Mid way up the mountain, I turned around. A solace breezed through the clouds, now older. This sudden amnesia covered in snow. This reoccurring season, was I ever changed. Now grown with age. The jagged edge between my fingers. I grew self conscious. An utter of silence hushed in the wind. I sought rescue without proper justification. The sights from here were breathtaking. Watching breath turn to frost. The cabin seemed so small from here. Elevated peeping down on a snow covered roof. All things considered I sought escape. Confined to a small place with the blaze of an fireplace. Quite funny how somethings change. The sloping feel of emotion. Feet scattering through ice regaining balance. I was ***** before the whole world. Standing there before the mountain let out a hard cough. Was I still the same.
Slipping off the ledge, Holding on while watching a field of snow rush towards me. I suppose the only reasonable thing to do. Is let go.
Building a relationship takes time. A slow becoming of each other's identity. A steady student in a firm desk where attendance is vital and homework isn't necessarily done with pen and paper. To willingly give until nothing is left, to get on each other's nerves and have the courage to look each other in the eye and admit that your wrong, to say I love you deeper. Finding compromise in the smaller things. Discovering new meaning rather than dismissing yourself every chance granted. The building blocks to a firm foundation. To create a support system that relies solely on devotion. The care of another through sickness and in health. To humble yourself in another, to find wisdom in sharing yourself. Falling inside and out of problems without knowing the combination to every lock. Each locker holding something different. The impact found in arms reach of each other. Where communication is vocalized in a different tone. Every moment is precious, allowing yourself to be yourself with another. A student whose back pack otherwise empty, now filled with knowledge. Finally finding to solve for X when different variables are thrown in parenthesis. The Y no longer important, finding a deeper meaning. The things otherwise they never teach you at school. Finding a love that never takes constant glances at the clock
To my surprise I got a call from a friend I haven't heard from in a long time, Ecstatic, I was filled with instant delight. Before I could say another word she told me that she had a gift for me that in the utmost urgency I had to come get it. A few moments later she sent a text message. One filled with the utmost emphasis of now, When I showed up she had a sneaky grin on her face Hands behind her back asking if I was ready. I couldn't help but smile replying of course. Without warning she jumped up wrapping her arms and legs around me, Whispering in my ear that she knows how much that I love hoodies, though it wasn't much, here was one that would never fade or tarnish . Her face becoming an hood Enveloping my face occupying my hands with her back
Hate is such a strong word. Yet you show me plenty of it. You first flash your gun. In compensation to cut wages. Yet you remember me. How you should have listened. A siren of power rung. the hands that flashed adamantly "no, please don't." You ignore my cry. Covering me in the congress of actions seen. I guess bad decisions in part. Act first speak later. My spirit shattered in false hope. I put firm trust in the light that flashed from your badge. Thinking to myself its all a mistake. To think I was half right. It's much easier to edit flim or tape. The disguise worn scene to scene. You were never held accountable for your word or action. In a couple of months everything will be thrown out. A face sagged in misery. Treating me your very worse, Refusing to see that your very belief is the problem. I couldn't say a thing. The claps of your sole echoing against concrete. A new victim found. No matter how fast you run, Your disguise can never hide what you've done. You fled the scene before my body dropped.
She was my bad habit, an addiction that went without measurement. The many times I've felt myself with her. The cold sweats I've felt myself miss her. The times I've felt that I was missing out. I needed her then and there. Constantly searching. I had no shame attempting to purposely overdose. Knowing that she'd always be there. My addiction. Feeding my every desire. Lacing bits of her in everything that I did. My bad habit. There wasn't a sense of pride when it came to her. Giving my last everything. Just to feel close to her
I am completely out of good ideas. This isn't exactly what I'd call good company. Being alone with you. A worthwhile bad memory. To know the future doesn't seem all that bad. Under certain conditions. Preconceived notions of cause and effect. It's unpredictable. Yet predictable to see exactly where we're going. Being in love with you seems like a bad idea. I learned that the hard way. The touch of a hand on the small of your back. Afterwards we could both agree. This was a really bad idea. Picking up where the other left off
In a moment I am high, Head swollen Lost in the clouds
Laughing, talking Far from the fear that exists When you are away. My head inflated by the same breath
in your presence. These feelings dispersed by the taste of your lips. Heaven but a breath away. Lost in the sky with my giant head.
