Roads that eventually intersect after miles of traveling
Little black girls
From different worlds but somehow became a part of the others'

Always laughing at the world for not know how deep the river flows and where the roads connect
Praising the others melanin and defiant hair as more than just dead skin cells
You cheered for me harder than I did myself

I cried when I heard the news that my friend wasn't mine anymore and that those little black girls were growing up and apart. Laughs echoed in my mind and pushed tears out.

Sitting in this room mad as hell.
It's raining outside. I'm jealous.
Why?

I was deprived of my O.
Selfish lover he is.
I was ****** that she gave him a teaser of water and he just ran with it.
All he needed whether I was in tune or not.

I don't know why tonight I thought it'd be different.
Welp.
He invaded my insides as I begged for compassion.
Came as a courtesy as if that's what I wanted.
WHAT ABOUT ME

Always about him
His positions
His requests
His needs

What about me

I should've gotten drunk for this
Depriving me of my O.
I could've stayed at home
Gave myself my O.

I wonder how he'd feel if he woke up just to find me fixing the mess he made.
Is that rude?

Because Maxwell is playing in the background saying
now his part is over
BUT WHAT ABOUT ME

Thundering outside
Then there's me

The hardest part of growing up is the disappointment. The rules of fairness get thrown out the window and it's up to you to pursue your interests. Each person becomes their own main priority. Self preservation. Your heart loses it value to others, your feelings no longer spared. Doing what is right mistaken with what feels right. My problem as of lately has been not doing what has felt right, but what's best for me, finding who's best for me.

Now, don't mistake me. He was a dream. My eyes glittered when I smiled. The first tender touch that scared me, but I was too proud to flinch. Laughter was endless, love ran lucratively. I guess you could say he was the beginning of my disappointment. No kiss could be as sweet.

The next was the captain of saving. He loved the skin I was in and taught me to do the same. He gave me affection, recognition, and a dilemma of delicacy. So sweet yet so twisted, wicked some may say. The sweet taste of sin. My disappointment grew with the seduction of satan.

Now I transition. The ending of a roller coaster. The disappointment began with the first drunken "I love you" I started to believe it myself. In actuality, I think I was just trying to fill the void that sweet kiss originally gave me. Nothing else could replace it. Not even his return. These short romances burn out quickly, only lasting months at a time, but experiencing the most significant of moments. Together, my loves have caused my heart to wither more and more. But it's those small  moments that make it all worth it. The moments that I knew somewhere in the midst of the mess they learned to love me, even if it wasn't forever. It happened, and in these moments disappointment grew because I knew they'd eventually end.

Every time I come home I feel so much older
Maybe Milwaukee ages us
Makes us anxious stressed
Worries us

Milwaukee shows me my lonely because I'm always left
Home alone with just the dogs and
Even when everyone (the three of us) are all here
We stay away from each other
Silence
When its broken with a strangers laughter its odd
As if they're too loud
"I haven't seen your mom in forever"
"It's so quiet"
"Where is everyone?"

She's either upstairs or gone
Yeah just me and the pups really
They leave, never telling me where they're going

It's funny when we're young our families are so quick to establish good memories of family love and tradition within us, building a positive foundation
But these days each holiday becomes questionable
It's like the idea of family is dwindling
I panic when I think of who will be at my Thanksgiving dinner one day...

Far from perfect with a past that's not acceptable, nor lovable, but remember you loved me for a reason. We could make the world jealous if you don't lose faith in me. Faithful is all you asked and all I ask is for a chance to be.

All the wrong people invade my dreams.
I wonder why I let them crawl so deep into my psyche
Its been hours since my eyes closed, and I still see them, vividly.
They speak to me, and even hurt me in my dreams
As I lay in bed silently.
Its an evil power they have, controlling me without being anywhere near me.
Upsetting me without being within earshot.
They've become so good at it
They don't even have to try
My mind won't let them go long after I've dozed off
All the wrong people haunt me in my sleep.

