So I asked you to come on this journey with me and you told me I had to go alone – just me and my God. I wanted you to come, but it was my fault for not telling you how far we were going – I didn’t know. How could I know if we would take 2 steps or 10,000 ? I mean most people walk that in a day, but what if we were taking baby steps and it took us a lifetime to get there because all I have is this delivery and it takes time for me to birth thoughts from my lips just for it to make sense to you. And all I speak is poetry, metaphors, and euphemisms. Like maybe I needed some company on that part of my journey and you we’re supposed to guide me ? And instead of me walking through the Molasses Swamp, or around Lord Liquorice, passed Gramma Nutt, and straight to King Kandy… But you told me to walk alone, and you left, and where did that leave me ? Standing alone in the midst of an attitude that I inadvertently caused because apparently you wanted me to wait for you even though you told me to go ahead. Fuck am I supposed to decipher such a riddle with more of an enigma that turned out to be this poem which is evident of that fact that I wasn’t as pressed about you leaving as you wanted me to be. I mean, I survived didn’t I? Made it through the morning after and didn’t die so I guess I’ll be alright then, huh?
People give me their energy because I seem to know what to do with it. Every good thought, bad thought, wet thought and sex talk. Every baby announcement, every floor plan, each bail bond, and the second wedding band. Whatever you’re saying, I hear about it but I never know what to do with it. I’m their personal diary – a journal of your every moment from birth to death. A lifetime of secrets and public announcements written on my soul for me to carry on some part of a legacy that will never make it to a Barnes and Noble or seen in a theatre near you. So what am I supposed to do with all the negative energy that’s been bottled up inside of you and poured into my soul that was never clean from the beginning ? Should I sit and keep spinning a spiral of hashtags and virals of videos of your antics on Vimeo? Ayo, what do I do with all the suicidal, anti-political, social-media-induced, confused about life, #YOLO, #NoFakeLoveOverHere ass, #ImReal ass, niggas are now Hebrew ass vibes that come my way from people who won’t let me get an opinion in edge-wise? What am I supposed to do with that energy? I’m out here working poor, no support, love life down the drain, #SingleAndNotLookingToMingle because these niggas ain’t talking about shit, but neither are these bitches… But I’m still positive for you – out here Bill Nye-ing like nonstop science man, trying to convert this energy on the spot without being negative with you because the way my reciprocity is set up – well let’s just say we’re gonna have to fight. So when I say I need space – it’s not for my safety because I’m headed for the stars so I don’t let myself get caught up in your emotional scars. So I’m like, where do I put that shit since I’m not upset ? I’ma “my life isn’t right, but it’s just right for me” type of guy; “I may not have a lot but just enough for me” type of guy. Introverted – so I guess I keep all of my fucked up emotions to myself type of guy, I just don’t get it.
#IDK… #Physics. #EnergyCannotBeCreatedOrDestroyed, but it can be converted. #MyVibe. #BitchDontKillIt.
So what about all the times when I was ready and you weren’t? All the text messages I sent first thing in the morning just to reiterate that yes, I’m thinking still about you whether we said “goodnight ” or not. I had been ready to trade in “good morning” texts for “gm” kisses or sex. Do I just forget how the formalities were your idea and you reneged on that ? What am I supposed to say in respect to the mixtape that I played for you on my page? Hoping that one day we’d sit and listen to songs selected randomly by the universe to keep us connected… forever wasn’t some shit I said to sound cliché. I had to steer clear of words like honey and bae just to keep the feelings neutral because I didn’t know if the feelings were mutual. But what could I say ? If i spoke on it would it make me feel any better? Would it hurt you to be a better fucking adult ? But its cool because what more can I say other than I was ready and you weren’t? That’s cool because I didn’t overreact when I saw you posting pics about second chances and musical dances going back and forth with idea of different romances that I clearly missed because I know I’m not the only one. I’m making Sam Smith stances while your playing our song Voyage to Atlantis like it’s the bat signal… see, no I wasn’t ready. But I’m rocksteady, barely standing here just now understanding that I wasn’t ready to rush a conversation that we’ve had many times before but you’ll act like it’s your first time and I can’t pretend it’s my last rhyme but I can say it’s my last line because what the fuck else can I say…
Like I’m supposed to hear that song and come running back to you because you’re ready…. tsss.
…and this love will be everlasting – one that knows no boundaries when it comes to sex, effort, and communication.
A love that transcends total elation because the combination of you and me supersedes all stimulation.
And even when we get on each other’s nerve and it seems like all hope is lost, we’ll never give up on us. We’ll never give in to the comments, naysayers, or memes that tell us ‘nothing lasts forever.’