Love.. love... love love love This rush of anticipation,
Not knowing what comes next Floating around with the largest smile. The fear of falling miles away Along with the feeling of being popped
among all things. I've been taken by the whirlwind of your smile.
Below my body dangles, My head perfect in your hands. This simple pleasure visited & Re-visited in the reflection of my eyes to yours. Love.. love... love love love The helium that keeps me afloat. Love.. love... love love love
Your lips pressed to mine. Without this taste of affection I'd surely die. Love.. love... love love love But a breath away
When I feel you breath into me. I am high. I feel like a balloon. Surrendered by belief. This is the highest that I'll ever get. To taste your freedom. To breathe in it. To bask in it. With each breath given, I hold on tighter in fear that at any moment things could change. That any moment may be my last. Your kiss further confirms. This bubble of joy that comes alive every time that you are around. You blew life into me. Teaching me the meaning of change. A change I have yet learn. Things that I have neglected myself. I have lost the feeling of standing on the ground. It is yours and yours alone, this breath I give back to you
She was like a banana. The best part of her was on the inside. The amount of insulin I'd need trying to devour her whole. God knows how much I love the thought of that. The effect she'd have on me. Each time I'd see her I'd unravel her piece by piece until all of her shown like never before. The only problem was I was allergic to bananas. Although her smell was intoxicating. One taste of her and my throat would instantly swell. Though I wouldn't prefer anything artificial. I wanted the real thing. When I revealed all of this to her she just laughed. She laughed her *** off as a matter of fact. Rocking back and forth. Her little brown shoes clicking together. Her yellow skin now a bit red. Her freckles now in full view. When I asked why she laughed she said its quite alright. Most people I've met speak so highly of themselves. Your the first person to admit you correctly know how to open a banana.
Every night her thoughts drifted somewhere new. Boarding a late night flight anywhere she could afford. Living a broad. One foot in a dream, the other in her bed. Lost in the abyss of the clouds. Suffering from a depression only cleared by the thought of clouds. The sin of punctured veins seeking release. A banshee roaming the taste Of sorrow. Freed only by the thought of escape. Any place but there. That feeling of always being trapped, alone. Only at night is she free to roam as she once was. Any place she could afford. Boarding the next flight her soul could provide
I've baptized myself in you, You've not just freed my body but the deepest cry My soul could ever muster. Thus creating an embassy of revolution. In you, this holy sanctuary. I felt the chill of water overlapping my face. Born anew in the spirit. Becoming a total embodiment of "US" Wandering in the current of everlasting bliss. Acquiring a part of you, a part of me. Wisdom of the most high bestowed upon "US" Granting logic outside of ourselves. Understanding that love has a multitude of different level. The inner child now mature in the manifestation of calm. Learning that not every action requires a reaction. But instead Listening to the growth of everlasting stillness. Laying flat in it's natural state. No longer formed in the disturbance of it's ripple. In a true understanding that everything external has depth
Tomorrow I said that I'll soak and bathe in the middle of your heart. That I'll remove clothes from skin. Then run my hands underneath the faucet then take hand to soap. Tomorrow I said that I'll find another book to not read and sit it up on top the shelf. Giving you my undivided. Lying in water surrounded by creme colored porcelain. A wash rag and a bar of soap made of your smile. Tomorrow I said that I'll be more of a talker. Especially in the moments of silence that become instant memories. The silence being but a moment to embrace a time where words do no justice. Long soap foam beard. Soap foam covering each follicle of hair on top of our heads. I know tomorrow I said that I would do all of this and more. But why wait when now is just as good as time as any. Cleansing myself in you
To hold and acknowledge the representation of all things pure. The gift of a black woman. In picture perfect representation. To hold the world in the palm of her hand. Your hand. To birth all things beautiful. You are the beholders of the universe. With the patience and the endurance to witness the woes of stress. To keep it all in stride. You yourself are a living testament. From the **** of resilience comes man. With a duty to provide To worship and protect the gift of our Queens. A crown of wool radiating warmth. The worry of pacing feet, cooled by the lapel of warm embrace. From her mouth comes the food that nourishes the soul. Around her tongue swirls knowledge of the universe. The way her eyes connect with the stars. Interwoven clouds that form the cuff of her crown, your crown. With hair spread beneath her neck. Flawless skin made of silk and honey. With ripples of brown sugar, the moon, stars and cocoa. Beneath her lashes lies the imagery of what she dreams most. Her hands like the *** that brews the stew that warms the soul. So much strength can be found. The way she holds her wrists steady. To tame the cosmos that align against the beads of her bracelet. Her talent , her embrace. The way she gives herself as the wind. Looming a sigh of relief. Through you all life is formed. Without her, Without you, We'd all surely die. Not knowing which way to go, baptized again by the palm of your hand. This is a simple reminder to remind you that nothing could surpass you. Beautiful black woman