"Maybe we got too deep into this thing we're doing."
Swim out. Stop swimming, stop diving in so deep.
Drag him out, resuscitate him.
Give him a new life where he can relive without me.
Cure him of my smiles, my embraces, the tender touch of my limbs.
Ban him from my pools.
Don't let him in.
"Maybe we got too deep into this thing we're doing."
Maybe you should've learned how to swim.

I left my intended destination
And didn't have anywhere to really be for a few hours
So I drove aimlessly
Parked my car, paid the meter
And walked aimlessly
It's funny the things you notice when your world seems to be ending
Like how busy the east side is no matter the time of day
I wished I lived down here
Because the eery quiet of the north side just reminds me that I'm alone
Even when I'm not
See the east side may be boisterous but
At least it's not hiding anything
That prowler that's hiding in the back alley, he knows his limits, he knows your scream can be heard anywhere
But on the north side people ignore screams because its just so quiet and they rather the screams die off
This morning I could've screamed
I wanted to throw up, just die off
In that 10 minutes I wanted to just end
Then I got in my car and drove to the east side
So much life
When one ends another begins

I don't have a metaphoric way of expressing how I feel tonight. So I won't try.

I won't try to describe a love I'll never know, nor maximize the mere encounters I mistaked it as.

It's quite ridiculous now that I think about it. All these writings about these people that don't consider themselves lucky to have had me. I won't try to prove to them that I'm worth the appreciation. I'll just sit here thinking of Augustus Waters.

*I love her. I am so lucky to love her.

It hurts more that in the time I am away, you question if I am worth it.

I am not enough. This heart is not enough. We are not enough. What I give you is not enough.

This heart that stayed up until the sun rose and watched you sleep is not enough.
These hands that have written you love letters almost everyday for four months is not enough.
These arms that embrace you, this mouth that tastes you, these eyes that search for you, these palms that feel you, these smiles I bear you, this time I spend with you.
Is
Not
Enough.

I use to question why I was so lucky to find such a true find worth loving. Someone worth losing for a short time just to find again. Now I question how someone can easily just rip a band-aid from a wound that was nearly closed, stitches nearly cinched.

What do I matter when everything I love I lose.
Staring at me.
No situation that can be taken lightly.
Teary-eyed as I walk away.
I will never let you see me cry.

You are not enough.

I had to come clean with myself last night.
I was reciting the truth I always knew, that I always told, but this time to someone that would tell me the bitter truth. The kind I never would come to terms with.

So I admitted to my friend why all my past loves went wrong and how I was stuck on one. I revealed how i was still pursuing the impossible, making a fool out of myself, but still trying...just pushing aside that maybe somewhere in Wisconsin I'm being laughed at.

He asked me why, why am I so stuck? What's so great about this *****? And I got quiet as I slumped in his dorm with my hands in my pockets, chin in my chest. I don't know. You have to know. Well it was kind of the first time I truly didn't know. I guess after months of defending why you're doing something you lose sight of why you're doing it. I could only say "I hate to lose."

Yeah I added some ******* like "he was my friend. He was my first normal guy." But of course he had to add "so that's all you want is normal? Not great?" I thought about my pride. I thought about my past. I thought about my future. I thought about the paths that led me here.

I had a breakthrough. Now I can start moving towards the light.

Evil thoughts come a little too easy, I speak them unto you as venomous bullets eager to break your spirit. But my thoughts are never really my own, but my fear of what another may speak into you. So I warn you, I prepare you for the pain that may sure enough come. Because people like you don't come around too often. I am your toughest critic, your worst enemy, I am the army. I am the worst case scenario, the eyes of society.

