Tag Archives: loving

Love Letter


Dear you,

I still love you.

In this push and pull,
The conflict that is us,
In me trying to conquer you,
You coming to terms with us,
And me and you against them. I still love you.

It’s not perfect,
By no means is it always that beautiful thing that,
Pulled your headphones off and made me write those words that time,
It’s not new anymore,
It doesn’t sparkle anymore like it did that first time I dared claim your lips.
But I still find me feeling that high every once in a while because I still love you.

Sometimes we forget,
To be that girl and that boy touching nothing but our hands,
Saying nothing but what is passed between two sets of eyes locked.
We forget to be that kind of intimate,
Or maybe we just can’t find the time after the world has made us battle weary.
But I sometimes feel that kind of warm because,
You still remember to lay your head on my breast and just listen to my heart,
Or cradle me without saying words to ignite my tempest.
You still love me.

It can be a dangerous thing,
You and me and all of where we’ve been,
Allies and adversaries, do you remember?
All that anger and hate and passion and longing,
And occasionally old memories hurt more than new cuts,
Baby, I hated to hate you and I still do, because I love you.
And you take it, my angry, hateful, hurtful me,
Sometimes even when undeserving.
You let my demons ravage you and you soothe me back to something kinda human.
You still love me through my shit.

I still love you,
And we are still together,
Despite using words like switchblades,
And forgetting to give each other accolades,
And not knowing when us is me and you and none of them at all,
Despite getting caught up in who we want to be for them,
And losing who we should be for us.
I still love you.

Still, love the way you love me.

Still, love how we love.






A King for the taking


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Now taking a King,
Needed, one brotha grown into his skin,
and liking it there.

One not prone to calamitous attacks of egotistical self indulgence,
capable even of giving this devil her due…

To be returned in kind and ten fold,
A man who possesses a King’s ransom in truth,
A true master in possession of the knowledge of his own weakness.
And in so is able to appreciate the cracks which form a granite woman.

A capable brotha, able to shoulder proudly the responsibility of a woman’s love.
One who finds pleasure in her mind as well as her body,
Willing to bond in spirit with his Queen.

Now taking a King,
A queen in process of building her nation seeking conversation,
Consultation of unmitigated condor,
Was there ever a light that sparked deeper passion?

Seeking a creature of purposeful determination,
an enduring presence,
Not so fickle as to be seduced by the cheapness of a change in self definition,
as offered by the bosom of another.

Knowing it is so much delusion bought on by an inability to harvest pride from his life doings.

Seeking a King, hoping to find shelter in his arms,
as his heart is her fortress,
and their bodies temples of mutual exhalation, submission to faith,
In his steadfast dedication to meaningful things.

A hard won Crown seeking a Kingly companion.



Death by Expectations: Selfish

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I wonder,

If I had not gotten my self too caught up in her,

If I had deluded myself right out of thinking,

I was worthy of my own experience.

Was I star struck,

By this iridescent creature,

My newly found sister friend?

I wonder,

If I had gotten myself too lost in him,

If I had become so entranced in his eyes and his scent,

That I had hallucinated the better sides of him,

And was left with something simply…less.

I wonder,

If for a time my sight was trained too firmly inward,

That I forgot to look out my window,

and take stock of my surrounding,

For I had written the map that I follow,

not so?

I wonder,

If I had become too distracted by this thing I was supposed to be,

except that I didn’t want to,

but had to in order to meet all the expectations laid out for me to die by.

I wonder all these things into the silence,

as I lay awake at night to the sound of his breathing,

wondering if when he moans and shifts,

if when he closes his eyes in coital bliss,

If I am painted behind those lids.

I wonder it,

wetly into my pillow in the witching hour.

Covering my shame in the day light,

masking it behind my ambition,

which may well  be as without talent as it is without resource.

Everyone knows my lies,

I am not her.

Even as I want desperately to be.

I am only the child they raised by accident.

And now, recognizing this,

that my very existence a chance occurrence,

not planned or in any way ordered by me,

That I should relinquish at least a ton of my weight.

Oh God, but my shoulders feel relieved at that.

My feet all the lighter for no longer needing his appraising eye,

to come away satisfied with me.

I remember that I owe him nothing but what I promised.

That which he has though he chooses to ignore it,

For the company of more flamboyant characters.

And her who I wish I was is just another kindred soul,

Sharing more comfortably each day the label of “Broken Thing”.

Repaired in each crack with gold,

and inlaid web of sparkling experience,

and I love her.


I am, in this moment in time and space,

an entity free of all that bullshit,

and I have a right to this,

feeling, clutched desperately to my bosom,

even against the onslaught of the absence of all my yearning.

This inward attitude of righteous aloneness,

determined and directed,

My path dammit.

my journey,

my repentance, and reformation of self.

Time to build me,

time for me to be selfish.

The Conversation

Some time ago I wrote two pieces, one form the perspective of a guy who was being emotionally unfaithful and a reply from his lady. I think I finally found how these two resolve.

Then he said:

“Baby I know I have a funny way of showing it,

I know it might not always be clear,

But babe I love you,

Loved you from the moment you spoke to me that first time

I could feel it, the way our materia intertwined”

So she said:

“ Baby I never meant to hurt you even though you stripped me bare

I wanted to impale you on the spike of you own infidelity

And leave you for dead.

Baby you hurt, me .

I knew it when I missed you sitting right beside me.

But in my redress I only hurt more than I healed

It’s time to let me go”

Then he said:

“I’m the sum of my flaws and I admit that freely

But you belong to me

Whether or not you choose to believe me

I’m yours…I belong to you

I covet you the way a rich man loves his money

You are mine”

So She said:

“I shouldn’t be afraid of you,

I shouldn’t fear your absence, or dread your coming

I shouldn’t hate that I love you

Or resent my own faithfulness.

Baby you know I love you”

They said together:

“Is that enough?

Where do we go from here?”

Then he said:

“I’ll be your pillar if you let me,

Flaws and all I’ll try”

So she said:

“I’ll be your comfort if you let me,

Fear and all I’ll try”

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