And when I dream of you. The pages turn. Highlighting a million and one things. All captivated by the sound we touched with our eyes. Each played in beautiful melody. I'd chase behind you. Playing a symphony each time you'd smile. Between the pause we were soft. Supple. Forgetting which one of us was sleeping. Revealing all of our secrets. You taught me how to sing. Forgetting to move my mouth. Each emotion thrown from my stomach. When I dream of you, I see all the colors. So vividly played in beautiful color
Asking a question does more than fill open space. It expresses curiosity. Devolving into things not easily expressed. Given our availability. It expresses a deeper need for connection. Whether we are open to what we desire most. Closed off to preference. The right time of day or night we can de-clutter. Taking in what we give out. Asking a question isn't something done out of boredom. Or merely because your there. It expresses a thought that requires action. That I've thought of you. That there is a desire laid bare. An anticipation that builds until the next time I am able to hear your voice. For the more serious moments require a deeper tone. An ear that senses deeper need. Responding to this deep need of connection. A need of care. A need of longing. To respond to this vulnerability not out of responsibility. But in the openness of being
I'd like to think of her as a bible, One undeniably within reach. Free to the touch, the embrace of saving myself well, from myself. Hearing myself in a way not thought possible. I Convenient to the word she speaks. The tenderness of realizing that the next moment is not promised. Though I rejoice in taking the next moment as a promise. Knowing that if I shall close my eyes and tomorrow never comes. That I'll be present wherever she is. Understanding that the beauty of her is not easily obtained. The excitement of sitting in silence. Allowing her to probe my mind. To heal the aches not easily curable by anything other. The taste of palm to cover. To be remade by a higher power. The miracle of knowing. The metaphorical essence of innocence
Believe that around every corner lies a blessing in wait. Believe that with each and every waking second that there is something to be uncovered. Believe in your dreams, whether your wide awake or lying there in deep sleep. Trust that there is nothing that can hold you back. No matter what spirit, what circumstance that arises. Your spirit vibrates at a high frequency. With the know how and ability to overcome adversity. Though patience is labeled a virtue and the label reads as is. It's one of the greatest gifts that goes misunderstood along with time. If read long enough perception changes. The things that we may have overlooked, or come to us at a random moment that brings clarity to things otherwise we take for granted. Sometimes it takes going on a long walk or just taking a moment to yourself. Believe that the answer to everything you seek lies deep inside of you. For peace of mind is Divine, and sometimes hard to obtain. The things that constantly add up, watching our hands overfill without knowing what to do with the pieces thats already been given to us. Whether it's a job, the people we face on a day to day basis or life in general. It is at these very moments that we feel our way through, rather than rely on thought alone. The world is built on a catalog of ideas. Why not reach deeper into yourself and expound upon your very on catalog, As this life thing only comes around once. People will be people, things will always remain things, But memories. Memories always stand the test of time. If something doesn't feel right, search your spirit. There you'll find an abundance of knowledge in a deep well. Always believe in yourself, always find that light that pushes you that extra mile. Always believe that through any circumstance. You have the power to change and manifest to life what ever you dream
She sat on the shelf Admiring the other dolls, She'd been there for some time. Watching the other dolls come & go. The only one not wrapped in plastic. She thought her self **** The other dolls never staying long. The kids & their parents quickly by passing her. Grabbing the dolls wrapped in box & plastic. Although very beautiful she'd sit and contemplate the worst. Watching the other dolls come & go. The little black doll not wrapped in plastic. She grew resentment. Finding the only difference was in how she was made. Her brown skin, her black hair. She so longed to be taken to a loving home. She didn't come with any accessories. The vanity that came with the other dolls. Her smile printed across her face. Over time it became hard for that smile to stay. Often crying when the lights turned off and the store closed. She wanted a home just like the other dolls. Quickly picked up, Hurried over to the register. She longed to be like all the other dolls. Watching them all come and go. Their hair tied behind their head. All the make up and accessories sealed in their package. It wasn't until one of the other dolls was returned. Damaged. Half stuffed into the package. When she spoke to the other doll, She discovered that not all homes are what you think. Seeing how rough she was played with. The rough marks across her face, her hair no longer tied in the package ponytail. It wasn't until then that she realized that the best things come with time. Finding the best home in herself Beautiful black doll Taken home to meet the girl she'd be with forever