You can love with eyes open
Not fearing the possibility that
somewhere
someone
is laughing at what they call stupidity
but you know it as love

No one to throw dirt on his name
Kicking it in your face
Because they don't know enough to try to interfere
Oh don't dare interfere

People are nosey
Ooooh and when they know of someones past
they run
with it

See but this time around I don't have to keep my eyes closed
to avoid seeing something that may trigger doubt
that may break this before it starts

eyes just as open as my mind
eyes just as open as my heart

He thought I wrote of fairy tales.
Tales of temptation that would lead to his downfall.
If only he saw that the tales were true and I
Never promised perfect
I never wrote of it either.
I wrote of my passion, and of my pain
Just showing how I felt
I never expected him to feel some type of way
He flirted with my fairy tale
But he was timid with the temptation
He feared the mess our now could make
How it could change, interfere, and influence his forever
Although he triggered it all
He pulled me in for the first kiss
He was his own downfall

I was 12 again.
Helpless, angry and just wanted the yelling to end.
I couldn't sleep through it and knew each long pause would end with longer explosions of objects being thrown curses being yelled and bodies hitting the floor. Each time I'm caught in the middle trying to play peacemaker, but this time there was no peace. She wasn't my family tonight.
I looked at her, really looked at her and smelled her really smelled her, and she was a different person. Like one of those people on the street that you wonder how they ended up there. Well this was how she would end up there. I couldn't find herself in her eyes, but this helpless self loathing creature that took host in her body 2 years ago when life was supposed to really begin.
Why do we always end up here?
On the floor wrestling screaming in a frenzy, cursing like sailors each of our eyes gleaming red with blind rage.
I was 12 again, protecting my mother.
I fought a part of me to protect a part of me.

Someone that makes my heart flutter and my knees weaken. He gives me a feeling that makes my eyes soften while still staring intensely. Daydreaming about his smile as he speaks words unknown. Yeah, that's what I want. When he touches me nonchalantly for the first time, I want my heart to stop and stare at his hand just to believe its happening. Make him want me then now and forever, before he knows what's hidden. I want the fantasy that is the falling.

No matter who comes and goes
There'll still be room left
He'll make the room
When the space gets too
Tight
Because it's been vacant for a while
Soon it'll be like he never left as he gets comfortable
Refamiliarizing himself with my room
Moving furniture around
Feng shui as our hips sway

It's been few months but there's always room left
There's always room no matter how long he's been gone
So I always save room because he always treats these thighs like his home.

What are our lives when we leave this place?
Painting pictures to customers
Selling an idea that we have it all together
I wonder what are our lives when we leave this place?
Because we're always here and
When we're not, we complain
It can't be for the money at this point
We revolve around this place
I used to dread heading there but
Now I always say
"I have nothing else better to do"
At least for so many hours I'm wanted somewhere

Then I return home
Feet hurting
If only Blasian was here to rub them
Just wanting to lay
We could play 2K, I almost beat him ya know
Falling asleep in someone's arms besides my own
Wish you could stay longer

Then the eery silence reminds me
I haven't heard from him in 2 days
Haven't heard from my back up in 4
I'm double lonely
Could you work a 2-close instead of 12-5
Certainly.
I'm not wanted any place but here.

Maybe deep down she'll always be that girl that wants what she can't fully have.

Loving people that'll never know how to love her, really love her.

And a few times she'll realize her worth but then she gets consumed in this futuristic land of fomo.

fear of missing out

That wide range between reality and what if.

Reality existing in hands other than her own.

What if being behind those closed doors that make reality worthwhile.

Fearful of abandoning reality because there's that small chance that what if comes through.

Fear of missing out.
On you.

I kissed his forehead.
I never thought it'd be the last kiss we'd share, but it was.
As I sat in his lap admiring his face
trying to feel what made it so perfect to me,
I saw my love.
How I could sit in a freezing car, see our breaths, but feel so warm?because I was in his arms.
My hair in my face as I sung out a love song, and he smiled.
I was in love, and he smiled because he knew.
Both our eyes gave secret messages, both so intrigued with each others face noticing things we'd never noticed.
"I think you're beautiful," I said.
Because I did.
I kissed his forehead repeatedly.
So sweet was that moment, almost as beautiful as he.

