Any other page I’ve written was easily marked by blue or black ink.
Those pages contain thoughts that I wasn’t able to vocalize.
My mouth wouldn’t do justice so my right hand made sense of them.
As if my words were a deer, they leaped from my thought-filled mind and
onto a page where they adjusted to a new environment.

But now, my mind is just as blank as printer paper.
Perhaps I’ve written so many of my most concealed thoughts that I can’t write anymore.
Writer’s block?
Or maybe my thoughts are scattered to the east and west to gather themselves to make sense.
Somehow.

When they make sense, perhaps I could write about love.
I haven’t had it in what feels like forever.
I miss weekend dates, I miss midnight conversations, I miss cuddles, I miss learning his likes and dislikes, I miss exploring something fresh and new.
Do I even deserve love?
I can’t remember what it feels like to meet someone new.
Is it butterflies? Sparks?
I’ve made many mistakes in choices surrounding love.
How will I know I won’t make a mistake when the right one finally arrives?
Perhaps my love is lost or he also stopped to take an unintentional indefinite break.

Will my thoughts be about pain?
Or confusion?
Seems like I’ve been stagnant for too long,
but I don’t know how to move.
I want my day to be new for once.
I need constant motivation to start a career
that I don’t know what that will be.
My desires and the Plan could be two totally different things.
I just wanna be successful, but what
could that look like for me?  
Is the sky the limit?
My ambition will never die, but I hope the same for my drive to succeed.

Oh, right hand don’t fail me now!

So where will my thoughts go?
What will become of this page and
others just like it?
The possibilities are endless,
supposedly.
Where can I begin?
Where will I end?
Perhaps my hand with a blue and black pen will make sense of the Blank Pages.

-Mia J
4/2/2021

© 2021 Mia J

Yet another belabored black corpse swinging from a tree
like a camouflaged pendulum

That corpse had a name
a decent job and a sincere life
a soft voice and a loving heart

Ignorant hecklers only saw black skin
and acted accordingly

The body was drug back and forth
through mud and
Beaten on all parts until no more
blood was
left to pour out
Its hands were bound together tighter
than the rope
wrapped about its neck

The body hung from a tree-like
a star on a Christmas tree
Hecklers and onlookers smiled like
the dead black corpse
was a badge of honor

Each breath of the wind moved the body to and fro
The strongest breath didn’t make the
body fall
Children played near the dangling body
The stench of the black death won’t affect
their five senses ever

The body had a life before becoming
a sideshow attraction
The body had a life before becoming a
warning for others just like it

Such displays of blatant violence would always be an act of suicide
But society will always know the brutal and ugly
truth

-Mia J
9/26/2021

© 2021 Mia J

Once I had a conversation with a man,
who was supposed to be my man
but he was my brotha.
He fixed his lips to say,

“I dislike black girls… well not black girls, just girls as dark as you.”

My ears weren’t foreign to such ignorance,
but why is darker skin so shamed?
I thought I was ugly with black circles around my eyes and dark brown cheeks.

Skin-lightening products were too strong
for my sensitive, dark skin.

The bright sun was my biggest enemy because it baked me into something my brotha’s didn’t prefer.

Why can’t I have the same preference?

Why can’t the other dark-hued sista’s have that same preference?

Can a brotha handle being turned down because he’s a ******?

Would he too attempt to lighten his God-given skin?

Would he feel ugly?

If the dark-hued sista’s had the luxury...

Oh, if only!

Why must our brotha’s make us feel so down about dark hues?

We are all black and face enough over what we didn’t ask for.

All black women are beautiful,
but the milk chocolate and dark chocolate
ain't appetizing enough to be on your arms.

Is it self-hatred?

Our brotha’s came from black women.

As a matter of fact, we all did.

How dare one of us be disrespected in such poor taste?

A preference is fine, but disrespect because of hues is idiocy.

Like what you like, prefer what you prefer.
Don’t like my darker hues?
Fine.
But don’t attempt to put me or us down to lift up yourself.
Us dark-hued sista’s are as gorgeous as the morning sun.
No matter how dark we are,
we were baked under the perfect and strongest lights!


5-13-2021
Mia J

© 2021 Mia J

What was it about you that caught my eye?
Maybe it was your gentle smile.
It reminds me of my favorite music video and makes me
perk up each time I see it.
Maybe it was those eyes that looked like the most beautiful blue waterfalls that were created.
I get lost like a stranger in the woods every time I look at them and you.
This isn’t just a physical attraction,
but maybe it should just stay that.
I heard that opposites attract, but I must repel.
It ain’t fair.
No, it ain’t fair at all.
My heart aches when I think about how much my feelings for you hurt.
You’re like my brightest dreams I see at night.
I badly want to become one with the unconscious visions,
but I simply can’t.
I have many years of love stored up in my heart, and if you could be mine,
I’d make you my cynosure.
I’m confident that you would do the same.
Sadly, we’ll only ever do this in my dreams.
2-15-2021
-Mia J

© 2021 Mia J

I didn’t know how beautiful I was until my face was in my face.
I said goodbye to pricey hairstyles that went down to my ****
and only lasted a little over two months.
Such long hair framing my face made me overlook it.
The weave only ever added to my internal beauty.

