Rusty

Long hair, thick and red like the rust on an old water fountain left out in the sun too long. Green eyes bright like the blades of grass in spring. Guess my race, bet you won't get it. Then again you may. My shape is like the dusty road that curves to the left and the right, wide enough just right. Lips thick like pieces of bread fruit and lashes long as vines. My mother was as black as the indigo that drips from the plant, hair was as wooly as the cotton we picked. But I loved her. Yeah they snickered when we walked by. I didn't get here by accident. God doesn't make mistakes. I was put here on purpose. Regardless if my daddy was an Irish man, the overseer that slicked his way in my mother's mud hut. And then there was me. Me. Momma named me Perception. But she calls me Rusty for a nickname. Because of my wild fire engine hair. Boy do I have a story to tell you.

Everlasting Love

He never doubted me. Not once. Even when I rebelled, acted out, and possibly emberassed Him. He loved on me even more. More than I could ever imagine, more than I could ever want. His love for me overflows until I am overwhelmed and consumed by it. I need Him more and more each and every day of my life. I don't want another man touching me. Just Him. I need Him to survive, breathe, for He is my air. No man can replace Him. He is always around me so I always feel pretty. Beautiful and whole on the inside and I know no one can take that from me. He is always with me. My heart beats for Him, I couldnt bear living without Him. I feel safe all the time because I know He wouldn't let anything happen to me. My man makes sure I never go without at all. He makes sure all my bills are paid, and I get anything I ask for. He is my cure when I'm not feeling well, and my joy when my spirit is low. He is my everything. Did I say that already? I love my man, I don't think I spend enough time with Him, but He is so patient, kind and willing that He knows I am trying. I love hearing him speak. His voice so rich, beautiful and sweet to me.
   I never knew a love like this could exist, I am never messing this up. This everlasting love,  this beautiful feeling, this scent of His, like fresh roses in the spring.

Malinda's Room Pt 2

I saw you all hugged up, on a chick on your facebook. Oh so I guess thats your way of telling me,  fuck me (literally and figuratively). I have been up for a week, angry getting no sleep. Nightmares plague me, I am so scared of losing you. Vengeance goes through my head, I think about hurting you, no matter what I say, you just don't seem to care. She could never love you like me, she could never touch you like me, she could never understand you. Fuck this new chick, that you lust so much, you perpetrate like you love her so much. The only thing she can offer you, is that sex you love. When I put my heart right in your hands, and you threw it right back in my face. How can I forgive you? When I never claimed you? But I truly wanted you? I even prayed to have you? It hurts so bad. The way you trying to play me. She aint got nothing on me. Baby look in my eyes, and tell me you dont feel the same way. Tell me you're not feeling me. Tell me you don't miss me. I thought if you knew better, you do better, but it looks like you scraping the bottom of the crab barrell. I threw my pussy at you, put my self on blast. Then you shut me down, in front of our mutual friends. Fuck this chick that you lust so much, when it's quite clear that you're not in love. She could never be me, I mean look at me. Pretty, hot, tempting...Put it on a platter for you. So why are you fronting on me?

Malinda's Room

Your eyes say it all, your lips speak whispers. Wrapping your emotional arms around my heart. Distant kisses caress my face and neck. I stated the obvious, but you denied me, and lied to me so now I have resentment. Every email, every text, every phone call, or message gave me mini heart palpitations, murmurs, and ripples. I had something to look forward to. Gave me something priceless, the will to love again. I swallowed my pride, held my head high, turned myself inside out so my feelings could speak. Opened the door to my room. A special place, invite only, open policy, I want you to own me. Cover me in love, like kisses. Fill me up, I'm running on empty. So when you tell me you're not feeling me. This room grows cold, icicles grow, I can see every breath I take. Now I'm frustrated. Why are you even here, just leave me alone. My room is now locked. You must not know, a good thing when u see one. I never had a problem finding love, it's finding the right love, that's the problem. When you know better, you do better. And frankly, I've been settling. Now I see a good thing, the last breed and he doesn't want me. That's what your mouth says, but everybody sees it differently.
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Forget the 5th Date

