To Feel

I like listening to soft and somber music.

It highlights the gentle colors in the room

And it accentuates and exaggerates the gaseous, amorphous feelings that have been rotating and circling around each other.

The music becomes this fishing hook that gently catches, reels in, and draws out my emotions.

Or even a ceiling that’s slowly opened

And these feelings just

Float up,

Out,

And away

Like helium balloons.

And I let my head fall back and my wings extend as they escape and some return to help me levitate.

Music really is amazing.

It can stir up passion in your blood, it can be your safe place to cry.

It can be the stimulant that unlocks and provokes your anger and pent up aggression,

Or it can be the blanket of peace that soothes and calms the warring storms inside your heart.

Music can remind you of the rush of risk.

And you’re back.

To when he played that song and you both laid down, parallel and untouched souls,

But the ballad was whispering for you to reach out and trust love.

Four times

Your hand uncurled,

Your fingers extended,

Sliding with hesitance towards his,

But you retreated with fear.

Four times.

Music can remind you of lost promises.

Your dad driving you to preschool, singing a sweet song about the honesty in love and the safety and hope it can bring.

He’s trying to teach you the words,

But you hum the melody, 4 teeth smiling behind your lips.

“This is gonna be our song, Lolo.”

And that moment,

That love,

That promise

Was branded on your heart forever.

Music is a powerful force. 

Ghost of the Unknown

All the chances and opportunities you don’t take become ghosts.

The places that you didn’t explore.

The left fork in the road.

The cliff you walked away from,

The one you didn’t jump off.

The live octopus on a plate.

The song you never danced to.

The guy you never winked at,

The one you never asked to dance,

The one you never kissed.

They all become ghosts that linger over all of your desires and decisions.

They howl past your ear as you drift into sleep, awakening the sting of failure and regret you bury every morning.

They plague your visions and dreams of the future,

Your blossoming feelings,

Your words right before you inhale and exhale them.

You wonder, “Where will this first step lead me?

Who will it lead me to?

Will this be a lost opportunity?

Or worse,

A risk gone sour?”

And before your foot hits the ground you lift it again and bring it back into the safety and familiar domain that is your comfort zone.

A banshee shrieks.

In This Space

In this space, I am hyper-aware of myself.

So, I am the Black girl in the ocean.

Below the water, I am a shifting blur of brown, blue, and green.

Above sea level, I am a pensive woman.

When I am the Black girl in the ocean, I am not in your ocean.

Here, I don’t have to be with anyone or looking for anyone. Anyone to be my someone.

Everyone in this water is searching for someone:

My people, my friends, my kids, my husband, my brother, my sister,

My potential partner.

But I want to look out into the endless horizon and wonder what’s out there, where I could go, how far I could go

With no anchor to slow me down,

No buoy to limit my voyage,

And no winds to blow me off my course.

But sometimes, only sometimes,

I want to look out and know someone is dreaming in the same direction.

And it’s nice to know I’m swimming towards something (or one) specifically.

Or to be pulled or pushed by a force of a storm,

To be entranced.

But I want too much,

While I’m here, I want impossible, paradoxical connections:

To be wild but anchored,

To be on a determined, yet pleasantly deterred, path,

To be limitless and have boundaries.

So today, I’ll collapse my telescope, fix my gaze ahead, put on my resting bitch face,

And be the black girl in the ocean.

Naked As We Came

I went skinny dipping tonight. It was amazing. To be naked and scared, running towards the endless ocean for cover. It was so frightening and refreshing. I had to look at myself naked and watch the waves wash over every inch of me to comprehend that this was actually happening. The water was warm and inviting. I ran towards it like a small child. I splashed in the water in front of God. I felt unashamed. Unashamed of my breasts, my protruding tummy, my small butt. I felt unashamed. I was so vulnerable and exposed and so deep in the water and so scared! But I did it anyway. And I felt so free. The far away streetlights made the waves break in and amber hue, it made the water look so warm. Such a warm color. And knowing God saw me naked and that he wasn't ashamed either was incredible. I was a powerful goddess in that moment. I was brave and unstoppable. I felt so strong and accomplished. I did it. I'm doing this. It was all such an awe inspiring experience. Indescribable. So unbelievably freeing. To let go of social standards, modesty, the law, and just be. Everything about me and the situation was rebellious. It felt wrong but right. It felt like something I needed to do.
To just be.

A Kind of Wonderful

Hearing that song and thinking about you.
Thinking about being with you.
You being here as the music and candlelight bring out the feelings that we've convinced ourselves we shouldn't act on.
We softly introduce our lips.
Once
Or twice.
Until we get more comfortable with touching honestly as our dormant feelings move us.
And pursed lips don't satisfy like loose ones.
Your fingers inch towards my spine, pulling me closer making our wanted exchange possible.
My tongue brushes your lips and your desires respond.
And now the boundaries are gone
And the feelings have been fully unmasked.
Your excitement makes you move fast.
Whisper, "slow..."
And it's like it used to be, but better.
Like a dance perfected.
And then you're deeply taking in my soul
And I sigh as I let you.

