I won’t beg nor rebuke,
Just a thought that runs
through my inner core.
When I think of the old—
the meaning of love
in my mind gets admonished.
Makes me repent,
Refuse,
Run away on my own.
No guidance.
I’ll be in my rowboat
on my way to what the world holds.
A sea of abundance and versatility.
You’ll always be my love jones,
My root and soot,
The muse.
But I refuse to keep you around
With the inconsistencies,
Scarce conversations,
Wounded egos.
I’m no longer the caged bird
I now sing my own tune.
Soaring like a rapper’s flow.
I’d rather be connected with my mind
than confused on the nostalgia.

I'm proud for you,
yet I shouldn't be.
I should be murmuring under my breath,
casting evil curses on you and beckoning everything you say.
But I'm not.
I should be boiling your death sentence,
threatening your life with a gun held to your narrow chest.
But I'm not.
I should be worshiping the evil ones to come and get you,
set fire to your bridge and watch it burn to bitty black ashes.
But I'm not.
I should be whipping you with till gashes appear,
try my best to break you apart.
But I'm not.
I'm simply sitting on my bed clapping my hands together,
being proud of how far you've come with your new life.

You only like me when you're bored.

To the ones who love me loved me love the thought of being in love with me wished they loved me never loved me but sensed they loved me love me like a friend love me like a lover afraid to love me but ended up falling in love with me too tired to love me loved to love me regretted loving me but say they loved me.
Thank You.

I don't feel it anymore,
I cant remember the last time our lips touched.
I forget how we use to touch,
How we use to talk.
The memories are fading,
Yet I see a blur of images cascading over my mind.
The bullet point memories are way behind the brain,
I feel no emotion.
I don't feel us,
I don't have the same reaction I did long ago.
I feel no anger, no sorrow, no misery,
You're a blank piece of paper against the wooden table.
The beating of my heart has slowed down to accustomed speed,
I feel no skipping of a beat.
I can breath the pleasant air that was once ambushed,
But I still have the hollow feeling.
Your voice still echoes in my head,
I wash it out with the sweet hatred I have for you.
I don't see us,
I just see you standing alone with illusory image of me.
I'm not there,
We're not there, together.
Little by little I'm breaking a sweat.

“I don’t trigger at the sound or sight of your name anymore.”
I’d be lying if I said that was true.

I never took the time to sit and think about an M&M.

A chocolate that separates itself from the rest of the crew with its signature M.

Your empty palms await the decadent little multi-colored buttons,

Like they've always said, "melts in your mouth, not in your hands..."

When you take a bite into the cherub chocolate, its sugar-coated shell cracks like the frozen arctic water.

Exposing a sweet surprise.

Children jump for joy when they see the candy,

adults jump for joy too as their childhood is relived in every M&M.

Pop em' in your mouth during lunch-break,

share a few with your homegirl,

grab a handful at a Halloween party.

There's always a little surprise in every bite.

Sometimes it's a dab of peanut butter

or a crunch of peanuts.

Maybe a salty bit of pretzel,

or ooey-gooey caramel.

Whatever it is, they're good for the soul,

Your teeth won't be happy with you, though...

For I...
For I can't tell whether I'm high or not.
So I walk on the moon to match how I'm feeling.

She moved
And I feel sorry for you
Because she overlooked your flaws
Your temper
Your selfishness
Your inability to love anyone but yourself.
She could have anyone in the world
But she still chose you
Everytime.
All you are now
Is a crease in her wrinkled past
A scar on her chest
A memory that fades
Faster than a photograph of you
Under her mattress.
Maybe now
She will find someone
Who loves her
Instead of someone
Who ***** the life out of her.
Never satisfied
Even with her beating heart
In his greedy hands.

He can start over with someone else,
but it won’t be the same because she will buy him food expecting him to eat it,
not knowing that he doesn’t like being spoiled.
She won’t appreciate the way he jumps in his sleep,
she will just think it’s odd.
She won’t think his cleft chin is adorable.
She won’t know he hates it himself.
She’ll feel many tiny scars on his back and think “Oh my god that’s gross,”
but I think it’s perfectly human.
She’ll notice that he wears the same Krispy Kream gray sweater over and over and probably pick on him for it,
but I loved it.
I love the background history on it.
I don’t want her to hear his god awful bad singing imitation,
or get to experience his white people music playlist and hear him jam to it.
I don’t want her seeing him when he wakes up when he’s all bright eyed and bushy tailed.
She won’t know where the scars on his knees and legs came from or why he hates Gyros.
I don’t want her to notice the way he stares at you when you don’t even know he’s doing it.
I don’t want her eating food naked with him in the dark after a long session of love making.
She won’t know why he loves James Bond and Indiana Jones movies so much.
She’ll probably go insane not understanding that he has bad trust issues and that you should take time with him and be patient,
he’ll trust eventually.
I don’t want her knowing his deepest darkest secrets or why he doesn’t wear bowties anymore. Why he’s obsessed with Illuminati or why he can’t grow a lot of ****** hair.
If you don’t love his widows peak or his long eyelashes,
let him go.
I know he messed up and didn’t know how to treat me sometimes,
but I can’t see him move on and let someone read him the way I did.
I can’t let anyone know him the way I do.

I’m my own star.
Choose you
As I choose me.
Thank you for letting me know this.
I needed this
I believe.

The desire for intimacy comes first
The love is what keeps us sticking around.
It isn’t easy ‘cuz it’s a decision u gotta keep making so long as you’re committed.
Definition of love in any sense means
Stillness and choice.
I love u
So I let u come as you are
And I meet you with as much space as possible
For you to feel your feelings
Share your triumphs
Commiserate your failures.
All of it is a choice I agree to keep making.
Every time I make that choice
The love gets stronger.
And so does our level of intimacy.
It’s not always easy
I don’t always do the best job
But I’m committed to choosing it
Each time.

He threw a plate across the kitchen,
Almost hitting me.
Shattering into two and an indentation on the wooden cabinet.
Why are you so angry at me?
He cried.
I cried.
Love Hurts.

Yes it was a beautiful Saturday morning
when I saw you amongst the field of daffodils
as the sun grazed your chestnut skin.
You looked at me with those amiable eyes
big enough to pull my melodic harp strings.
"You can't stay here"
"...not just yet," I said.
The grass wooshed against my thighs and hips
like a tiger, you stared me down.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"What are you addicted to here?"
The daffodils separated us
but I felt your immense soul
pulling me close.
"You wanna know what I'm addicted to?" he asked.
"Yes"
The grass tickles.
"You..."
Frazzled, I just had to ask
"I was expecting you'd say the daffodils."


"That is something I voluntarily can stop."