Yes. I'm feeling these vibes transcending between us, letting off bulbs of radiant fire and energy. The aura is unmistakably sensual as the more time we spend together, the closer and more connected we are. I want this to last as long as God wills it, blesses it, and encourages it. I don't want to give it up, ruin it, stain it with a rogue red I can't get rid of. I want us to stay purified and white, full of innocent love, a bond that can not be broken. Forget the 5th date, it does not set anything in stone, that after 5 dates we have a love that is guaranteed. Forget the 5th date, this number 5 does not mean you are the one for me and I am the one for you. 5 dates simply mean we are having fun, connecting and sharing. Why not wait until we know for a fact that our love is for real, so real we profess it before God, His disciples, in His house. Why not wait until that date. The date when I know for a fact you are pure, loving, your spirit is right and I can let you enter without contaminating me with inner demons lying dormant and afraid. 5 dates does not tell us if I am the missing chain to your internal cage, the one that was conceived and put on this earth just for you and you for me. Let us pray a little longer, connect tighter, and let this love bloom naturally.
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Mistress No More

This is turning deeper than a fling. It was only supposed to be pleasure,kicks and no pain. Our dirty little secret, hidden from the world, it was supposed to be a one time thing. Then it turned into a weekend trend, and we both became greedy, turning it weekly. I didn't expect us to become addicted to each other...You had to see me every chance you got, turning me into a business trip, a client consultation, a impromptu meeting. Every lie she fell for it. I told myself to stop, this isn't right, I'm wrong. But I found myself weak to you, in your arms again. I tried everything to keep you away. I even admitted and professed that I was in love with you. And I could have died when you confessed that you loved me back. I was sick of hiding, lying, and creeping. Sick of being a part time lover. Waking up alone, sleeping alone, eating dinner alone,celebrating alone. Tired of meeting you in odd places where you would never run into anyone you or your wife mutually knew. Bookstores, out of town museums, clients' timeshares, the beach house she knows nothing about. No matter how good you make me feel, I still feel disgusting, slimy and used. I am no more than a prostitute. Why? Ever so often you transfer money to my account, we never talk...Of course you talk about her and what she lacks. But before this we were friends. We talked about the world, how we could change it and politics. The court of law and it's fairness. Now our bodies do the talking. Your draining me emotionally and spiritually. I can't be your mistress anymore. I won't allow you to use me like a urinal. Do all the things physically she won't do but come home to authentic love. I'm done. I'm your mistress no more.
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Dear Father

Dear Father,

Oh how I love you, I can't even count the ways. You are just my everything. I need you to make it in this world. You have covered me through so much I have done. Foolish mistakes I have made, lousy choices, crazy options. Yet you loved me harder and got me way out of it. Just want to tell how much I love you and appreciate you. If I wasn't for you being on my side, where would I be. You won't even let certain men that I think are right for me, get next to me. I love you for that! You place people in my life that are good to me and for me. Although lessons you let give them to me for a reason. You gave me a wonderful heart. A kind heart. But the wisdom you give me is soooo amazing! I love it! Father you are my everything. I look back and I compose myself because I give you all the praise. Your mercy, your love is so everlasting! No matter how deep I fall you pick me up again. The only Father that has never let me down. Wow! Never lied to me. Look at this beautiful world you created. You are awesome. I love you Father. Thank You.
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Wedding Cake Blues

If I sit at one more wedding. Stand as one more bride's maid. Try to catch one more bouquet. Dance awkardly with another groomsmen. If I receive one more wedding invite. Wedding registry. If one more person ask me what am I waiting for? I am going to scream. Yes I have dreams of a pretty all white wedding, with beautiful pink and white roses, and tearful vows, and dancing with my father, and a big beautiful wedding cake with whipped frosting, and champagne that flows endlessly. I dream of my handsome, strong, hubby taking off my garter and peeking at my sexy undies. Because you know he can't hardly wait any longer. I dream of throwing the bouquet, trying to aim it and toss it at that right angle for my bestie to catch. These are my dreams, and I want my dreams to come true. So I give God control of choosing my match. I'm just sick of these batches of questions I'm being asked constantly. Damn. I'm only in my twenties. Stop badgering me. What's the rush? Why do you want me married so quickly? I want the marriage, not the wedding.
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Literary Romance

Laying on the floor writing peaces in my notepad. Soft rhythms float across the room, I can almost see music notes flying, swaying in an imaginary wind. You pluck your guitar strings, I stroke my pen across my pad. It's like we're dancing. Last night's memory makes me stroke harder, my heart beats faster, My eyes starts water. What did I do to deserve a blessing like you. Fingertips brush across my face, showing me you can relate, to the appreciation I feel for my Love. We began to create music, straight from the depths our souls, our audience shall behold. You the play the guitar harder, and hummm softly, I write faster, snap my fingers, nod my head, close my eyes. We just made beautiful music. Me made love in the artistic sense. Our literary romance.
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Ode to the Surrogate Father

