It is a coffee shop
With the signature aroma
Of a Fresh Roast,
Hazelnut,
And a hint of
First world problems

The clientele
Were so dense
And oblivious in nature
That sheer Caucasity
Would be the only viable explanation
For it all

It was a place that operated in the name of exclusivity and the exploited labor of working class peoples.
It was a Starbucks.
It is White Wakanda.

Love is all just a needless want
And merely just a burning desire
Until
The feeling of his gentle touch
Makes your heart skip a beat
Or two
Maybe even three
And the sound of his heartbeat
becomes
Your favorite song
The taste of his lips
Become an undying
Craving
The smell of his cologne transfers
Unto you
Seemingly blessing you
With his signature aroma

And with the slightest gaze at him,
You begin to see love personified
As an action

Love was all just a needless want
Until loving you
Became my sixth sense

I fell in love with you
Then I fell in love with the idea of us

It happened
In that order
For the first time
Ever

A chronological
Actuality

This story
Is no longer
Your typical
“Girl meets boy”
But instead
It is the story of
When The Poet Fell In Love
Even in your absence
I still Write about you
May you live on not in my dreams
But in each stanza composed of my recollections of who you once were
And what we used to be

My ability to forgive you
Lied within
The acceptance
And recognition
Of the hurt
that you bestowed
Upon me

And in return
I gave you
What you deserved:

My Understanding.

The truth is,
In all of its essence

Is that

Hurt people,
Hurt people

When we were together
I listened to a great deal of
Maxwell

Because we were in
our honeymoon phase
Residing in his Urban Hang Suite

Now I’m stuck
Listening to track 7
On a Blacksummers Night

With nothing left but a
Fistful of Tears

We’d talk so long
That we became utterly
Oblivious to the
Concept of time

Conversations about a
Whole lot of nothing
Turned into a great deal
of somethings and so on...

And then
We ran out of things to say

Time was all we had

I acquired many fears before you
So I maneuver in cautionary silence
Because of them
hoping one can hear me

Not even you

The moment
The poet
Falls in love
Is the moment
Your being
Is immortalized
Forever

The anniversary of my birth
Will be celebrated
(or lack thereof)
In 17 days.

I have 17 days
And 17 pages left
To write about

The Things I Lost When I Was 17

I believed I needed
A change
So I enacted
One
I meditated to
Balance my
Chakras
I prayed,
And I don’t even
Believe in God
I sit alone  
With Sam Cooke’s
A Change Is Gonna Come
On repeat
As if that act of insanity
Is gonna bring about anything
Different

I remember the day my dad left
With his luggage in his left hand
And plans to never return on his mind

It took me a lifetime to trust him
And a single moment for him
To disregard it

Amongst this
Untouched
Skin
and all of
these
Layers
Of emotion
Remain
Undisrupted
Thoughts of
You

I find myself desensitized
To every “it be like that sometimes” gesture
And passive-aggressive notion
That I’ve now chosen to reject
Instead of internalizing

I want nothing from you,
Because I expect nothing of  you

I just sit still, in my distant bubble

Patiently waiting for the day
That you have the ability  
To disappoint me again

I write about you still
Not in hopes that one day
You’ll pay attention
And read my chicken scratch
between the invisible lines;

But instead
To commemorate my recollections of you

I never want to feel myself forgetting you
Like I feel you forgetting me

I believe in Magic.
The kind of magic that
Enabled my father
To transform into
Whatever whomever needed him to be
For the time being
in an effort to adhere
To the needs of us all

I believe in Magic.
My father was
A shapeshifter after all.

You remind me
Of someone

In fact
You remind me
Of Him

You even noted
The similar features
You both attain

You remind me
of Him

But my darling
You are nothing
Like Him

You are
An honest man
You are
An unselfish man
You are
A purpose driven man

He is merely
Just
A man

He loved me like
He loved he loved
Those action figures
He once played with
When he was a boy

We were both mere objects to him
Allowing him to control our narrative
And dictate our every move

Giving his ragged ego
A stroke or
too many

We taught him
What power felt like

And now he’s unable
To relinquish his hold

I was once
Just like you

Complacent
In my own mistreatment
Becoming knowledgeable
Of vile how it was
And then
Projecting
My rightful abundance of anger
Unto the very world
That abused me

I was once
just like you,
Awaiting another calamity
For anything
of the opposite nature to happen
Would mean my universe
Was unbalanced

For I am,
A Black Girl

Disparity and Adversity raised  me

my emotionally disconnected mother and nonexistent father never could

I mourn the tragic loss of my innocence
Just as you do

My upbringing and shortcomings mirror yours

I am just like you

I miss making compromises
That didn’t feel
Like compromises
Because I loved
You
Enough to
Adjust
And be content
Within the confines
Of your comfort

I hated crying
because it
Made me
Feel weak.

I never
realized the power
that lied within
each tear I shed,
allowing me to release


And move on.