running on my mind*
Flowing through the river of day old conversations that still make me laugh like the moment the words left the lip of your mouth

***** with brownness that I can't wash away.
Born into a filth that made me unhygienic before my feet could touch the ground
Before my hands could grasp objects other than my mothers hand or chest or face
Guilty before the gavel was struck
Before the cell was locked
Before the siren rang off
Guilty of brownness that is not innocent until proven guilty
Rather brown until proven worthy
Brown until the grave
assigned to us before we have a chance to see the world and become who we're suppose to be
Graves are becoming just as crowded as those ships they brought us here in
Stuffed and cramped like the cells they keep us in
Piling bodies on bodies while blood cells fill the avenues we march in
Graves over crowded
Hearts over hurt
Innocent with a guilt I can't wash away.
Our mothers can't hold us now.

For a month a part of me was missing.
At least I thought.
So when I found it again, I was overjoyed.
Life made sense again because a void was filled.
But everything that glitters isn't gold.

You can't miss a part of you that was never there.
There's not a word for it either.
I tried to conquer the lexiconical gap.
So I watched as the petals grew crisp
And his words lost tenderness.
I relived the feelings of before that were  the reason I left.
I questioned why I ever came back.

I watched myself and my movements.
Wondering why I did everything with him in mind.
Just wanting to be seen as imperfectly perfect,
Be any and everything.
To others I was everything and more,
To myself I tried to be more, to be that part he never could seem to find in me.
But yet again the lexiconical gap stopped.
I couldn't miss the part of me I never had
Especially because I never knew what it was.

Summer came and went.
Our summer was the sweetest.
I miss what I actually did have then.
Those constant conversations, that eagerness and anxiety we'd get when too many hours passed without seeing or hearing from each other.
We did have that.
Now summer comes again and I'm faced with the
everlasting gaps that are me waiting to hear from you.
That denial I have when I finally do.

A gap, the lexiconical gap that may never be filled.
Not even Lexi can fill it, not even Lexi can keep you.

He's so tall that I have to decide where my hands are gonna sit when we stand
Do I  hold his waist or stretch toput them around his neck?
And when we kiss I have to stand on my toes so long that my calves hate me for it.
I feel so small.
He's my gentle giant, like my teddy bear after an overdose on steroids.
Strong but sweet and his skin oh so soft.

Always disappearing
"Don't go ghost on me "

Sometimes mid-day just to not return until morning acting as if the 15 hours were no big deal and need not be explained
I hate when he does that ****
Sleeping on me
As in not realizing who he's disappearing from

Not knowing in 15 hours I've put on my low cut blouse and my thigh hugging jeans, curled my hair, made my eyes pop with eyeshadow and lips pout with gloss.
Just to show I've still got it
He doesn't know I took shots of brown now I can't stop dancing
And the guy before him won't stop watching
Multiple guys with their "excuse me" as they accidentally grab my *** as they walk past"imma let my hands do the talkin"
Or the one that tried to give me a lap dance...

He doesn't know my girl and I were the finest in the room "all the 5s need to listen when a 10 is talkin"
And we were constantly reminded
That the guy before him tried touching every part of me "I miss feeling on ya"
Even wanted me to leave with him

So I stopped checking my phone
"Don't go ghost on me , imma go thrilla on ya"

That glimmer of sunshine when I force rage upon myself. I don't think you know that you saved me and this wrecked heart of mine. Opening me up more as your calm meets my storm. I'll tell them of a love song that I thought could never be wrote. I'll sing it while my storm rages, I'll hum it while we live in a calm. You are that glimmer of sunshine that opens my heart up to not being alone.

