i wish you could've seen me today.

i sat out in front of the library thumbing through old issues of food and wine

played miles hodges and zora howard in my ear

picked at leaves

and let the sprinkle of rain and tugging wind caress me

i stupidly imagined it was you gently patting my head instead.

my knees would attempt to give out in my walk around campus whenever your smile appeared in my thoughts

a grin widening from cheek to cheek

it creases your eyes and makes you look wise

older, i think.

also,

yesterday i said i wouldn't write any more love poems

and by God, i meant to have meant it

but what's a girl to do when you have a smile like that!

for now i read bits of my aldanov, cram accounting, shuffle from bed to the library, tutor, pray, and fast like a good girl.

no music, no friends, no sugar, no oversharing, and **** sure no boys.

i've been trying so long now to only care about the deen.

cocoon in the Qur'an, never miss or delay a prayer, never miss an opportunity to fast or do remembrance. and most of all don't desire!! especially something as silly as a boy from a different world, completely unmoved or disturbed at best by crazy ole ugly little me. i seriously want to just disintegrate into nothing. be nothing. do nothing but pray and read.

but every browning page reminds me of your skin. and the rain, your smile. i'm sorry. sorry that i'm here where you are. sorry that i'm so, so obviously enamored with you. sorry, that i can't hide it. sorry that i can't stop it. sorry that i can't do better. i'm sorry.

from [redacted]. to [redacted]. to [redacted].

1.
first impressions have always failed us.
i'm sorry.
sweet and shy quickly burned into a numb saccharine.
i apologize for the unpleasantries.
for i know that i may appear gentle but i do bite
and i merely wanted to show you my teeth.

2.
you're beautiful.
i could never tell you so up close
but since we've met, i've counted every lash on your lower lid and chased strays across your cheeks behind my eyes every night before i sleep.

3.
i loved you a stomach's full.
when i got home i rewinded your every word slowly like a vhs tape
dissected and digested each sound steadily
hid every syllable under my tongue to feast upon later
and let the fricatives kiss the front of my teeth.
i let the rolling, darkness of your timbre shiver down my spine and up again.
baby boy, your accent is guttural
yet your tongue never clips.
you give it to me straight,
sweet legato flowing from your lips.
your words are movements
and our conversations symphonic
it hurts most of all that to have earned your silence

4.
would you mind if we just talked some things out?
if you forgot every time i disappointed you
and viewed me as a woman
again.
i don't ask that you forgive me,
but know that i'm sorry.

5.
you made me angry.
a hell of a lot.
teeth shattering
lung seizing
6/8 time signature heart beating
seeing and tasting copper
dog mad
******
and all for reasons i can't admit.

6.
i've loved you a night's full
past the brim of isha
to the lips of salatul duha.
i prayed istikhara in the last third of the night
when God descended to the stars
as if to proclaim my love to Him and the billions of celestial witnesses

7.
i greedily want it all
all of you
to taste every smile
true or for show
to wipe away your tears
and lay your head on my chest
to coax out the little boy inside you're afraid to share with everyone else.
to have your trust and make you feel like a man all the same.
can i be that for you?

a room with a view
a frosted window iced shut
a portal to you
gazing out is like looking through a viewfinder
you breeze by quickly as you normally do.
gaze downwards, pointed at the earth.
i choose these moments to stare
get my fill
something to think about as i stare up at my ceiling tonight
or out in the rain when every falling, flitting leaf reminds me of the sweet boy with cedar eyes

you completed me.
wings fragmenting through breeze,
your nafs' memories
locate where my honey seeps.
tarry and bathe
in this stream.
soak me in
golden hue
browning
blushing
blossoming
like honeysuckle do.
reap me
like i'm new.
sow depth
so fresh, so green brown earth blue.
and our fruit will bare true,
continual and carnate cycles,
like nature do.
and what am i
but the river's image
of you?