The surrogate father is the father who steps in the place of the absentee father. These men are the most brave, kind and makes the most sacrifice. They put their needs aside for a child that does not share their bloodline. Surrogate fathers step in when no one will. They don't see children as a problem, a priority, they see children as innocent littl human beings that need guidance from a strong, positive lead. They are not perfect people, who make perfect choices but they make sure children learn from their mistakes. The surrogate father is a blessing because he doesn't have to be your stepfather. He could be your uncle, Godfather, Cousin, Pastor, Mentor, Counselor. Father does not just mean someone your mother was married to or got her pregnant with you. It is the man that stood beside you and behind you. Taught you and was always there for you. So do not be bitter on this Father's Day for lack of a biological father. Smile and praise God for the one who stood in his place.
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Ice Cream Lips

Sweet, cold, refreshing ice cream. Spoonful in my mouth, taste buds explodes, foodgasm erupts. Chunks of black cherries fill me up. Lips are now sticky sweet, still cold and I can still taste the sweet cream. In the back of my throat, tastes of black cherry floats. I was hot, annoyed, and mad. Now I'm cool, sweet, happy, and smiling. I feel like flying, writing and singing. Heartfelt words swim from my heart and drip off my sweet ice cream coated lips.
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To Be Unified

So tired of being approached by brothas with the world on their shoulders, dragging heavy luggage, broken hearts and vulnerability. So tired of them trying to leech off of my energy. So tired of brothas trying to wear me down with their problems during the first phone convo, I give them advice but they seek more. So tired of sharing my bad days expecting sweet words and assurance, to only get apologies or silence. Needy men, boys, babies looking for a mother and not their equal, have temper tantrums when you explain to them that you don't want them. You need a real man, a strong man and you shake your head sadly when they ask you to mold them into that man. I need my man to represent his position as dominant, a spiritual lead and when he feels faint to I can give him strength as his rib. I need my man to hold me, keep me safe, physically, emotionally, spiritually. When I have days pray with me and for me, love me unconditionally. Show me how deep love can be. Cause me to fall so deep in love, I wouldn't care if I married him in a bath house. To need him not only physically but literally. As if our hearts beat as one. Unify me.
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Reserved Space in my Heart

I kept a special place in my heart for you. I just knew we built a foundation of chemistry that could move within the atmosphere. A friendship bond so strong, a seed of a flower of love could bloom from. I imagined laughter, songs, psalms, proverbs, and fresh water. Cold winter nights in your arms, and warm summer days walking through the park. I imagined a village full of beautiful dark skinned children, with their mother's lips and daddy's eyes. But I'm beginning to feel these dreams are empty and a waste of time. We don't talk anymore, the little conversations we have are few and far between. I know someone has caught your eye, and painfully your heart. I'm so tired of waiting, I feel like I'm wasting away on someone else's time. I'm beautiful, intelligent, prophetic and poetic. I have a love that is magnificent, refreshing and healthy. But he doesn't want mine. I put my sweet, silky love on a diamond studded priceless platter, complete with all the fixings. A full plate of delicacies that will keep him well nourished and healthy. My God tells me the only space in your heart that needs to be reserved is for me. I agree. But I just knew he was the one for me, that he would love me like Christ loved the church. You deserve better He said, someone that can complement you, smile with you, and not push you away. And the Holy Spirit loved me.
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Early Bird

I love waking up in the morning. The sun is bright and welcoming. Birds greet me as I step out the door. Smiling children skipping off to school, wave at me. The smiling old woman with the long white hair greets me as she is sweeping off her porch. I love watching the men on their way to work. Blue collar, white collar, chef uniforms, I even see the young hustler with sagging pants standing on his corner. Crisp white ironed shirts, nice silk ties, creased slacks and polished shoes. I see daddies walking their baby girls to school. Mamas on the bus got their son by the hand "Don't you scuff them shoes playing today" she says. I smell the bittersweet aroma of exotic coffee beans, sweet chocolate mocha frappaccino topped with fresh whipped cream. I smell the fresh ink of the morning paper, hot off the press, delivered fresh just before dawn. I watch people intently read, wanting to know what is going on in their back yards. I hear horns blowing in traffic, high heels tapping, coworkers laughing, and the wino sitting on the bench ice cold bottle of wine cracking. I see the couple I see daily on my commute embracing. Sharing coffee and whispering in each other's ears, his lady blushing. I taste my hot buttered plain bagel slathered with cream cheese, and the sweet teasing taste of my tall caramel latte. I smile as I walk by other students, employees, and other pedestrians. I thank God for these beautiful days. Amen.
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Dinner Date