I needed this so much. A little alone time. Designer jeans. T-shirts printed with out the blue sayings. A moment to ourselves home alone. Wasting time just you & I. Causally stretched across each other on the couch. Commercials filled with Wal-mart families. Insurance companies. Lawsuit claims. Your sugar fills the space between shows. Your head leaned back on my chest.
Neck twisted in a kiss. The TV more so watching us. The wait of working all week for this moment of relaxation.
The anticipation of butterflies, late night texts. The vintage shows we grew up watching, still our favorite. I really missed you. Your shoulder my favorite pillow. The extended twenty-first question of our 21 Questions. Sitting here with you. Soon to fall asleep with you in my arms. To wake up and do the same exact same thing.
Their feathers surrounded by the many trees and the many houses that sit down below. They don't know the meaning of cages, why should they. The majority of them that are fortunate, The thoughts that make us feel in-etiquette. Self doubt, The reason their chrup's reign the highest. The majority that are fortunate. Rejoicing in the moment presented as now. Repenting with each flap of their wings. They are free. Sitting on top of cable wires and cable poles. Warming their feet. Taking the many offers the world presents to them as the things we overlook. A small reminder that silence is necessary
Sometimes I call to just blab Alot of the time it's about nothing. It's not really that I don't like to talk about how I feel. It just takes it to another level That we have this type of relationship. That we can laugh & vibe about anything. It's real because it gives a different type of importance. A different type of love. Something that doesn't have to be serious all the time. I can dial you up or pop up and rest between your legs & just blab. Blab & know that your really listening. Blab because that's who we are. Blab because there isn't any pride to it at all, The world spins a bit slower
I want to be your black & mild The thick hard plastic piece you Slide between your lips The thick hard piece you can't help but bite down on. With each layer that withers away. I want to reveal more of myself In the comfort of where ever you take me. I grow with such anticipation when you reach for me. The moments counting down until you undress me from my wrapper. With the touch of your hand only do I come alive. The whispers only I can hear Before my lips reach yours, embraced in a kiss. Tempting you to bite down even harder. I want this more than you could imagine. Each ash thumped off, a testimony To the moments that unknowingly go by. A means of relief. Making myself available for these special moments shared between you & I. I want to be your black & mild. The thick hard plastic piece you turn to for comfort. My cologne granting peace with each puff you take. Each layer of paper my words wrapping around you. Flaked off without denial. This is the effect you have on me. Taking me deep inside of every thought with no explaination, Our private conversations like ***. Ignited in the whisper of a kiss. Tucked soft between the nook of your fingers. I want to be your black & mild. I want to surrender only to you. The thick plastic piece you hang out of your mouth cocked slightly to the side. Until we both ****** and there is nothing left but hot ash
I legit never knew the beauty black roses possess. I stared at one day after day. She looked like she didn't want to be bothered. Still she'd look and stare. She grew differently than the red ones. Prepackaged, given to others in mass quantity. She'd sit alone and read amongst herself. With arched eyebrows and shapely dress. Most were afraid of her thorns. Despite all the beauty she possessed inside. They only saw her outside. Reason her thorns were so sharp. The misconception that she was to be feared. When in reality they protected her. They made her to think that she was ****. The red roses that surrounded. They'd bunch around her in fear of their own self conscious. Attempting to stop her smile. The more they tried, the more she stood out. Grounded in her faith she grew out of her insecurity. Being the regal beauty that she was. Realizing the heroine she searched was inside her the whole time. Her petals testimony to her root. When I spoke she cheerfully replied with a smile. I walked by day after day
The rumors are true, Nighttime crowds, hand stuffed hoodies. Blah blah blah. Yada yada yada. V neck t-shirts with decals printed on the back of them. Sweatshirts. Loose cargo shorts. The holiday of photo galleries captured between blinking eyes. Tickets sold half priced. Too bad movies aren't the way they used to be. A stigma that everything around changes. A few empty seats, one empty stall in the men's bathroom. A exclusively graphic depiction of unzipped blouses, unbuttoned pants. Toilet tissue stuck to the bottom of worn shoes. Suddenly there's a tote for whatever bag that needed to be held. But then again we're just chatting, aren't we. Two souls with nothing to do but vandalize each other's mind. Blah blah blah. Yada yada yada.
