What I cannot find… but am determined… to get back to…

Is not to be confused with

Flavor…

Like hot sauce or vanilla… which can be found at any market…

No…

What I seem to have misplaced is

My Flava

Spelled F-L-A-V-A

And is one of a kind… gifted to me only…

Not to be confused with any other FLAVA

Cuz it is mine…

And without it…

Can barely string a sentence together… and am lost…

As from this springs my issue… and

Without my issue… just don’t know…

Whether to rhyme or to flow…

Wax melodic or staccato…

Iambic pentameter to coax you to

Come with / me and / and be / my love…No- wait...

That’s not it at all-

Have no need of

You being my love… or loving my being…

Which is where FLAVA comes in…

Cuz FLAVA don’t give a ****…

Flava just is…

Unlike consciousness…

Or the awareness of one’s own

Existence…that just wants not to be a

Casualty… and die with the other dead ones…

Who were (by the way) dead long before they

Resigned themselves to undertake the responsibility

Of laying the hell down…

But FLAVA…

FLAVA cannot die… so

I know it’s there… it’s just…

Hiding subliminally…

Under some old debris…

Beneath the ruins of what used to be me…and

When I find it…will then add some FLAVOR

(not to be confused with FLAVA)

…sprinkle some Cayenne Pepper… make it even HOTTER

…fold in some Cinnamon… make it even SEXIER… and

Stir and season…

‘til it feels like ME again…

One of a kind FLAVA…

Gifted to me only…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is mine…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is me…

Gotta get back to me…

.