We just finished the appetizer and here I am with my hips in his hands, my back on the table, and my heels in the air. Dishes lay in heaps on the floor, cracked, broken, shattered everywhere. The glasses, those expensive glasses I admired when I first sat down. Crystal. They were crystal, expensive goblets and I watched in awe as the wine swirled against the shiny glass, red against clear, almost mirror like. Well, they was no more. Wine was splattered against the wall, glass was in the mix with the dishes, and what was left of our salad was...Well lettuce was floating in the air, and tomatoes were squished and squashed on the table. If I wasn't so busy moaning, gasping, and cursing I would have been giggling at the mess he made. We were discussing politics, laughing about a movie that was released ten years ago, and we became heavily engrossed in cultural things. We talked about hunting, fishing and sailing, and then we swapped reviews on plays. I said "Shakespeare", and a half second later I was lifted in the air. Dress torn, panties ripped, hair undone, I see one arm go across the table, and next thing I know a loud crash. But he wasn't finished dining yet, if you get my drift. I lift my head up and I see a smorgasboard of china, crystal, and red wine mixed. Splattered against the nearest wall, and I feel heat rising, and my heart beating, my legs trembling.......

The Most Painful Rejection Ever

Invigorating like a breath of fresh air that blew through an open window. Heartbeat shaky from nervousness as the convo flows like warm blood through your veins. Long lashes flutter, dirty thoughts through your mind. Lips pucker up, hold wine glass to your throat. But he still won't bite. Move slowly. Hips swish along with the knee length ruche dress you wear. He mentioned his favorite color. Blue. So you wore a blue dress. Stilettoes tap tap across the floor. All eyes on you. Except for his. You talk. You submit to his conversation. Whatever he likes you show interest. Whatever you like. He questions. You offer a night cap. He doesn't bite. You don't know why. You suck on a mint. Check your makeup. Your hair. You're perfect. But not in his eyes. Maybe your not his type. Or.....A young man walks through the restaurant doors. Young. Ripe. Boyish face. Innocent eyes. His eyes lands on the boy's lucious ripe mouth. past his chin and settles on his love below. Now you know. You politely ask for the check. Pay your half of the bill. And excuse yourself.

Set Us Free

We have been set free in literal terms...No we do not wake up at the crack of dawn each morning, faced with a breakfast of scraps the master and his family did not want. A breakfast of pig intestines, pig ears, pork fat and watery grits. No we did not walk out to the fields with handmade shoes flapping off of our feet, nor are we walking into fields in the blistering hot sun, barefoot. No we are not picking cotton until our fingers bleed. No we are not working hunched over with our children strapped to our backs, hot sun burning their faces. But we are still not free.
  We are belittled each and everyday, by a new opinion, hypothesis, independent variable, dependent variable. Last year we were told we couldn't keep a man, that men did not want us. They told us that men of our own race couldn't stand us. This year we are told that we are unattractive. That our features are a curse, and that we ranked low. We are being told each and everyday that we are worthless.
 We relax our hair we are laughed at. We wear it kinky we are frowned at. We wear a weave, we are considered tacky. We grow our hair long, we are judged by our appearance. We wear our hair short and cropped, we are stereostyped. If we are light skinned, we are used for our looks. If we are dark skinned we are put down for our looks. If we are thin we don't have enough ass and breasts for you. If we are curvy we are too big for you. What do you want us to do? Our beauty is so exotic, so different, you can't catch up to it. You can't even define it. So you tear down what you don't understand. It is frustrating isn't it? Now black men have gone weak with influence, because now they don't even want us. According to them, we are too independent. Too needy. Too strong. Too weak. Our standards are too low. Our standards are too high. Not submissive enough. Too submissive. Which one is it? You can't decipher it. Because we don't have the problem. You have the problem. Look in the mirror. Reach within yourself and you pull out the root that is causing you to hate yourself deep within, that you have to tear down your queens from the inside out.

