Over and over,I searched the house.
Looking in all the drawers.
Searching under the couch
Removing the cushions.

I went through the laundry
And took it all out of the closet.
I looked under all the mats,
And searched all the high shelves.

I searched each room in desperation.
Shed tear after tear knowing all was lost.
I called friends and family
Even looked in the dogs bed.

I had all but given up when I knew
I knew I had one last chance.
So if you would
And if you could

Please tell me where you put the key.
The chain is smothering each breathe.
The lock has become so heavy.
And no one has been able to remove it.

I want so bad to give my heart to others.
But, you hid the key.
Why would you do that to me.
Why cant you let me be free.

Kissing girls is for white girls
with slim hips and delicate features
whose reputation cannot be varnished
by a few quick pecks in the dark.

She said: loving women is for white girls
because they all grow out of it
except the foolish ones with troubled families
and fathers that never stuck around.

But my skin was too dark
and my family image too well crafted
to justify wanting to mess around
with girls that would leave me for future husbands.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.