She was curiously odd A perfect stranger appearing after complete disaster An accidental shoulder bump coincidence to the next moment She didn't let the world tell her who she was She just was She was Godlike in manner The way she appeared One moment nothing The next a gust of wind, fast paced crammed beneath the echo of feet against concrete Next thing I knew she was gone
She kissed me unexpectedly. Her lips softly pressed against mine. My lips fully convinced, my thoughts of her. My hands wanting to wrap around her back. The look before her eyes closed & pressed her lips to mine. I haven't been able to think of anything else. Her admirer no longer secret, The look in her eyes, revealing everything I tried to hide. The look of urgency; The anticipation of a rushing heart. Her lips a world I only dreamed & I helpless to the way she tasted. The best things happening at the most unexpected moments. Her shoulders relaxed in the moment. Her lips pressed against mine in comfort. Unknowingly whispering the moment is ours. My eyes close & I am a million miles from where I stood. Her jawline stretched toward mine. Revealing everything I tried to hide. My hands wanting to wrap around her back. The best things happening at the most unexpected moments. Moments that pass quickly in the blink of an eye
And there I felt a sense of elation. Seeing it for the first time. A sense of interest. Soft spoken, somewhat political. Funded by interest. The likes and dislikes of what lures the climate of smile. It felt surreal.
A breath of fresh air. A simple reminder of the smallest thing. Not once did it feel that it was too much. Not once did it feel that it was vain. Off beat.
Watching episode after episode, Subtle unsubtle laughs.
The gist of different references. Spontaneous in the avenue of conversation. I drove to get a second look. Then once more around. The freedom of advertisement. Officially elected in detailed statement. A festival of sorts. I would turn the corner and see all of my favorite characters represented by my most favorite character.
To compliment surprise her cheeks rose like a billboard. If marketing research counts, I was instantly sold. Finding she was a avid merchant. Her infinite knowledge for detail. The gap bridged between listening and speaking. A new experience to a different sector of my brain. The rescue of a struggling smile. A festival of bright smiles and laughs. Corners of strong jawline and spontaneous conversation. It was incredible.