Pillow Talk

What happend to us? When did our love's heart stop beating? When did it stop breathing? Your mental kisses have dried up, and your hugs have grown cold. We would lay in the bed for hours, and just talk. Although we never physically laid  next to one another, we still mentally held each other. Where did that memory go? I wanted this to last forever, and ever, ever....I don't believe in all good things coming to an end. If I speak it into existence it will never end, right? So why is this love we have not worth a fight? Oh, so you want to act like you don't feel the same way? I can act the same, but I don't live lies, and I am certainly not fraudulent about my feelings. I melt in your arms, sigh to your lips, my heart skip beats to your fingertips, running across my arms....I can't even began to explain....At first I felt betrayed, then sad, then I didn't care, then I started caring, and now I care. I thought it was me, thinking "maybe it's me" ....But then I realized it was never me, it was you. You all along. I don't believe in asking anyone to change. I learned that I am just too strong for you. But then again I'm not sorry.

Waiting in Vain...

Waiting for who? The right one? You will be waiting forever in vain. The right one is who you deem fit, not a soul mate or a person you're destined to spend the rest of your life with. Waiting for what? Waiting to just bump into a person on the street, he/she looks at you, you look at him/her and then smile, and you spend the rest of your life together? It doesn't work like that...At least, I don't think. Men out are out here approaching everyone who they think could be their soulmate. And women are thinking that any man that approaches them are their soulmate. Then when they find out they're not, everyone gets a broken heart. Just stop waiting. My life certainly isn't getting put on hold to wait and marry someone that I know is not my soulmate. I am one of a kind, so there is no one that complements me. It is more peaceful living alone, than living with some asshole who doesn't give a two rotten apples about your outlook on life. Make peace with the fact that you may die alone. You were born alone.

Freeze

Mind is blank, I can't think. I'm sitting on the rock, near the water's edge trying to piece together what has been pulled apart. Why is it that I never get chances handed to me, I think to myself. But I am wrong, maybe I never take chances at the opportunity. I'm trying to be open minded about certain circumstances but I am angry I can't change it. All things happen for a reason, but is it really that serious? The water ripples below, and I follow the pattern of the waves....I am still trying to understand my destiny. Why I am I here in this situation, right now, right here. What is the point? I say aloud to no one in particular. Am I cursed? No...I am blessed. Never cursed. But why do I feel ashamed? What can I do? I can only stay honest and truthful...Maybe...I don't know. I'm only human I feel what I feel, when I feel, how I feel. Do you feel me?

In The Rain

I'm standing here and thunder rumbles in the distance, and rain is falling hard. I have a decision to make, but I'm too scared to choose the decision I want. I'm not afraid of the person, I'm afraid of the aftermath. My clothes and my hair is drenched, and my breathing gets heavier. I'm looking at his outstretched hand, waiting for me to put my hand in his. I want to put my hand in his, and I want to follow his lead. He cocks his head to the side, as if he's trying to read me. My thoughts. My hesitance. I'm thinking about the aftermath. I'm cold. His embrace looks inviting. I put my hand in his and he pulls me close and wraps his arms around me. His shirt is wet, soaked, and he is cold. I shiver....He opens the car door and I sit in the car, exhausted, cried out, and weak. Too tired and weak to fight anymore, too cried out to cry anymore, sick of running. Time to play the game of fate, faith, and trust. I am scared silly, to put my heart in man's possession....But I have done it before, and when it was handled carelessly, did I not get back up again? Did the pieces of my heart not fall back together again? So what makes this so different? In my mind I think I can't survive another heartbreak, but I know I can. But who wants to go through the motions of that? I'm sitting here weak and weary, exhausted from fighting and running from this man's love. And he just kept chasing me......I just kept running and now I am all run out. So here he has caught me in the rain. Standing here, rain falling all over me, soaking wet. Catching my death. I give up. I'm sitting here with him beside me in this car....And he says...."I promise you....I promise...You will not regret spending the rest of your life with me".

Don't Say It.