Alone With You

I don't like nature at night.
I definitely don't like being in nature at night.
Yet, here we are.
And I can hear the insects whispering and rustling around us.
And I see their small shadows projected on rocks and leaves.
I don't like this at all.
But I like being here with you
On this wooden, dimly lit bench in the middle of a miniature forest.
I rest my stress drenched soul on your chest and you inhale it
And slowly purge me with your touch.
As you stroke my shoulders, I feel the peace spred through my body
And I can finally
Exhale.
My fingertips tracing and retracing
The silhouette of your possessive, protective forearm.
"It's ok, we're ok."
I love seeing my ebony glide across your ivory.
And I love listening to the cadence
Of our opposite breaths and
Feeling it reverberate from my back into your chest.
Our fingers like piano keys.
And we play a melody of sharps and flats,
Crescendos and diminuendos.
Soon our breaths are the same,
One moving the other.
This, I like. This is real.
It's not a movie.
I'm not a hopeless romantic fool
And you're not a man blinded by superficial things.
Hearing your heart beat reminds me that
You're just a person, choosing to spend this night with me.
And I'm just a woman,
Allowing myself to courageously feel for the for the first time.
Allowing myself to be felt for the first time.

Bum-bummmmmm.... Bum-bummmmmm....

Demons of the Dark

He hates the night

During the day, he’s busy and occupied and outward. But during the night , there is nothing but reflection, all the guards come down and then they start the hunt. First, in the shadows, they watch his every move. He can hear them hiding, feel their piercing eyes. He can sense their breathing. They climb the walls, all the while their tales sway, enticed and hypnotic. They simper, hiss, and click to one another about the parts of him they’ll each claim. They no longer try to stalk stealthily: at this point they know he senses them and they know that he doesn’t stand a chance.  Serrated scales scrape the stucco walls, he whips his head to the right, squinting in the hopes that his eyes will find a figure in the nothingness. Webbed talons brush the roof in an antagonizing cadence. His eyes dart to the ceiling, frantically searching for the ominous threat that looms overhead. Clenching the arm chairs, he tries to steady his breathing, terrified that his anxious heaving will conceal the sounds of the lurking predators. He’s completely surrounded by faceless monsters, each of their movements, growls, and sounds contribute to his ever growing and immutable fear. He presses himself farther into the couch, the friction making the leather creak. His fear, mixed with unsteady breath has done nothing but wet their appetite. They cackle, grunt, screech, and whine in every direction. It grows louder and louder, until he can hardly hear himself think. The more he strains his gaze, the more his head throbs and throbs. His heart is beating in his throat, he can no longer breathe. He closes his eyes, inhales to scream and then…

Silence. 

You're The One I Want

You're The One That I Want

You tell me I can't have it.
But I want it.
You say I'm not ready.
But I want it.
You tell me to refocus my attention and intentions and expectations.
But I want it. And I want it more still.

And your holding me back but I'm reaching,
until my bones reach past my skin.
Until my hands are trying to pry yours off me.
Screaming for me to stop and come to my senses and think.
But all I can hear is my voice as I claw your arms and kick your grip.
"Your not ready! YOU'RE NOT READY!"
BUT I AM! I'M READY! I'VE BEEN READY I'LL SHOW YOU!
Your shreds and ribbons under my fingernails,
hanging from my hands as I run from your constraints and into it. And I don't stop.
When I see this white, glass ball
I snatch it from the column and snigger with excitement.
 I knew I could, I knew I was ready.
And I grabbed tightly and it shattered. And now the blood in my hands is
Mine and now the shards in my Palm are my own.
 And I've ruined it.
 I can't even register what had happened.
 Trying to catch my breath,
 hyperventilating in disbelief and disappointment and disdain and disembodied.
My knees buckle to the floor.
I look back and see you with the stains and the tares.
The same breath, the same  pain,  the same look.

She Was There

"She's not the same; It's not... her."

I nodded in understanding, 

He patted my shoulder and trudged into the kitchen

I looked into the open doorway for a moment, 

Needing to burn this moment into my memory.

I walked steady into the room
It was dark to the right.
To the left is where she laid, that's where the light was.
There she was.
It was almost laughable except for the fact
That it altogether was not.
She was on her back
Chin sunk into her chest, hands beautifully at her side.
The skin on her face had the full effect of gravity
Or the full effect of pain.
Phillip was at the foot of her bed.
Told me to sit, like we did this all the time.

He was talking but all I could hear was her body.
This wasn't her. Someone was wearing her skin as a costume
And it was too big for them, She was too big for them.
This was too big for me.

Life was happening but the clock was tapping.

Loudly, like a dripping faucet in a porcelain room.

An hour glass, emptying

Grain, by

Grain by

grain. 

And that’s all I could hear

That clock tick-tocking.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick .

Tock.

It was almost as if death was tapping his toe, saying

I

Am

Wai-

Ting.

If you’re going to be here, hovering over her every breath,

Don’t be a tool about it.

Let her invite you in, offer you some orange juice, bring you a brownie. 

Like she did me, like she did all of us. 

She was still there, 

a paralyzed shell.

She was still in there, banging on the brim of her brain

"I'm Still here! I am in here!"

But I stared, 

And he stared. 

And she was vacant.

Tick. 

Tock. 

Tick. 

Tock. 

Nice To Meet You

Hey Guys!
So this blog is a simple platform for my thoughts, stories, and poems. As you explore this space you'll see it's full of diamonds and coal, but all worth sharing nonetheless.
Enjoy :)