It felt good just to be held, to feel wanted.
I hadn't felt that way in so long.
Someone just holding my hand
Without me asking
A touch that needn't go any further because it was meant for its sweetness
It felt good to be the reason he was ignoring his texts, the girl he wasn't afraid to ***** and hold in front of his friends or tell them he would marry me
His hands said everything through my clothes
It felt good to keep my clothes on for a change and still be turned on
He made me feel good, I felt wanted again

Finally doing things right.
The way you're not ashamed or scared to tell your mama about come Sunday morning.
Because you're waiting
Because he has goals and is committed to
Chemistry
So I know it's okay.
No hiding.
Because I'm a mid west rider
And he's an east coast soldier.
So we teach other new words
Expose each other to different worlds
Maybe we'll work.
We're different, we're good
We're new.
Good boys can be fun, if you're good.

Have you ever heard my grandmother laugh?
It's like smelling breakfast waiting for you on a Sunday morning, the sound of coffee pouring as the steam wafts above it.
Watch her face change from serene to that of a newborn baring it's first smile.
Oh when she laughs, I can only laugh harder. She's contagious.
A sound that solidifies that you're finally home.
Just like when grandpa comes bearing those oatmeal cookies he's so proud of.
A sound that reminds you who you do it for.
A sound that encourages you to just keep going.

Healed
The sun looks brighter
With laughter that pours out like honeyed pearls.
With a strut so fierce it almost appears animalistic.
I look without tears
Dream without fears
With a mind and eyes that are healed.
I thank those that saw me through hardships.
I thank those that ignored my pleas of desperation.
I made it through the Himalayas of my lonesome.
I conquered the wilder beast they called Heartbreak.
I sure did.
I beat it ‘til it bled tears no longer.
I stomped the cracks of his heart with a steel heel.
Joyous of this victory,
I stood facing the horizon, vivacious,
Rejoicing of new beginnings and
Potential happily ever after 
My halo gleams in the sunlight.
My back sprouts wings that show
Growth within myself
With a sparkle in my eye,
I rejoice that I am healed.
The war between myself and heartbreak has ended.

My existence touched someone.
For a moment I've mattered, been the reason for a smile.
Years of imperfection perfectly spent.
18.

there is nothing more rewarding than when a person is genuinely happy to see you.

unafraid to release the anxiety that was the waiting for their return.

hug me.

happy fall.

I always see these days coming.
Slowly rumbling…
It's like walking on eggshells
Never knowing what exactly is gonna be the catalyst
So I wait.

I was painting my names (black ironically)
When my mom came back from getting the car washed
Another list of things that have went wrong with the car since
the new owner came into ownership
Rear damage, filthy, missing hub cap

It set her off

Then it turned into an explosion when my sister walked in
"14 year old boy"
"crackhead"
"mentally insane"

It hurts just because I've said all these things just last night
My mom continued her rant, she used to stop to spare my feelings
But this time she saw my head nod in agreement
I would've snapped along too
We were exhausted
Like just talking at a wall that didn't see the strain she was putting on this household
It used to be Cartel, then he left for 12 years and thats when things started to take the turn
Maybe she just felt like there was room for a new family **** up
But little did she know she was the last one left
everyone else had grown up.

How do I stop these headaches...
The pounding in the center as if my brain is being shaken out of place.
The irritation that makes me pray to keep my blood pressure down because hypertension runs in my genetics.

Constantly reacting, each error becomes a catalyst to a headache that makes me clench my teeth, claw my seat, wrinkle my brows. Instantaneously this frustration reoccurs.

My mother and I alternate the burden. These headaches run through both our veins. Genetically annoyed. Venting to each other of how we don't think our bodies can handle anymore. Our bodies dying as our frustration lives happily and stress free. Just piling her burdens on us. Taking advantage of our need to get things done, advantage of our go getter mentalities.

Aspirin after aspirin. They disappear so fast these days.

I fell in love with him the way you fall asleep: slowly at first, then all at once.*

He is 6 hour skype calls until the sun comes up, laughing at how my upper lip looks like a mustache and his nose looks like the bell on the Taco Bell logo.

He is the lover of black women that says my poems are beautiful and my tans are healthy.

He is a conversation that never ends but never strays to flirtation nor awkwardness. A listener of my stories and the laughter that gives them meaning.