I can't help it, I tried to change but I can only be myself....I think it's artistic, and artsy and beautiful the way it is intertwined  I don't want to say the word, for fear that people might run and hide. I don't know why. Don't we procreate that way? But wait a minute. When we meet someone. Is that the first thing we thing we think about? I don't like just the act of it. I love the emotional part of it. When your heart beats together, your love for each other intensifies and electricity sparks off of each of you. I love that about it. It isn't everything, if feelings aren't involved. Feelings is that what makes it so creative, and so....What can I call it? I don't want to say that word either. I just don't want to scare people off. But why does this scare people off. Because people abuse it so much. It's a beautiful gift, and people don't know how to treat it. It's God's gift to mankind. Maybe I'm just a sap. I have a vivid imagination. I love to think about it. And write about it. Wait. I'm not a addict. Because addicts will go after anything. I hate when people abuse it. And it's meaningless. I'm sorry...I'm rambling. I love to kiss. But kissing is meaningless if there is no vibe there. I love exotic things. I love the rain. Remember the movie "The Notebook" when they kissed in the rain. I love that. I think it would have been more exotic with "color". If you get my drift. Holding hands, are good. Because the electricity of your attraction travels through the both of you. So when you kiss, the nerves in your lips ignite....Causing blood to flow below. If you get my drift. I won't say what I'm talking about. I don't want to lose my readers. They say it isn't everything. But it depends on how you cherish it. It is a gift from God. So cherish it. I'm still not going to say it.

Flustered

When he walked in my body heat rose to the top of my head, and I felt warmth on the bottom of my feet. My mouth became dry and I broke out into a light sweat. I became shy, and my mind started wondering trying to keep my eyes off of him. I began to fidget with my lipstick that just so happen to be in my hand at the time that he walked in. I just finished applying a coat to my lips when I heard the bell to the cafe chime, alerting a customer, regular or new. I looked back and boy was he a looker, that night. Relaxed fit jeans, a windbreaker jacket, and his motorcycle helmet. I don't know what got me riled up more; his freshly shaven head, his full shaped up beard, or the fact that he drove his motorcycle here. He turned his head, and his full lips curved in a sly smile as he looked straight at me and said "Hello." Oh my Gosh. He sipped his coffee and watched me for what seemed like five minutes. I looked away. Looked back. He is still looking. I smile at him. He smiles back. He finishes his coffee, puts it on the counter. He looks at me intently. He nods his head at me to come to him. As if I'm under a hypnotic spell, I float towards him. He takes my hand we go towards the back lounge. There's a record playing in the background. Maxwell. Fistful of Tears. He draws me close and we start to dance. Real slow. I feel his hand on the small of my back and his fingers are kneading the small of my back. Oh my. I feel as though I am dreaming. His lips, moist and full are showering my neck with little kisses.I am his. He has earned every inch of me. Paid in full.....We sway to the music and......"Maam. We are closing". I wake up. Im sitting at the table of the cafe...Where I dozed off...What a dream.

My Name is not Susan

MY love for you runs deep like the pacific ocean, over one thousand kilometers deep. So blue and so clear, my love for you professes with every heartbeat. But why must you hurt me? You blame me...For her past transgressions. Her lies....Her deceit. I show you everyday that is not what lies within me. I gave you me. All of me. And not in vain. I gave you my heart on a platter and because of her you are steadily spitting it back in my face. Look at me is it her you see? They say the eyes are the window to the soul, so you when you look in my eyes do you see hers? How can you confuse her with me when I show you and love on you constantly. Im tired. Im tired of paying for her mistakes. Im your present and I want to be your future. But I can't be consumed with being blended with her.

Would You Rather Me.....

Would you rather me straighten my hair? Put a super strong relaxer in it. Let it sit until festering sores popped up, but I would have a head full of lustrous straight strands. Hair you could "easily" play in? Would you rather me change my diet, from healthy to starving? So I can lose these dangerous curves, you look at privately, so you can show me off publicly? Baby, would you rather me finance plastic surgery? So I can fix this nose of mine. It's so flat, wide, and emberassing. And my lips.....So full, so voluptous.....so ethnic. You want me to buy some of that cake soap? To turn the notches of my skin tone, jut a little bit lighter??? No....Satan is a liar. I am as beautiful as the statue of Cleopatra, that sits in the museum in Egypt. I am as perfect as the first rose that sprouts in Spring. Tall, Venti cup of caramel latte that is tempting to sip from. Who's heart pumps blood, love for every color of the rainbow. Beautiful black king I bet you would have been better human. What kind of human being puts down one race ( that happens to be their own race) and uses other races (If it isnt black it's automatically the superior race) to forget about ones own race? You have hate in your blood? Runs deep through your veins, and secretly you pray to your God that you wake up another race.....

