought of you like vanilla ice cream,
and he was more of a pistachio flavor kinda guy.

it isn't important to know
how many times he thinks of you,
if he thinks of you at all,
if you even know the path of his
mind anymore.

you just accept and let go,
move on,
move forward.
you need to remind yourself
how you loved before him,
and you will love after him.
you were always yourself
without him.

i wrote about you

I wrote about you,
not because my whole world evolved around you,
but because you were an entire world.
you were beauty.
you were an undocumented
species,
in the depths of the ocean
that we haven't even discovered yet.
I wrote about you,
not because you were calm,
but because you let passion
run through your fingers
into my heart.
you were a candle,
waiting to be lit,
a bomb,
waiting to go off.
I wrote about you,
not because I loved you,
but because my words loved you,
the pen, the ink,
the keyboard,
the screen,
the open document,
they loved you.
and I dare not ignore
what my mind tells me to
speak.
I wrote about you,
because you weren't mine,
you were all yours,
but you were able to share a piece
of you,
with me.

they should have warned us

they don't warn you about love,
and the lovers that wont love you back.
and how bad it hurts,
and you'll want to blame yourself,
for every little mistake,
every little chip and crack
in the glass.
they don't warn you,
that sometimes
your effort
does not equal
obligation.
and your effort
does not mean
reciprocated love.
some hearts are not meant to be held.
some hearts are fresh out the oven
and if you hold on to long,
you'll find yourself
with burns,
and welts all over your hands.
you'll put to much pressure
on yourself,
and instead of turning into a diamond,
you will turn into sand.
they didn't warn you about that.
they didn't warn you about how it hurts,
how it pulls,
and how it feels like you've
dipped your heart into ice water,
and you're watching it slowly
stop.
they didn't warn you about that.

missed opportunities

i had to choose.
i had to choose or
you were going to be
the death of
my selfless loving
ways,
and my happy to compromise
behavior.
i had to choose.
because while you were
so busy,
searching for different
diamonds
and roses.
searching for the one
to hold your hand at
night,
and rub
the soft spot
below your hairline.
you were looking for
someone to
fluff your pillow
and cover you up
while you shivered
during your slumber.
someone to be the
ex-tra-ordinary
lover.
i thought it would have been me.
i thought that
making sure you were fed,
giving you your time,
scrubbing your back,
and sharing the most
intimate
moments with you
would have been it.
instead,
i could not have been your lover,
i know,
you love me,
but you don’t love me like
i love you.
i am deeply in love with you.
i am sure of you.
you are still searching.
now where does that leave me.

at least i was your something

it isn't hard

to see that

i am your

3 am thoughts,

your drunk words,

and i know that i always will be.

that's okay.

even if i can never be

the lover of your dreams,

nor the lover you

whisk away 

with lifelong

commitment,

it was a wonderful journey,

to be there,

while you were drinking your

vodka,

and you were 

waiting for your dreams

to come up 

to your eyes

late at night,

when you couldn't sleep.

walking

i hope that me leaving,
brings you a
breath of fresh air.
a relief,
a sense of a new leaf.
i hope you don't forget
the sun
waking us up in the morning.
i hope that you can see the
imprint of the smile
you left in my eyes.
i hope that you can see
the indent
me leaving,
has left in my mind.

nourishment

tears fall down your face,
falling apart
on your bathroom floor,
like petals off of
a dying flower,
the leaves
of a tree,
and then hours later,
when you thought the sun would never
appear again,
you bloom,
and you can smile.
the tears
are
watering your roots.

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.

to do list

I just want someone that

texts me in the middle of the night

when they can't sleep, even if I am

to tired to reply. 

someone that

tells me all of their thoughts

even the painful little ones,

the ones they thought no one cared about. 

a thousand and more 

times of telling me they love me,

listening to my ramble

writing down the details

mentally. 

a cute text here and there

describing how my hand 

feels in the middle of the night

when I'm holding them.

I want them to love me.

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.

I can't keep silent about my love for you

I could tip toe across
the garden of flowers
in your heart,
But
I want to make my presence
a bit more known.

Soul Friends

I meet the most beautiful
people
by stumbling
into their storms
and dancing with them
in their rain.

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.

lovers nature

I'll journey softly with you,
careful enough not
to ruin your leaves,
and upset your roots,
but beside you,
so you can know that
I am the wind,
gently blowing
with
you.

lovers holding

I am
holding
your hand
reminding you
of how warm
and close
love is.