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I love like
dreaming while I'm awake like that first taste of Hip Hop like dope boys love corners that don't love them like school girls hold their first crush like flying in a world of gravity like black girl loves black boy or black girl like the first poem that didn't know it was a poem like I'll make beautiful of these scars I love like I love like I love like I ain't neva been broken
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I got a collection a collection of still shots in my heart
Moments of breaking and of making Most of them are labled with some version of "not again" or "is it safe here?" Self says I don't know Heart says It's been safe here They were just not safe IN here So, every day Me, Self and Heart collectively decide to continue to love We just keep the still shots as a reminder that it's not safe to let everyone in But, just like heaven, I find it odd that this gate is even necessary Do you know tired?
Ever tasted it after a memory slipped like bile up in your throat? Ever felt it tap you on shoulder and make you crumble? Hell is the way tired convinces you that you are exhausted with living When your reflection betrays you and looks like all the THEM that left and broke you on their way out of the door It is the miscarriage of love and love's stillbirth Tired is victim being accused of playing victim But they don't know tired They don't hear it no matter how loud it screams They only recognize it after you're tired enough to finally leave |
Author"I was blessed with the ability to make ugly look pretty. This is my superpower." Archives
August 2022
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