when i think of you
i think of
the fragrancía of fresh pan dulce
and spice
and warmth
and verde
and barefoot dancing.
concrete and tamales.
mississippi blues
and playing in the delta.
joy.
i picture your blooming smile
spreading across your face
like marigolds and magnolias.
you are a pleasant breeze.
as delightful and curt as spring.
I'll close my eyes,
bathe in the balmy sun,
let the gentle wind embrace me,
curl my toes in the grass,
outstretch my arms
and enjoy you as you pass.

vexed.
i moan and wallow
in the bitterness of my nafs
the part of me that wants you more than my next breath.
thinking
of what i'd do to you
or her.
punish you.
mindfuck you like you manipulated me.
make you rue my tears and insanity.
then i settle.
back into sadness- sober reality.
that you'll never be mine
and you deserve each other.
congrats.

i built a wishing well
from here to there
as long as the coptic summer
as wide as the cocked jaws of a gator
and as deep as the mississippi.
i built a cornerstone
to clutch.
i lay an anchor cemented so deep
hoping that you could never leave me.
but love is such a fickle frailty
that i never wondered if you wanted my love before i sowed it.
came the tide and came the solstice and the tide again, i was in wait for a harvest that would never come.
i built a bridge.
crossed it so very often hoping for something at the rickety end.
i lost myself for you.
a fool yet again.
and again.
and again.

i live for God
but spend my next breaths hopeful of your wake.
i'm ashamed to admit
you're ingrained in my nafs and on my mind,
boy.
you're desire woven tight in my abdomen.
your image is laced in my bones.
i dream of you even when my eyes are open.
i taste you with every morsel i eat.
i feel you in every tender caress i share with myself and your memory.
what can i do when i love you so
yet have accepted you'll never be mine?
i feel insane
when something so sweet
is within my reach
yet i can't reach out and grab it.
i feel dejected and punished
to see you love another woman.
and forever unfulfilled when i try to love another man.

i saw the gap again today.
half of me was begging to stay.
i took care not to enter.
if i did i may have disappeared.

another man is going to have my body.
devour my flesh and break my bones.
and it aches.
my vow to celibacy and solitude is only a word away.

tell me you don't want to see me with someone else.
that only you deserve my time and space.
i'm already committed, i just await your grace.

martyr me with your tongue.
satiate me and subdue my conscience in a way only you know how.

i feel as though i belong to you.
though not you to me

honey is a runner.
he stares at the tangling dance of his fingers and laces
when he ties his shoes.
left,
then right.
his eyebrows tugged precariously in concentration.
he doesn't realize how he clenches his teeth until he's bitten his tongue or his jaw cramps.
i'm here to remind him.
his long legs take a stride for my single steps
i can only chase after the insignia on his windbreaker as he paces his run.
eventually he stops
and turns
and waits-
a smile present .
as if the sight of my stubby little legs pumping forward is entertaining.
after a goal is exceeded, we circle back to my humble abode.
our sneakers sit next to each other on my little foyer's rack.
i shower then we split a plate of chaffles and a *** of chai.
honey places me on his chest and reads something about a revolution
somewhere
somewhere cold and European
far from the warm comfort of my sleeper sofa and messy bookshelves.
what could be more revolutionary than this?
i inhale the sweet taste of his aroma and quietly revel
soak in amazement of my fortune.

I don't give a ****
About financial statements
How about we just...

matteus is sickly sweet.
residue on my thighs
and an ache in my teeth.
he is incessant on my mind
and absent from my bed.
part of me wishes him gone
part of me wishes to see him again.

trepidation peaks.
this might be the truman show.
a full crowd watches.

each inhale becomes
more and more painful to pass
my lungs seize in shame

your curious gaze,
teasing smile, laughter. languid
like straight tequila.

ever flowing and
missing the rim of my cup
an intentful flow.

alikened to shame and
reddened on my dark cheeks like
ripened tomatoes.

you are a pleasant
sharp tasting fruit. bitter yet
ready to be plucked.

vineless. ever free.
forbidden. incandescent
and reflective shine.

matteus is dead
a flower lays next to his head
as crimson as his lips
paper-thin and spreading rigidly.
his smile is small and ungiving as he would will it
so short-lived in my favor
so indifferent to my sentiments.
i am a shadow dancing on his gravestone
clutching needless memories as if they were a cornerstone.
i used to want him as mine.
crave what could never be
stoking and kindling
what never ignited.
matteus came and went.
matteus was never here.
matteus is gone for good,
and with him my senses.