Your tendency
To be
The one
In the right
Had nothing
To do
With
Me being
In this constant state
Of Wrong

But instead
Everything
To do
With the fact
That your idea
Of what was
Truly
right
Was ragged as hell
To begin with

I corrected my mistakes
You never
Learned from
Yours

Every aspect of His caress is rather other worldly
The way his warm hands manage to soothe the aching within the indent of my spine

I then slip into an alternate universe
With my eyes tightly shut
As I am introduced to this Euphoria
By the smoothest baritone I’ve ever had the pleasure of recognizing

                    The voice of God

I am intricate
In design
So finely
detailed
with pieces
So precisely
aligned
That even
the most
Minor
of mistakes
During construction
Will result
In utter
Demolition

Confusion breeds uncertainty
And I certainly have no prior
Knowledge on how to
Raise changeability
Or guide indecision

Today,
I’m terribly sorry
I’ve neglected you.

Yesterday and the days before her have such a hold on me that I no longer have any desire to break free and pay you a visit.

Tomorrow,
I’m terribly sorry
That when
I prepared myself for your arrival
I did it with much certainty
As if your arrival is promised.

I baptized myself  
In the shower this morning

It sure didn’t help any though

I’m not
Repenting my sins
And I’m
Still too stubborn to ask for forgiveness

It’s like I moisturized myself
With gasoline
And ran into a fire

My life
Has been
One of
Calamity
And tragedy

Many instances
In which
I am willing
To recount
Without cue

However
Still
to this
Day
I am unable
To recount the day
My father left
Without crying
The most
untamed
Sea

I’ve never been keen on the idea
Of reversing fate
But sometimes I wish
I could go back to the day
In which
all we were able
To visualize was each other

The day
We got lost in each others gaze

Because you no longer
search for me anymore
And now I wish to unsee you
Every time I close my eyes

Without leaving room
For ifs, ands, buts and ultimatums alike
I’ve designed a space for you.
A space where
The walls are painted gray
Such as the lines we walk  
With a hint of letting go.
A space that allows me
To miss you dearly
And acknowledge that distance
Is where fate led us

I’ve designed a space for us
For you
For me.

It’s called
The Middle Ground

I’m afraid to fall in love
Not because of any superficial reasoning
Tied to trust
Or anything else of the sorts

But because I don’t like balance
I prefer my universe to be as shifted
As my point of view in the late hours of the night

I’m afraid that once
I find Stability
Things will start to make sense

And that is simply inappropriate
Because it’s natural

The being
Of my dreams
Personifies love
In reality

I’ve been at a loss.
One unspoken,
Invisible,
And even unknown for that matter

It just lingers
Haunting me
in the most
Surreal yet familiar
fashion

And then,
I remember what it
was like
to love
in August.

“It won’t be
soon before
long that you and I reach
our own Eutopia

Because I feel
our souls finding Harmony
Together

We grow closer each day as we find each other’s rhythm”

Yet you sing at a different register than
I do
You’re never on key

It’s almost as if
You’re tone-deaf

I loved you
Long before I was able
To make your acquaintance

Now we are the dearest of friends.
The most dynamic of duos.

And I’m forced to portray a facade
In which I deem my love for you
Simply

Platonic

You say I’m difficult to read
Sort of like
A run on sentence
Or chicken scratch on paper
But not quite like writing in invisible ink

You say I’m difficult to read
But it’s not because you comprehend at an accelerated pace
It’s because you’re still at an intermediate level
Attempting to analyze an enigma

You are a
Gemini Moon
I am an
Insomniac

There was something
About my proneness to
Remain awake at dusk
That attracted me
To you
And the other you too

         My Gemini Moon

You were
A shy boy
When I met you.

A not-so- social butterfly

Who, when alone
Pondered upon
life’s philosophies
Questioning the meaning
Of it all.

I loved that
About you.

Because it was in fact
The reserved intellect
Who I believed
You to be.

In reflection
I’ve concluded
That my pain
Is multi-dimensional
And multi-faceted

Yet,
There is one commonality within it

But it is not you

It is
People
Like you

The smell of Spring
reminds me of finding true love
and its unpredictable nature.
In this instance I learned
time is of the essence
Even in your absence I still save you the other half of the tangerine.

In the midst
Of one of
My many
Restlessness nights
In which
I stare
At the sky,

I asked the stars
Why
You were so selfish

The wind whispered
To me

Saying
                  “You cannot
                    Expect for those
                   Who did not
                   Receive
                   To share
                   Anything with  
                   You.”

I shut my window
And got some sleep

In the matters of loving freely
I confess my guilt  
And If that were to be a crime
Then I guess I shall Be charged
with doing so at the Nth degree

Falling in love
Is reminiscent of Maxwells’
Whenever Wherever Whatever
On replay on a sunny spring day

Maybe because I am in Love
Not just in distorted memory
But in vivid reality
And that sunny spring day
Was yesterday
And today

And so on...

Until all the seasons have passed
And days turn to nights

Together
Forever

You may not be able to control the way you feel or react in regards to specific things but you can alter your level of engagement with it.

Focus not on what could’ve been or what was but instead where you are now.

The should’ve, could’ve, would’ve is not at all conducive to your actuality. It’s not going to change the outcome.

Just because your feelings were hurt doesn’t mean you were wronged.

You can be right or you can be effective.

Sometimes you are a villain and perpetrator of harm.

It’s okay to be the bad guy in some people’s recollections.

Engage with your wants and desires in a way that is not detrimental to you.

Believe people until they give you a reason not to.

Don’t engage in discourse with people who are committed to misunderstanding you.

Sometimes a persons behavior has nothing to do with you but everything to do with who they are. Don’t take it personally. Move on accordingly.