your brown eyes help me see things that my soul cannot grasp
and your tan skin helps me soak up the sunlight
that my pale skin craves.
i have never seen something more beautifully destructive
i have never felt something so peaceful.
if loving you is sin,
tell God not to wait up on me.

all of the atoms in my body
have tried to conjugate different
reasons for your absence
but all they can come up with are grossly
overused analogies and misplaced eulogies
i want to go back to the time
when we were stealing socks
and kissing in movie theaters
jumping over fences and scraping elbows
but instead i'm laying in my bed
tasting salt that drips from my cheeks

it's like holding the world in your hands
and letting it slip from your grasp.
like owning the most beautiful, priceless
piece of artwork the universe will ever let their
eyes get a taste of, and letting it burn in the fire.
this is the emptiness they tried to warn us about.
it's burning aches in the middle of the night
because you can't quite close that wound.
it's constant pain that no amount of medicine
can fix.

its been 40 weeks,
286 days,
6847 hours,
412475 minutes,
24748569.. 24748570.. 24748571.. seconds,
a whole pregnancy since
you decided to vacate this unbalanced soul of mine.
a home you said you would never leave;
but when the walls caved in and the roof started leaking,
when the paint started peeling and the floors started creaking,
you grew tired of paying out of pocket expenses
to repair a home you no longer felt safe in.
so you packed what little you brought,
and left with what plenty you had gained.
anytime a person enters they soon leave
because your ghost still dances in these halls
your eyes are the color of the walls
your voice seeps in through the window.
your scent still lingers here and it has
made its home on the furniture.
when the sun rises we see silhouettes of your body
cascaded across the bed sheets.
your soul still lives here, wandering around these rooms
kissing the window panes.
your body left this house, but you still live here.
haunting me.

have you ever wanted something you just can't have?
alcohol, ****, pills, burning bridges, fast rides, you?.
my mom has always said "i'd rather you bring home a black
boy rather than another girl", this made me feel almost proud
like i could bring you home and they would be less disappointed
but; you're still not allowed over, so i'll sneak you out of my window
in the morning, and we'll forget until it's time to do it again.
"he's only 2 shades darker then her" by now my mother
is trying to feel less ashamed
but the blood that boils in his skin is no different than mine
his mother still drinks her self to the brink of insanity
but he says i help him breathe
momma oh momma, i can't tell you how many nights
i have wanted to scream and beg God to make your eyes
contrast things differently
but everyday his skin becomes something new for you to
agg yourself onto, maybe if we take his skin and put it
in the equation, you'll forget that you're smoking your
lungs black,
momma his hands feel so much like home,
when i am with him, that sadness which sits upon
my chest cascades out of my body,
momma i have never felt more like myself.
please forgive me.