We’ll rebel against the laws of love and man and prove it when you hold my hand and fight to fuck the system while fucking each other.
There will never be a need to say ‘don’t leave’ because we’re here, in our mind, in our heart, for always, forever. Just you, just me – always together.
I’ve sat beside clocks in locked closets losing time just so I could think about you. Turned off gadgets and stopped Hobbit to dream about you; and in my mind, I know you have too. Tirelessly pacing floors trying to figure out when the love of your life will fall through the ceiling made of pain that you built after hearing the same niggas tell you the same thing.
Well, I’m here – waiting to catch a feeling from someone that is as excited about me as I am for them. My petals are still blooming even though the last relationship cut the stem, but chances are slim that I’ll let another person make my lighting dim. I’m shimmering in radiant shades of reds and whites waiting to see if you can understand my life. But if I should darken, I can use your light like sunshine in the dark night. Star-bright wishes from you keeping me forever indebted to your love – a strange love that will never be judged by courts or people sitting in clubs looking to dance. All they’ll see is our romance enhanced with inside jokes and poems about how we met and gave love a chance.
You’ll be deep about me – every detail of my life giving you strength to ask another embarrassing question about how nasty I am and I’ll answer. Smiling inside because I’ve never been attracted to someone who is so curious about me. Smiling inside because you’re the only one I want to see. Forever grateful in dark times because I’m convinced you won’t quit. Always optimistic that forever is not a myth. I find myself intrigued by your mind and the way you use it. Aware that everyone and everyday won’t be perfect, but you’re still here.
The quick reactions you have about things you observe – like I already get your jokes. And the cigarettes I smoked have been laid to rest. You came along and make me strive for the best. I guess it’s serendipity when I remember all of the exes that you made me forget. Looking at my past as if none of them existed – making me appreciative of the love that you’ve gifted. I thank you for a vibe so genuinely lifted and high – you interest my mind and I love being able to be this deep about you. I love being able to be that free about you. I give you freedom to explore the depths of your mind and I already love you next time, next life, for eternity, second star from left, new lifetime.
I just want to be apart of the greatest love story ever written: a love starring you and me featuring courage, death, and loyalty. A story displaying marks of true royalty that will be told to everyone including soldiers going off to war – told by parents to children riding in the backseat of the car – exaggerated by old timers sharing memorials over Heinekens at the bar. A story of how two people entered a relationship that began before they were born.
And how they heard that at one time, I was the first man conceived in your womb. And that I was born to protect you from doom. How in the beginning, there was just daylight and sand dunes. And how we argued bitterly for days before I left to search for food, but when I returned a sandstorm had carried you to your tomb. And how I begged the gods for your heart to consume. And at that moment, the skies darkened, the earth broke open, and I became the ocean and you were transformed into the moon. So when the moon is low, you can see my smile in the tides as it looms.
They’ll tell a story that doesn’t end there – about how I became the first woman in your care. How I was a beautiful princess, but you were my concierge. How we were secretly in love, but in public we had to resort to unfriendly stares. And how late at night, a common bed in an undisclosed location was what we shared. And that one night when the moon was bright, our secret could be smelled in the air. And how that night the guards split more than your hairs. And when I became queen, I built a tomb with an infinite amount of stairs so that I could deliver your soul to the moon with care. And if you look down at the pyramids from up there, you can see my footprints on every stair.
They’ll tell a story so good that others won’t believe it’s true. About how one time, I was your boyfriend and you were my man. And how we first lived in different states, but now we share the same land. And how we were persecuted by our family and all of our friends but nothing could stop you from holding my hand. And that one night, we’d sat on the beach with our feet in the sand – looking at the moon wondering if the face was of a woman or a man. And how when we got up to leave, a group of guys shot us dead in the sand. Our bodies pushed into the ocean – separate and unplanned – but still our bodies washed ashore hand in hand. An anomaly that no one else could understand.
This will be our story of forever – of how two indifferent people remained together. Of a love so strong that it could transcend lifetimes. And how no matter the incarnation, the moon sought the ocean for it’s lifeline. And to this day we argue uncontrollably, but we always stay together because of our loyalty.
At this point in my life,
it’s not you – it’s me
when I think of the responsibility
that I played in you breaking my heart. From the very start, it’s my own fault
for what happens to my heart.
You see, I’ve always known you’d go
and I’ll just do what I have to
like Ms. Simone told me so
I’ma need you to know
that I’m good off of this whole to and fro because my push and go game is strong. At one point, I felt I was wrong
for not trying to be your friend
after hearing you apologizing not realizing what happens after the love is gone.
I fell back into a pattern where I’m expecting you to be like me,
but time hasn’t been that long
so I’ll push on –
keeping the memory of you and me
as a menagerie of the good times
we spent together as opposed to the frequent times you told simple lies
about us being forever.
