Pisces Rising (Poem)

He loves me in theory

Expressed repressed passions for entrance within me

I mirror his desires in the base of my spine

where my skin calls out for the gold that’s been refined

I imagine it sits in his fingertips

I’m sure it lies dormant on his lips

But chaos seeps in from the destiny sealed

I could play in his storm

But it wouldn’t be real

A Letter

Dear Crazy Lady,

       You don’t have to worry. I know you have a tendency to do that when the threat of love, conflict, disappointment, or disapproval work their way into your life. But don’t fret. I have been here since the very beginning. I watched you beg for love, friendship, and acceptance. I watched you express yourself through various channels. I watched you cry and fight for visibility. I watched you put in conscious effort over time to be a better woman, mother, sister and friend. I know better than anyone the fear that you live with. This consuming idea that without love from outside sources, that your life will be barren, and you’ll be miserable. Do not allow yourself to internalize this idea. As its complete bullshit. Continue reading

A Moving Love..

He houses love in it’s most authentic state…giving all of himself consistently. Sometimes I wonder how he never manages to run out of “self” to give. I always believed that productive love needs to be fed it’s own energy by another source in order to survive. I know I don’t replenish him the way he must need to be replenished, as my love is a moving love. His love is stagnant. Sitting comfortably in his core… Ever present, unmoved and unchanging. I am often overwhelmed by it.

Continue reading

I’m A Cup

 

Lets get into me

Because without us I am empty

Ceramic tea cup

Chipped

An accident waiting to draw blood

From lips

Meet me in the dark

in my deepest dark

cold and shadowed

I will wait for you

To come into me

Because without us I am empty

Make me canteen

Life saver

In heat

Bring water to my darkness

In the deepest dark

Cold and shadowed

I will wait for you

To come into me

Because without us I am empty

 

Interracial Relationships: The art of Forgetting/Remembering our Colors

The first time we stood in front of a mirror I didn’t believe our reflection. We stood naked. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on my shoulder. He watched me watch us. I began to notice just how different we were. On a regular day I identify as a woman. But in that mirror, I was night leaning its back on the sun. His hair like silk waved and curled in the morning sun-rays shining through the window. My mane coiled and locked in last night’s heat and sweat. He was sculpted golden and strong. I was brown and shaped like a mother. His chest was made in the gym. My breasts were designed by my son, who depended on them for life a few years prior. His soul was bustling city. My soul was meadow and rivers. I asked him if we “looked right” to him. He told me he thought so. No hesitation. He seemed confused that I’d even thought to ask. This was the first time I noticed that he and I were different colors. We were shaded differently on countless levels. What was looking back at me in the mirror? Was this balance? Wasn’t balance supposed to be a good thing? I didn’t know what to make of it…because what I wanted to receive as balance in our reflection came off like a smack in the ass on a crowded bus in a town I had never been to. Just like that. The man who spent the whole night talking to me about the dance between galaxies, speaking my soul’s language and shit, was now someone I couldn’t remember connecting with. The man I spent the whole night prior with on the docks at the harbor became foreign land. Was I a product of mental conditioning? Yes…yes I was.  Continue reading

Strip.

I’ve noticed that people have a tendency to do this thing where they interact with others as “presentations” of themselves. This happens often when interacting with strangers. We decide within the first three seconds how we want to be perceived and then we go forth and present the layer of “self” we think will get us the desired result. We season our interactions with bits and particles of ourselves. Afterwards, we don’t stress. That attractive ass security guard at Target has pinned you as flirty… confident. Your interviewer has pinned you as sharp and well spoken. Your significant others’ parents have pinned you as genuine and sincere. A good influence even, regardless of the fact that you may have convinced them to quit that part-time job to spend more time with you or some other selfish bullshit. We’re all guilty of this on some level right? I know you know this dance.

Here’s the thing though. I won’t be presenting my best self to you. Continue reading