i almost want to laugh at how much i wanted you
sleepless nights. countless.
wondering if I was even a thought on your mind.
if ever the possibility of us fluttered with one beat.
544 days
even if it was for a split second, in a prayer or a curse
you were there. marring everything that i'd built

*
it's funny. He always gives us what we need.
all i needed was something to sully this fabricated sustenance that i wanted so badly to believe in
&
here it is.

Thought I was on the up
But here I am in the deepest abyss my heart has yet to see
Although fairly familiar
Where light is needed to relieve from this torture
This disconnect
from the outside world & everything that is good & delightful
Feels eons away
•
The turn birthed when you came back
I thought you’d never leave, but thank God my heart fails to gambol at the thought of you - finally
Maybe time does heal some wounds

+crowned saint

Thank God for breath
Brush teeth
Pray
Shower
Think of you.
Moisturize
Eat
Take vitamins
Pray again
Think of you.
Text
Practice French
Walk
Current events
Think of you.
Bus
E or J
Hello poetry
Emails
Think of you.
You color the banal
therefore, I
Think of you.

+crowned saint

A simple stroke stemming from a heart-planted seed
Ice white and sky blue freezing every generated thought to one with its chills
Intertwining shades of brown fuchsia splattered to a black space - manifesting into dreams
Blue, yellow, and purple churning with hydrochloric acid forming butterflies
Pulse shooting through into the darkened mesosphere darkening fuchsia's mark
Darkened fuchsia turned deep red lustful passion
An unfathomable crescendo beading sweat with final strikes
Reaching the thermosphere - revealing an exclusive sight of our aurora
It hangs in the gallery "Of Our True Selves"
The finish product is almost disappointing

+ crowned saint
*circa 2015

I miss you;
and I know I shouldn’t because
we never were but,
I miss you.

+crowned saint

I cannot recall you gentle
yet through your heavy love
I have become
an image of your once delicate flesh
split with deceitful longings.

When strangers come and compliment me
your aged spirit takes a bow
jingling with pride
but once you hid that secret
in the center of furies
hanging me
with deep ******* and wiry hair
with your own split flesh
and long suffering eyes
buried in myths of little worth.

But I have peeled away your anger
down to the core of love
and look mother
I Am
a dark temple where your true spirit rises
beautiful
and tough as chestnut
stanchion against your nightmare of weakness
and if eyes conceal
a squadron of conflicting rebellions
I learned from you
to define myself
through your denials

audre lorde

A mirage.

Fabricated sustenance.

A false flourish.


The brush of your almond scented exhale inspires a rush that leaves me in a desired disquietude.

Still every exhale is savored by an inhale

It meanders past sun kissed mounds and valleys

Til it hits your candied oasis.


Inspiration swells with every acme reached

until

you're satiated by my nectar


Calming to a summer zephyr

I turn over to your pillowed chest,

and drift off to an insatiable reality.

+ crowned saint

She treats grace as an abhorred enemy.

Resisting has become a place she’s grown to love.

She longs for freedom forgetting that it’s already hers.

Ensnared by phantoms

albeit,

she knows
In having nothing, she possesses everything.

Her shield is refined by aberrant foibles.

Scarred, yet covered in the Only perfect love

She’s

flawed, but good.

+ crowned saint

Give me fire and I will sing you morning
Finding you heart
And a birth of fruit
For you, a flame that will stay beauty
Song will take us by the hand
And lead us back to light.

Give me fire and I will sing you evening
Asking you water
And a quick breath
No farewell winds like a willow switch
Against my body
In a dark room.

audre lorde.

Help me to find peace

Help me to find purpose

Help me to find afresh

Help me to find forgiveness

Help me to find faith

Help me to find inspiration

Help me to find art

Help me to find love

Help me to find You

Jehovah Jireh.

*crowned saint

That day…
That day when you spewed absurdities

Absurdities relating to an imagined future

A future with a ritual union

A union that would produce a child

A child with sunkissed skin holding both your name and mine

I wish my shield was strong enough to resist the mar of your absurdity

barely leaving a trace
To where I can’t recall

*crowned saint