Through all the signs and poetic rhymes,
I understand that it’s me and not you.
This pride of mine has traded sides,
but leaving you alone is something
I must do.
Today lasted forever.
I haven’t seen you in two days.
You said you’d be back over,
but it’s been two days.
Now, I don’t want to seem insecure,
but I really need to see you.
To look into your eyes,
to feel your skin against mine –
something I can cling to.
I don’t mean to turn you off,
but I’m an addict by nature.
I always o.d on a good thing
even if we’re not anything major.
Last time we were together,
we kissed, we touched, we made love.
Said you’d return the very next day,
then called and confessed what you were thinking of.
You’ll come through,
and we’ll kiss. We’ll touch.
You’ll come back again
because you can’t miss a good fuck.
The door will be open;
rose petals leading to the bed from there.
I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.
Will you be here?
I’m not good at “staying in touch.” But in my mind, we have the most beautiful conversations daily at the bistro on Broadway. Delicately diving in and out of conversations; tasting each other’s thoughts over cheesecake and coffee. Tell me more about your goals tho? Like how long have you been interested in directing? How soon do you want to open that film school?
I’m looking into your eyes –
watching their excitement as you speak on the whole Canon v. Nikon debate you’ve put together in your mind. Your upper lip curves to the left when you talk. It makes your nose look duller as opposed to its normal sharp point. Your teeth are nice, too. Its weird, but I like how you have a small gap on the side rather than in the middle. It’s distinguishable and different.
So, you wanna go to the record store so I can tell you how much I know about music? I prefer vinyls to digital anyway. Like, yo, I love quartet-sound: Ace Spectrum, Four Tops, Tweet/ Bilal-type harmonies… Soprano/falsetto, first and second alto or tenor, and that bass? When that shit comes together in my eardrums, it’s like a euphoria. Man, you have to hear DJ Rogers sing “Faithful to the End.” Faith Evans remade it and went in. Like that bottom tenor part is nice… Yeah, I mean I think I can sing, but I don’t like the sound of my voice. I do a little something-something, nah mean?
Lol, but I’m more of a writer – like I’ve written some songs but mostly for other people. I only recorded one for myself. It’s nasty tho.
But look, tell me more about this video treatment you wrote? What was that process like? I wrote treatments, too, but never directed. Oh, so you used a 35mm to shoot? That’s dope, yo. I’m still not grasping the concept of this Nikon thing tho like you gotta show me.
I like learning. Like I get knowledge from everything. Lol, yo X-Men is my bible, man! Rogue, Storm… But Apocalypse is my favorite – I always empathized with him. Like he’s the epitome of Darwinism: Survival of the fittest. And he explains himself like “I am not malevolent. I simply am.” Plus, he’s the first (at least in my eyes), and he’s black. Like Africa. His bio says Arab, but yo, just fuck with me. Fuck with me.
Thank you for fucking with me. Like I expect all our convos to flow like this. I prepared this one in my mind:
I don’t know, I just let go…
I opened my hand while yours was still hanging onto mine – clutching my palm while my wrist stayed calm because I couldn’t bear to keep holding onto a lie. No matter how hard I’d try, my disgust for you would never die. Was it that hard to tell the truth? It was harder for me to learn what to do.
I had to teach myself to not fuck with you as much as I did – each lesson stemming from an unreplied text message or phone call that you took too long to answer… Each lesson was teaching me that your love for me was cancer. With chance after chance, I found that your distance was a choice. But the tremble in my hand, and the dissonance in your voice gave me everything I needed to let go and rejoice. My hand got moist so I opened that shit up and chalked the rest up to luck.
Did you think I would hold on forever?
I decided to let go for the better…
So fuck it, I let go
My hand opened up while yours was still hanging on – gripping my palm long after my hand was calmed. I could tell by the look in your eyes that you didn’t see it coming. You thought that the love I had in my heart for you would just keep running. You were like cigarettes to my nervous system, I just kept bumming. But, with my eyes closed before the Lord, I opened my hand and watched you fall to the floor. Watched you crash as your head hit the board…
Did you really think that I would hold on forever ?
Now here I am, rationalizing if I did it for the better. Hoping that I’ll come to my senses in this letter because I love you, but I’m still naive about if I should have let go more safely. Thinking if I had to be that hasty, or if I could have handled it more bravely… I don’t know. But after holding on for so long, my wrist became lazy and my thoughts about keeping you around became hazy. And, I couldn’t decipher whether you were holding on for love or for safety.
So, I don’t know – I just let go…
with your fingerprints still on my wrist so I’ll always know.