He is comfort in a place that is unknown. He is the unexpected friend that feels so close to something I've always known.

Oh how he is.

There he was, manipulating everything to be his way. We'd exist only under his rules, his conditions. Almost like a prenuptial agreement, but there was no monetary value that could replace what I'd learned or felt in the past year. He used to be everything without trying, and I could only want everything all the time.

There I was falling in love every minute. It's odd that a person can fall without ever looking back up to see what she's missing out on. But I was never worried because my heart would remind me that this was the feeling others looked for.

There we were on our diverging paths where my sun and your moon met on the rarest occasion. We abandoned the norms and created our own path, but eventually you started back on your own as I kept the faith and continued on ours.

Here I am, still in denial and refusing to abandon our path. Hoping maybe you'll take a detour back to where you left me. Here I am still falling in love every minute.

Hero

Who's gonna save me when I finish saving the world? They must forget im just a 17 year old girl, with strong tolerance, but is broken inside. A whole world to protect, but no one to listen to my fears at night. I can try to be the superwoman and put all of me on the line. But I'm scared of knowing when I need someone everyone runs and hides. Scared to face my demons because they have no idea of my struggles. A hug is all I need, just someone to pull me out of this big huddle with all these people tearing me apart limb by limb. Daddy's little girl, but I never even met a true man. A man to protect me, to love me, to hold me when I cry. I inherited all my moms burdens so my backs broken no one to carry this weight of this unbearable pain single black women face everyday.

He's beautiful.
I watched him look out the window for me
Not knowing I was right behind him
I was nervous to be right beside him
But he wanted me there
Maybe forever
He scooped me from the ground for no reason
Besides that he missed me
And every time I laughed to replace my blushing
My heart would melt just because of how cute his baby face was when he'd poke those succulent lips out and drop his head into my chest and put his arms around me just to say
He missed me even if it was only 6 days

I watched him reject any and all plans with his friends as they watched him cuddle me
And I could only laugh because for the first time I was the reason someone wasn't going anywhere
For the first time I could confidently say
He's not going anywhere
He's fine right here with me

Hours passed and with each minute my attraction grew because he respected my prescience
Ignoring all those calls, neglecting literally hundreds of texts
I wanted him because he snored on my chest with his arm around my stomach so I couldn't move
While I felt all the moves with his twitches that nightmares bring
I wanted him because when his friend says "she's about to leave" he responded "she ain't going no where"
And I wasn't, but I did want to feel him, show him how much I appreciated the feeling of being wanted

I got so comfortable I fell asleep, and I awoke to the sight of his beauty as he stepped out the shower and it was the best way to wake up
Built like a statue I said
So finely shaped in all departments
So strong that he controlled my movements
A masterpiece, he's beautiful.

The greatest worth that goes unnoticed.
Existing independently waiting to be found.
A few have been close, lingered amongst the vicinity.
Never knowing what they were missing out on, never knowing a treasure needed them as much as they needed it.
Shamefully stashed away, someone promised to come back for it; Calling dibs on diamonds.
Abandoned. No X to mark the spot.
Worth a lifetime of romance and riches, but no one will ever know what's beneath the surface.

She's waiting to be found.

They were trying to rid the world of us that day.
Twenty four hours to take us captive long enough to make us hate ourselves.
It was confusing at first simply because it was unheard of in 2014, but this day was an exception.
"What'd we do wrong?" My sister and I exclaimed as the officer lunged at us weapons in hand.
He couldn't answer besides continuing to ensure us that we were a problem just being ourselves.
We ran, made them trip over themselves as we took shelter in a basement of others just like us in hiding.
They didn't know either. Our mothers had warned us to stay put, first time they forced us not to come home just because the risk was too high. Twenty four hours to wipe us out.
I dreamt last night of a black women holocaust.

