The Daydream Before Christmas

P.S. I love you and I promise to always be true and to put my loving hands all over you and your most sensitive bits and to constantly remind you of how sensibly we fit. How you were always it. Or it was always you. Basically, we have this chemistry and settling for less just won’t do.

The Things She Carries

She carries the reflection of a long lost love making up for the years we were made to wait while crossing out strangers faces and names while trying to remain sane throughout it all

Tripping On Her 

I’ve got a story for everything
And marks on my neck the length and girth of Tennessee
From a girl with a sweet tooth for the likes of me
She’s got her eyes on my body of work
And the words I say are always on their mark

All The Right Places 

​The way your eyes seek every wounded crevice of my soul
Questioning why I kept falling in love with assholes
As if I didn’t know there was you to choose from

A Poem For My Daughter

I adore her passion Matches the sparkle in her eyes Her life, like her spirit Rages like a bonfire in the sky She arose from mommy’s belly I played catcher in the rye From that moment on our bond solidified From love – peace and crying streaks and breathing for the very first time No […]

The Both of Us

They come in twos. Girls interested in knocking my boots, but my heart was so fragile I was afraid it would break in two. Never again would I allow one all the in… or so I thought. Thanks to you. Down on bended knee I presumed was the last time I’d assume that position, but it wasn’t true.

Deeper Than a Hashtag 

Black people I must say that until you begin to truly value yourself more than anything they will continue to fear you and kill you over the simplest things, and ultimately you’ve got to stop resisting because living matters far more than the arresting reality of a bullets sting opening deaths door.

The 4th of July 

​Driving home along route 41 the lonely abode my car afforded was no sanctuary for long lost love, no it was as profound a statement as the fire works raining down from above, in memory of the day our country won yet my people were lost.

A Poem for Pulse

The noise of death filled the air as he reloaded, groan after groan, clip after clip and screams exploded, filling rooms where music no longer induced dance movement and lively gyration, the floor became a death bed of bloody damnation, spilling out and filling spaces where I saw myself in the eyes of the black and brown faces.

What I Long For

I can taste a future together with you, woman, it is that serious. Here I am swallowing stacks of memories we have just begun creating so you can linger on my mind a little longer even though I hate waiting.

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