solange say self care be a safe space.
a place to love.
to not deal.
months into therapy and i have not begun to heal.
the doctor say i got PTSD.
recommends skills for coping that i done heard before like
post it's of encouragement decorating my vanity
traumatic memories written pretty and rhythmic in a journal
stress wrapped beneath my prayer dress as i kneel in sujood
disorder made neat with Google calendar routines
or
something like that.
solange say self care be your house.
the comfort of hiding.
the keeping your mental safe.
see
i ain't slept in days.
because at some point the journey to bed transcended a frame of time.
became star gazing up at the texture of my ceiling.
became laps around the park at 3 am
became me welcoming lovers into my space to ferry me to my dreams.
solange say self care be your partner.
be eclipsing in the warmth of your love.
staying protected inside of complacency.
i welcomed him. them. the toxicity
my flesh still crawls at the shadow sensation of arms encasing my frame
coiling around me like snakes.
i have yet to understand love but i have grown accustomed to the volition of being ******.
or so i tell myself.
solange say self care be a mission.
a journey in itself.
to find rest in oneself.
i may not know nothing about no logical course of action or emotion
but some nights i find myself blazing down highland as if it was aṣ-Ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm
and i get so frightened to my core of the honking horns and leering strangemen that i **** near prostrate myself on the street and make dua for protection and guidance.
say self care-
self care is...
self care be-
self care be tidying the mess that is i.
braiding my hair just for a ***** to pull on it.
wearing a pretty dress just for somebody to make me feel ***** in it.
coloring just to break the crayons in stupor.
making tea just for it to line my throat as bile.
laying down to sleep just to be awake for hours.
self care be a fight.
be a rush of anxiety imposing upon my nights
self care be a dream
a sweaty nightmare of ****** pressed against my back and weight dropping upon my shoulders.
self care be a struggle
self care be a disorder
self care be disorder
self care be me smiling in the mirror and saying mashallah i'm here ain't it?
it's ok to take this **** day by day.

in orange mound we sit on porches
the thin plastic legs of the chairs scrape the concrete
Spades
Dominoes
Neckbones
Chitlins
The sidewalk be scorching hot
And the mosquitoes be bothersome
We play loud blues
Drink Bud
Cuss
The oven and AC unit be hard at work
At constant war with each other
Like us over a game of 21.
I laugh and smile all too proudly
Cause yes I'm countrified
And yes I'm ghetto.
I'm the loudest and blackest there is.
You hear me before you see me
My voice enters the room before I
My body enters the room before I
And I likes it that way
Wouldn't do a thing to change it neither

im itchy as ****
memphis rained on my braidout
and soaked my chancletas

maybe gods upset
or im a bad volunteer

i swear i'll stop the i, i, i and me, me, me
i know it's like a broken record
flat notes and crooked chords
a walk of shame on my keyboard
i must know that the world does not revolve around mj
even when it closes in on me
kisses fresh trauma and scars so deep
nursing wounds that refuse to heal
i want to self pity
i want the validation
this is me opening my legs to the world
accepting that things will never go my way

i am the blues
the blues is truth
and i refuse
to let you steal
my truth before it reaches my tongue
my blues before i can sing it

i'll admit i don't sleep

there isn't room for it anymore

and i don't pray

for now i'll watch out for spiders

i must have spiders eating at my brain or some ****
because at this point even english dont make sense
all i know is that feeling of paranoia
that shameful fear of the dark
and what awaits inside it

I think of your hands
Dimpled knuckles
Dotted like staccato

I think of your smile
Teeth pearly
Waxen like ivory

I paint you in your glory
your brows furrowed together in annoyance
your surly gaze- ever mischievous and glassy
your eyes upturned like crescent moons

you are lunar, sweetheart.

untitled, i can
never find my ******* words
the void air thickens

I can't sleep
I blame it on the spiders
That wind thin intricate
Webs of thoughts
Through my head

you feed me by hand
I don't care how little
or how much
because this is the most delicious thing i've had in a long while.
you are at fault for
the overflow of trepidation collecting across my tongue that accuses me
the mess i've made of my head assuming.
I have equal fault and take the guilt as it comes
like when you benefit me with conversation
shower just enough discipline and attention
to guide me slowly but surely
steady
or when i procure my own fantasia
blissed in my own imagination
anticipation
curiosity
of what satisfies your appetite.