My starter locs were an adjustment after minute one.
They framed my face as if I were a sunflower.
The ends of my locs were curlier than Shirly Temple’s.
So full of life and unique in their own way.
But I felt they didn’t match how long my natural hair was.
Those around me loved my hair, but I covered it up with wigs.
They were nice, but my locs needed breathing too.

Snapping pictures of my progress became my new hobby.
My frizz came in within a matter of weeks.
My budding started in the back and then spread out
like a wild forest fire.
I stopped wearing wigs after month 2.
I embraced my new look like they were firmly planted roses.
I watered them and gave them direct photosynthesis each day.

I kept my scalp oiled every 3 days to continue their cycle of life.
The growth spread like a wild forest fire.
It torched each of my locs until they all tangled up and looked alike.
I became my own photographer, snapping more pictures than ever before.
I became obsessed once I saw all of my progress.
How could I go back to weave now?
My locs are just gorgeous!

My hair changed before my eyes
and I can’t get enough.
My locs showed me a face that I thought needed
to be complimented by hair I had to pay for.
There’s nothing better than just fluffing out my hair in the
morning and going about my business.
Embracing my locs proved to me that
I was always beautiful just the way I was.

This hair journey is the best road I ever walked.
I won’t regret it ever!
Inner beauty is beautiful, but outer beauty is eye-catching.
I love my babies like I birthed them out of my scalp
And I can’t ever let them go!
Ever!!!


Mia J
11/2/2023

© 2023 Mia J



.

A strong pair of hands belong gripped on my thick hips.
Squeezing them with raw lust that will flow through my body like a river of sin.
The face attached to those hands will smirk at me.
His hands will drift to my chocolate derriere.
Both cheeks won’t fit in his hands.
Yet he will have handfuls of my homegrown thickness.

He’ll have a pair of thick lips that will softly kiss my ****** ones.
His kiss would tell my body his deep desires.
He desires to be the first man to explore my love gardens.
My ***** is wrapped tighter than a highly anticipated birthday gift.
My vaginal walls tremble for a masculine touch.
His hands deserve access to unwrap my most prized possession.
My legs will spread apart with no hesitation.

His lips will greet my lower ones with a soft kiss.
My lower lips are more sensitive than a mimosa pudica.
My lower lips will respond with a cry of liquid pleasure.

And he will deserve it.
And I will need it.

His tongue strokes will send electricity through my body.
My ***** will become a swimming pool of excitement.
My walls will separate with each flick
to make room for something thicker.
My cat will eye his hard curiosity and crave a pounding.
I won’t need him to start tender.
My fingers will dig into his back as he enters my moist caverns.
My body will become his possession.
He will kiss my lips,
cheeks, and
neck as he conquers my body.

But missionary won’t be enough.

No,

I would need him behind me.
My cheeks will bounce off his pelvis and then clap together.
The clapping sounds will sound like a standing ovation to my ears.
Or that of me being in deep trouble.
The man won’t be mad.
Just overly excited.

My sheets and female region will be a mess.
So will his crotch.
His musky scent will be buried inside of me.
My juicy scent will lace the shaft of his ****.
Permanently.

I could touch myself regularly.
But his touch will be more satisfying.
My wet lips are his
and no other hand or shaft
could ever change that.

-Mia J
8/29/2021

© 2021 Mia J

I crave your taste every day.
I picked you on a bright summer day
among other berries like you.  
But your rough yet mushy exterior
tempted my senses one too many times.
As black as the midnight skies you are,
your taste is as delectable as your kiss.
Your juices coat my tongue and flow
down my throat like wine thrown in the air.
I constantly crave it.
One bite of you sets my tastebuds ablaze.

You’re just so juicy.
Each drop of you is beneficial
for my body.
Your Vitamin C brightens my skin
and works and relaxes my brain.
You assist with my sight and keep
me healthy and energetic.
You quench my thirst and fill my
belly,
each and every time.  
My peach adores you most.
Each bite of you makes her bigger.
Rounder, and fuller than a full moon.
She craves your sweet presence
as much as I do.

Your fruit is far from forbidden.

You’re just too tempting to
hold out for more than one
or two days at a time.  
I crave you everyday of the week.
You make my body feel wanted
and my being feel desired.

May I please just have you every day?
  
© 2024 Mia J