Catching the most important reference, My favorite character in life. Wearing a Bob's Burger t-shirt Granting smile in a instant
In the book of her There is a chapter often skipped. Soft spoken, never read aloud. In the book of her This chapter is chaperone by guilt, regret A wonderful chapter not easily accepted by those whom thumb straight to it Often the chapter after is most fulfilling. This unique chapter is what makes her well her No fancy words, no editorial staff Just the thoughts she keeps to herself. The wonderful thoughts often seen as constellations that fill the night sky A combustion of goofy laughs Noone hears and conversations amongst herself. A priceless vocabulary of made up words and unused slogans A chapter that keeps up with all of her cheat dates filled with loads of chocolate drenched with more chocolate. The things that are all worthwhile as well as the things that make her feel insecure. In the book of her This is one of the best chapters One hardly anyone stops to read
And there began our oral history. Removed from text, living and breathing. Passed back and forth between lips. I myself a promise, her oath. The anxious lump that hesitates in the back of the throat. The inner most of courage exchanged in deep sigh. Finding it impossible to hold on to my own words. I hold on to hers, and it is within this freedom am I truly free. Without confines to anything, other than ourself. That we find influence from events current and past. Well dressed in each others lips. We both fold the page. In exception to our next breath
If my heart were a book she'd dance across the pages. Unfolding the creases folded for a later time Replacing them with the bookmark of her kiss. Opening each page, carefully reading with the glimpse of each truth, The resuscitation of closed pages Now able to breathe. A survivor of tarnished pages and beaten cover. She didn't seem to mind, carefree, joyful, what possessed her smile. Reminding me of a better me, the well being of my very soul laid in her hands without need for a shelf
I had this tremendous fear. The mist soon all around; The water around capsizes. Substance attends, a funeral of sorts. I've never ventured this far. Soon they return, looking back. Fleeing wildish scream. My former thought bold. Such my hope. Resurfacing the ill fated. The thought of sinking. Forced to roam in darkness. Where would I place my feet. Perplexed, nothing was the same. Cold, unable to find comfort. I drifted, longing to chance the size of waves. Distant waters courteous in expectation. I too braced for it. Becoming motionless. Awaiting descent.
Not all ships sink. The voyage extended from strangers eyes. When the wind stops and the sail settles. Some peculiar gaze, heavily weighed in length. The ship sinks. But this I feel far too late. I am at the bottom. The bottom of her heart
Each morning she grants me the unique privilege of providing a smile on her face I know quite a bit about the simple things. To watch her walk in and delight herself with the croissant of open lips A splash or two of milk painting her smile. I just might have to bring her breakfast one day Just to return the favor
Dead in the center of her heart I found a minotaur. Of all things a frigging minotaur. I stood puzzled as we locked eyes. When I stumbled upon him he was sleep with today's newspaper drenched across his lap. He bounced up in full guard. Me being me I asked him for simple directions. Telling him that I thought I was lost. I planned on seeing heart shapes maybe a butterfly or two. A big bunny shape thing or two but you, just wow. He grinned slightly and said yeah that's the first time I've heard that one. One step further, I added. I take it from the amount of drool on the side of your lip you've been sleep for quite a while. Now I don't mean to intrude on your guarding the labyrinth thing but, How about you let me *** a smoke and we'll talk about it at the nearest dinner. After all who can be mad over breakfast
Of all things, She opened my mouth and built a bridge only we knew existed. She arranged pillar upon pillar Of steel beams. I struggled understanding what To do with the left over bolts. She grabbed my hand Taking turns throwing them on the outskirts of where we stood. We stood between the beams, An incline of sights seldomly seen. Afraid of heights she rarely looked down. She'd bury her head in my chest Very rarely she looked down. Spoken words clustered in steel beams Without fear of plunging below.
I loved the way she looked at me. Even if it was for a brief second, I would always stop what I was doing. She had a knack for making me forget the simplest of things. Often times making me stand outside of myself.
She looked at me. And I was in a full length feature movie. Surrounded by a bunch of characters before the plot shifts to us. I'd watch as her pupils dilate. The way her conversation changed from the way I heard her previously. Before bumping into me.
She'd look at me but wouldn't see me at all. She'd see that I had a bit going for myself. That I had a good head on my shoulders. That nine times out of ten, I would stop if she seemed like she was in distress. With so much going on it's hard to tell what's real from fake.
Frankly, I didn't mind it. The way she looked at me. It's been a while since I've seen myself in eyes that large. It appeared that I was in a movie the way we met. The way our conversation would last for hours.
Whenever she would speak it made it that much easier to forget that she didn't see me at all. Honestly I haven't seen me in a long time. The way that I use to be.