I am excessive
Like the incessant honk of the train blazing down highland
Like the rain when I've conveniently left my umbrella home.

I do not know how to form a balance
Organize chaos
Tidy the mess that is I

I gorge and tarry

i call kecia and she wants to know what's up
but i cannot fit my truth around a mouthful of tooth decay and nicotine.
i want to tell her that **** ain't as sweet as this swisher smoke
that some of this **** is too hard to swallow
so i thought i'd choke
"is that all?" she asks
and no it's not but what the **** else can i say

love is not blind
it is selfish
it boasts
it cannot make up its mind
or admit to its faults
this is me loving me the only way i know how

i wanna ask you
"what about that *****, Ken
you still **** with him?"

i'm so curious
yet so aware of my place-
I'm not even ranked

off on a tangent
my thoughts in transient
racing and rushing

i'll meet you on my own time
when i'm ready
although i may not know if that time comes

Bursts of thoughts
Resting
Waxing
Waning
Hiding
Anxious to be materialized
Never seeing the light of day

Its times like this I be missing ne
Or his presence
The convenience
Instant gratification
Soul bareing
And that was all.

it took four-twenty five and hours of unrest to write this poem
this is not an ode or a shout-out
yet merely a confession
a recollection
of nights spent staring up at the dull off-white sky of my ceiling as if I was bathing in moonlight or basking in sun gleam
I pop two bennys
four
six
As many as it takes until
I succumb
Laying lull and sedated
Captive to nothing but my unconscious

I would quote song lyrics or recite poetry but
This is not that kind of affair
More of a fantasy in my head
That spawns instant gratification.
I'm juxtaposed between my thoughts and the reality of the situation.
You
Behind the wheel
I wish you'd speed up so I can be alone and relish this very moment as lustfully as I please within the privacy of my bedsheets
But I'd like for you to slow down and let me enjoy the ride.
The view of your thick thighs
Spread and commanding every inch of space possible
How I wish for you to control me as well
Your smile cocky and your tone overlording
Are you doing this on purpose?
Tugging at my heartstrings and pooling like lava in the pit of my stomach
You're careless
How can you be so reckless?
One of these days I may act upon my hidden intentions
And no guilt will be present
No will
No preservation
No virtue
Just want.
Just pure desperation
To get your hands off the wheel
And onto my body
I'm surely more curved than your Suburban
More pliable and easy to the touch.
You wouldn't know if you didn't reach out and touch me
Take your eyes off the ******* road and meet my gaze
See that I mean no good
I'm a distraction
And have no qualms with making you pull over
To enjoy the ride.

it feels bitter
and distant
to seek something
which i never had

smoke in my eyes
cicadas in the distance
i think may cry tonight.
**** ain't been as sweet as this swisher smoke
or stolen mints at tim's.
i think i may disappear into the foliage and concrete.
i think tomorrow is as bitter as yesterday.

i need a swisher
something nasty and bitter
to replace this taste

when i said i needed time to think
i meant solidarity, swishers, and sleep
******* my line like you care
im starting to resent you for not being what i wanted even if i dont blame you

is it okay to
want so much & work so hard
yet have so little?

i am a haiku
a forced alignment of thoughts
that make zero sense

i'm tied along the
seams of kyoko's bed sheets
laying there, frozen

i can't go away
disintegrate so finely
and settle like dust

thicker than water
how can i begin to wade?
or keep from drowning

become so partial
to living that i become
impartial to death

what little is left
clutch it like a cornerstone
don't let it leave soon

plagued by the dark past
i keep gaslighting myself
ready to forget

im such a big girl
i should be proud of myself
because i dont cry