You know what I thought
When I was falling
Off that building and
I went into panic mode?
The last thing that
My stupid brain
Could come up with?
"Won't they be sorry"

You are all the things
That are wrong with you
It's not the alcohol
Or the drugs
It's you, alright?
It's. You.

The world
had to stop
For this victory
I'm joyus
I'm angry
I'm still angry
I want to bring black life
Into this world without
Us having to
Do this ****
I want us
To grow old,
Be unscathed,
Be unbothered,
And flourish

Loss is
a collaborative art
Between the people
Who leave us
And those
who remain
We dance with
the shadows
Of their absence

Seems unreal
And abstract
A string of zeros
That exists in some
Strange place
Of its own

the small voice saying:
"why did she let me go"
is a broken record
that I cannot change.