If You Seek Stacey (Written to the Luxurious beat)

You can find her on a beach in a bikini, drinking a virgin strawberry flavored martini. With a laptop in her lap and a flower in her hair. Red glossy lips, long lustrous lashes, a mini pocket bible, in her pocketbook how glamorous. You can find her at a dinner table, drinking water, with a fruit salad, smiling at the waitress because she know how hard she's had it. Gets up from the table and leaves a generous tip, thanking God for all of her blessings. You can find her strolling through rodeo drive, shopping endlessly. Manolo Blahniks, Chloe, Prada, Louis, Juicy...But passes her blessings selflessly. You can find her on her knees giving praise and praying keeping her eyes and ears, and mind on the only One who can give her perfect peace. If you seek Stacey you can find her in the front, close to the alter because she understands that prayers are always needed. She doesn't mind working for Christ, and her ministries multiply, and she can't seem to express how thankful she is. Her love for her Savior glows, and she just can't seem to get enough of His love.
If you seek Stacey you can find her driving with the top down, cruising through the streets. She knows her candy apple red Mercedes, is nothing short of a blessing, this is why she doesn't mind sowing seeds and tithing generously. She has worked so hard, praying, and now she gets blessed back. Stacey flies first class internationally in order to spread the gospel of Christ. The kind of life she lives is such a blessing, and she is thankful.....

Infection of the Green-Eyed Monster

I lost my bestie the other day, am I supposed to cry? When this silly gal straight told me that she wished that I would die.....That she never could stand me, nor my high maintenance ways. That she would have killed me a long time ago if crime didn't pay. She always hated my strength, my ability to bounce back, and the fact that I was the big bad bitch that she lacked.....Being me....Hot tempered, feisty, and not caring about feelings. My gloves came off, and I put the verbal blade in my mouth ready to draw emotional blood from her. Five years of friendship went out of the window, sisterhood went up in flames, and my heart pumped hatred. My friend became my enemy, my enemy...No....She was an enemy the whole time. Real friends don't throw daggers, and let deep dirty secrets spew from their lips like sewage and splatter your face with it........Maybe you didn't understand what I said the first time....I lost my bestie the other day, am I supposed to cry? When this silly gal straight told me that she wished that I would die.....Die? Die. Damn.....That green-eyed monster infected you, poisoned you, lied to you, got a hold of you. Because if you want what I have, you have to walk through my shoes, and go through what I've been through, and all I have been was a good person to you. How can you be envious of a heart, that pumps blood like yours do. All it took was a bloodline falling in love with me, for your true colors to show, so enviously. Now your whole family hates me, because of what has become of me. The stories you tell, you played the victim so gracefully......But trust me you could never affect me. I'm still me.

Remember Me

Intense dreams, of a locked king, separates me from reality....I wake up with wet lips from mysterious kisses, and passion marks on my chest from forbidden licks.....I wake up with one command, one demand, that let's me know this was no dream let alone a fantasized one night stand.  Remember Me. Deep, rich, masculine, strong....Pulls me in a trance, like a chanting song....Invisible hands stroke my face, a familiar touch shocks me still.....This can't be real. Remember Me. The warrior....The king....who was taken right in front of me. Reincarnation does not exist to me...Someone is playing a trick on me. But still as clear as Caribbean waters I hear...Remember me. I try to forget...Block it out, because he no longer exist. I saw him in the ground myself there is no way he could live again. Remember me. I'm wide awake...no longer dreaming so this is certainly reality. Invisible hands stroke my hair, my face, and plant kisses on my lips and whisper audibly...Remember me. A scream bubbles in my throat. Somethings touching me, but nothings there, I reach out but I feel is warm air. I'm in denial, but I know he's here. To reclaim what we left unfinished, he refuses to leave this earth in despair. I feel his sweet breath in my ear...Remember me. My breath catches in my throat, my heart beats fast, I want him to stop, but I don't want him to stop. But now he knows that I believe he's here. Now you remember me. He speaks clearly to me, and kisses me passionately...And he appears to me in the flesh. Yes. I remember. 

