I’m high and low pressure systems
forming a cyclone over still water.
I’m an alternation, a series of changes,
A nomad with sand on my heels from
every corner of this nation.
I’m green, magenta, sunny yellow,
cerulean, and turquoise;
but most of all—I am Black.
So don’t look at me, then attempt to
test that.
I’m a child in constant wonder.
I’m the pilgrim and the chief,
the tree and every one of its leaves,
the occasional low, thick cloud
or a forgotten rain puddle, filling
the ground.

A lover, because I’ve fought;
a winner, because I’ve lost.
I am different, in that I am everyone;
I am the difference, in being the sum.

I’m the fruit of ripe relationships,
the mulch of those that have soured,
the taste to make your lips pucker,
the voice to uplift you, to empower.
That song with a melody easy to forget,
but with words that penetrate—
That dream you can’t quite remember,
but with sensations you can’t escape—
I’m a string of ideas, of art,
of symphony. Minor chord progressions
of the highest order,
a dissonant masterpiece.

This is a man who keeps rearranging the impossible to seem illogical.
It’s so probable; yes, it’s very likely
that he gives me new heights to reach,
new pep in my steps, new hops in my leaps
Endlessly, unconsciously,
he believes in me.
No matter the consequences,
he sees successes beyond my transgressions;
yes, he believes in me.

This is a man who keeps rearranging the possible to seem more logical.
He has the hands of an architect, a skilled artisan,
of a weaver, of my thoughts and fears
into noble robes; a painter of my passions into
shades of royal purple out of melancholic blues.
I see God’s blessing in his wisdom,
in his zeal to make me stronger
His beautiful language and emotions… make me long for
edifying conversation,
righteousness and ready resolution.

He gives the coordinates for all the right
tactics; he, master of maneuverability,
navigates this war we’re in, against our flesh
while we’re dressed in God’s grace.
It’s almost unsettling to need him
in this magnitude.

This is a man, transparent yet a mystery,
who fearlessly gives his all to me.
He had no idea where the race would end,
yet he ran full-speed, straight into me.

A smile recalled in every tear,
I can't get over you.
We met and were pulled, strangers but not quite.
Your light in your smile warmed my world;
your beautiful, brilliant mind shared space with mine.
Buttery brown, lovely and fiery…
Our first kiss was almost a forest fire.
Love had plans for us, and I can't let go.
Your adoration of life healed my icy soul
Your paved the unbeaten paths of love in me
Everything sweet is you, everything…
Sugar, Honey, a pretty please.
You are me, and I'm done lying to my face.
Us is every heartbeat. Dull, low, aching, yet alive.
Days crawl by as I devise my master plan
Although I may lose myself, I will fight to win
your affections back.
Everything is our dream, our secrets, sharing,
that dinner we cooked, that adventure we had downtown.
My love for you is loud, crooked and clear
It pierces my bones, fills my hollow corners.
Yes, you make me nervous— you are so great,
so much of my self.
Our trying times are locked tightly in my chest,
Reminding me of who I am supposed to be,
and from whom I must turn away.
Hope fills me, underneath this clotting. Hope unabashedly,
even when dwarfed by my aimless nomadism,
painful nostalgia,
Hope lives. I ask God, and I beg Him.
I think about us

so this is delicious.
this warm sticky syrup in my cavity,
cherry-flavored love.
makin' my head hurt with all this
milk-chocolate love...
my favorite ice cream flavor,
so-sprung-i-got-brain-freeze love

can i be the cookies? and you be the cream?
it's bittersweet...
but it's beautiful. like warm rain in the South,
walking down the sidewalk barefoot,
like the most amazing kisses, biting lips and ******* tongues,
like climbing a tall mountain,
like freefalling from a plane.
need that high from his needle; i'll deal with the pain tomorrow
our skin tones together in a blender, his eyelashes,
the taste of ****, of tenderness...
how come i can't bottle this moment up
and get tipsy off of it, whenever you’re not near?
if i could bag this feelin’ up and sell it on the block, i'd be rich.
but like a shot,
like a slap, like counting stars rolling past,
it's gone.
no words. no fingers. no warm flesh,
just gone

Swept, clean
in the arms of the wind
like water through my fingertips,
looking down a waterfall...

It is cradled and crafted by the
hands of my heart
wrapped in a warm soft sweater of memories

Clouds overcast my thought, pregnant with
needles, raining on my skin, the air smells of rust;
it's swelling and choking me, it poisoned my sleep...

Then like a beautiful symphony heard once,
it is gone. A meal digested.
Like a violin solo, like a dreary concerto, a eulogy stuck
in my head,

my chest is anchored. My blood flows slowly.

You'll find me, still hoisting the sail,
braving the glaciers, the Krakens,

but who would stay to join me in these seas?

Winter, summer, rain and sun
all in one. You’ve become that someone
I never knew was my half, to make us one.
Never is there anyone strong enough to make a disconnect-
ion from me to you; distance only makes me
want to intersect with you. Thoughts of us interject,
punctuate, dominate my day-to-day
The words you say penetrate; they stand and stay, residing deeply
In my space, my consciousness, the graffitied wall
that is my soul. You’re a permanent brand,
a dye that can never be bleached nor fade away;
you’re a hue that tinges my awareness every day.
The light of my dynamite,
the defined constellation in midnight skies,
gentle hands to tears I cried…
Where are you now?

The purest diamond,
the cleanest water,
the sweetest sugar, the warmest weather
but I insist on wearing a sweater,
thirsting for something bitter.
Love is all around, yet I’m
sealed in my sadness
Knowledge’s fruit tastes so sweet, so right,
then briskly becomes bitter.
Love is just too large, too clean, too perfect
for me to understand.

Heavy, painful, filthy feels
fashionable in this life…
Despite my comfort in it,
Love looks at me with His kind eyes,
lifts me out and makes me bright.

We always have a reason, an excuse;
it’s easy to be unclean.
But when it makes me sick,
but when it starts to hurt,

Love comes from the light, to which I’ve turned my back,
mends my heart and makes me right.
Love comes from the light, mends my heart and gives me life.