It was just a dream, but I awoke wondering why exactly I would dream of such a catastrophe. Maybe I have a subconscious fear of a hate for not only by race but my *** being institutionalized within my society. I skimmed through my brain searching for events that may have triggered so many tragedies:

My voice is rarely heard.
Swallowed deep into a throat of men who close their ears to avoid
the risk of damaging their eardrums with my pitchiness.
Forever straining to shout a little louder, speak a little deeper, so maybe my message is heard by my counterpart the first time.

Constantly I am undermined.
"it's fine" my male counterpart states to a student that has broken the rules.
He encourages the disrespect of his female counterparts and students simply by being more of a friend than an authoritative figure. He knows his privilege and chooses to sleep on it.

I'm tossed to the side. In a room full of people, I am drowning in myself. Isolated simply because I get frustrated with trying to catch the attention of someone that loves the spotlight. Feeding into his need to constantly be seen, by seeing him it causes him to do more to be seen. He doesn't realize I prefer smaller conversations, inside jokes, lower tones. Those moments when you can hear someone smile and eye contact is unavoidable.

I dreamt of a black women holocaust because I was feeling powerless.
As if my role in the work was losing value. My presence fading away to the point where i physically feel small. Reminiscent of my 12 year old self that didn't know how to speak up, nor how to be strong. My 12 year old self that didn't know it was okay to be prideful of my black feminisms, nor that I can be content in my lonely. All alone in rooms full of people.
But in my dream the goal was to rid me from these rooms, rid these people of me.

Maybe my dream was more than a dream.

She had eyes like a horse.
Big eyeballs, but lids that couldn't contain them.
Her eyes were all seeing, always wanted to burst out of the small slits.
Almond shaped, her family teased them saying she was Asian.
Such big eyes, but such thin slits.
As if there was something behind them that needed to be held back.
Almost as if God created her knowing she would need less space for tears to run down.
Those eyes trained her over the years to let the pipes of her mind well.
To fill until it was utterly impossible to keep the water detained.
Those slits were more like levees right before Katrina came.
Strong until a stronger force reckons with it.
They held it all in for her.
Slits that thought they were saving her from her own emotions.
Levees that were suppose to stop the water, Levees that save the public
However, they were drowning her.
An accumulation of emotions that only she had to face.
Alone, in her own ocean.
Oh, those small slits and her horse eyes.

Hug a black boy while you still can.

Before he's ripped from your arms,
Torn from your womb
Thrown into a cell
Beaten in an alley
Hung from a tree
Shot down in the street

Hold him and pray for his safety
Pray for his return from the gas station
From school
From work
From life

I held a two year old and as he tried to squirm away I thought of how much love I had for someone in such short time
How this body holds so much value to me and so many others
He matters, he's only two but he matters just as much as any other human being.
His black skin beams along with his smile and I couldn't imagine life without this black boy.

So why can't our government see that?
Why can't they look at our black boys and love them unconditionally?
Protect them unconditionally?

Our black boys matter.
Hug them while you still can.

You can't just jump into other equations expecting the most. Now I can't make the most of this because it wasn't expected. Women nag, yes. But beyond the nagging isn't nagging. It's love. It's unappreciated love. Nagging being the misconstrued cries for love, honesty, affection. So to be told I've changed hurts because I wasn't in love then. I couldn't nag because I didn't care.

When I have children, I'll tell them of the day I lost hope.
It was the day after my 20th birthday, snow filled the ground
as sadness filled our hearts
resentment contained our minds
anger raged in our throats

I'll speak of a name they probably would never know
because the history books will try to erase him
I'll resurrect his memory to remind my children what kind of world we live in.

I'll look in their brown eyes trying to explain that white criminals are those that pledge to protect us, better our lives,
while black criminals are monolithic, black people, blacks that lie dead in the street.

I'll warn them that guilt will forever be perpetuated on them because of their skin.
As murderers walk free, not guilty of a single ******* thing.

Not guilty of killing, letting his body wither for the public to see.
black bodies laying in the street
similar to those black bodies that once swung in the trees

blood on the pavement
blood on the leaves
the blood of our seeds

I'll remember this day
hearts breaking