She told me that she never had real spaghetti before. Of course she's had spaghetti before but not in the sense that made it worthwhile. When I asked why she replied that it didn't feel real. That in a sense it was pasta. She always broke the noodles when she made it. She developed a fear that everything would boil over and catch fire. That part of the noodles would be too crunchy. All of it would never fit in the ***. Her mother always broke the noodles so it just became habit. In the same breath. She told me at least once, That she'd like to twirl the noodles around the fork. The complete taste and feel of what makes it spaghetti. The cheese blending into the sauce. The big ball of noodles just wrapping around the fork waiting to be bit. When I asked about the meatballs she laughed, She was vegetarian
Before I knew it I ate half the bag. Fifty pounds deliciously resting the bottom of my stomach. I regret nothing. Weighing my stomach with my hands. I tried to save some. Each piece more than the last. Resting on the coffee table of her heart. I didn't expect to eat as much as I did. A decision made in haste, I smiled. Easily reaching into my own bag. Replacing what I ate with that of my own. Her pieces taste far better than mine. Knowing that they belonged to her. My heart rejoiced in knowing this. My taste buds on the other hand longed for more. Savoring the taste. Ready to reach again. Her heart, the sweetest candy I know
In an instance, I felt a calmness sweep across my body. My body free of any restriction. Her being my release. Sweet liberties Utilized by the touch of lips. A period punctuated by perched lips. Released in ounces of color. The way she loved. My tongue swirled around hers. Fingers wrapped around her waist. Brown peach flavored skin. My addiction a place for her to stay, Her bag broken down; piece by piece. A home away from home. Until the day she left. I consulted family, I reached out to friends. They say that she's no good They say leave her be. Truth be told My vacancy left colorless. Bland. My tree grown fruitless Revealed to me in bitter hunger. The realization of perception. Nothing left to fill my hands. This vacancy punishable by death. A ****** filled by her alone. My fingers around her waist. Her love sticky, sweet. Swirling around my tongue. My eyes left low Anticipating her return. They say that she's no good They say leave her be. Truth be told I haven't spoken to them since
By the way. I'm not doing anything later. If you don't have any plans, why don't you throw on some sweats. Your favorite ponytail and we'll find something on TV. A little Netflix and chill. A little takeout and random channel flipping. A stimulating conversation about old times. Inspiration. Our dreams. What we hope to be. I'll call you soon as I settle in. Hop out of the shower. Nitpick about the way that you've been on my mind. The smell of incense and cocoa butter rubbed smooth on your skin. It doesn't have to be anything spectacular. A moment filled with the click of heels. Just the simplicity of a moment filled with you
Through trial & error. I admit I was afraid to love. Opening up felt tremendous. Having known the fear of failure. I was afraid to drown, admiring the ocean from a far. The current which she dove. She'd offer her ocean. Currents pulled strong only she knew it's depth. I lacked understanding. Appearing to move closer, At which point these currents grew darker. I trusted myself, longing to become a single wave swirled in thought. Focused on simple clarity. I didn't want to be like the rest. Knowing the beauty she possessed. I feared drowning the most. Learning to float. The buoyancy of reassurance. The things neither of us said aloud. In the end it wasn't that I was afraid of love. It was her that I feared. Admiring from the shore. The best thing I've ever known. Diving in head first
I don't want to leave you, But in order to better myself I'm afraid I have to. Mama told me that it'll be days like this. Daddy told me to learn from everyone you meet. Shirt now folded, tucked in a bag beneath the bus. To much disdain, I have to leave now. Here on the open road traveling down every thought. A window seat to the world. Open and vast. First person view. A introvert paused next to a bag lady whom resembles the woman I found in you. Not too much to say. Revisiting these old roads etched in my mind. The thing about memorization. You always seem to go back when least expected. Another birth control pill. A baby trying to survive abortion. A layered bowl of chili in a old diner across the street of an old country town. High rise wires always seem the same either direction you go
When I'm near you I'm anxious. At any moment I can explode. A coloration of floral hues printed across the sky, Covering you; the night. Appropriately expanding. A sizzle awaiting detonation. Catapulted high. Nothing to do but fall. Fall in love with you. Plummeting down unable to sit still. Your hand the stripe that surrounds me. Stars; echo in a crackle. Change is inevitable. The glory of being held close, Counting every second until we burst into pieces. Wandering around your essence. Wandering in turquoise yellows & purple strawberries exhaled in smoke. The moon forever jealous Every night July everlasting. The closer I get to you