Letter to My Future Husband

God told me that there is somebody for everybody, and that every person on earth has a person especially made for them. So I know that when you were born, and you were growing from newborn to adolescence, from adolescent to a grown man that He was grooming, prepping you just for me. Now what I just said sounds so cliche, because every Christian I talked to or read about always say that about someone they just marry or they say this because they are single and they don't mind waiting. Is something wrong with this statement? No. But I have always stood out, so therefore I want to say something different. So I will break it down this way. You were grown just for me. A plant that was fertilized with just the right ingredients, seedling, and plant food to make sure that you are strong, and healthy and if you do have weeds, that's fine...Who doesn't? God will get rid of the weeds that are trying to choke you to death that prevents the anointing on your life from transpiring. But I need to apologize, because I have let men try to take your place. I have asked men to take your place, I have prayed for men to take your place. I have even searched for men to take your place, and let men put the idea in my mind that God told them to take your place. But each and every time those men tried to take your place, stood in your place, it backfired because....Hey! That was not their place. See I had to learn to be careful what I pray for....Because, of course you know, the devil is always watching, trying to listen....He also likes to see God's children hurt, and stressed  and depressed and on the brink of insanity. I'm going to be perfectly honest...I resented men of God who were deep in the ministry, because I thought that they were on their high horse, and wanted a perfect woman, with a perfect past, and a perfect mind, and a perfect personality, and a perfect upbringing. Because in my eyes that's what I saw. Needless to say, yeah, I was blind. So I wanted a rebellious man, who didn't care about religion, perfection, rejection...I wanted something different, spontaneous, and adventurous..Well that backfired because I got just what I secretly asked for. A man of another religion, which was to defy God, deny Christ, constantly lie, and I found myself on my back and my legs wide.  Love was just lust intertwined in my heart that caused confusion in my mind because I thought that I finally met my match, a man that truly loved me, wanted to marry me, who consoled me physically.....Long story short it blew up in my face, and I found myself hurt all over again, disappointed, and paranoid due to a pregnancy scare. So I will apologize again. Because to you, again I was being unfair. Patience is a virtue.....I remind myself all the time. I am not going to write an endless letter about my flaws, and how much I love you even though I never even met you...I am not going to write a long letter about how you fixed my broken heart and taught me to love again....Blah blah blah blah blah....Why should I give you credit for what God did for me....To prepare me for you? Because God gave you.....Me..I know as a gift...And He loves you so much, he will not give you something that is broken.... I'm not going to ask you to please understand me, because I know, you already do. 

When Color Fades Out

It's all good when your there, caring, sharing and wallowing in their despair. Tears drench your shirt as if you are singing in the rain and you don't mind that they are making you depressed with their sorrow. Words dance around thick tense air of comfort, and everything is going to be okays fill their heart with hope. You feel your fingers absentmindedly caress their back, and a maternal instinct you never knew existed takes a napkin and wipes their face. Your mind goes into overdrive with ideas on how to make the situation go away, their future brighter, and in your mind you squeeze in a prayer for them and make a mental note to pray later before bed. And a week later, like you faithfully knew it would everything is ok. 
Colors run across fake black and white coloring as if bleach was accidentally thrown in the wash. Your faith is tested, and everything crumbles around you, like brick buildings after an earthquake. You reach out, cry out for human physical contact to show you, at least tell you and try to make you believe everything is going to be ok. Color fades out when trouble walks in........The phone calls go unanswered, the visits stop short....Everybody fades to black when the tables are turned. And that is where you get your strength from.

My Affliction

This was not supposed to happen, This did not go according as planned. I was never supposed to feel this way. It seemed as though he dropped right out of the sky...He arrived right in front of me right out of thin air, mesmerized me. Enticed me. I fought against the feelings of lust, want and need, but you brought it back everytime you made a smile grew within me. Now you are my addiction, I can't shake you, stop seeing you, and I just can't stop you from touching me. I thought Jill Scott's description of her long, restless nights and sweet, sticky rendevous' was explicit, raw, and just too open. But just a month with you, I understand each and every syllable of the words she speak. You cross my mind day in and day out. At first, I thought it was quite amazing. How beautiful the music we would make. How sweet the sound. This has grown beyond addiction, you are now my affliction. You have taken over my mind, body, and Soul....Afflicting my eyes from seeing the real you, the damage you are doing to me...You tell me you love me. But I know that's not true. You love the things I do to you...No...Not me...You just love this pussy....Cat got you trapped...But you got me open. Tongue tied twisted up, you keep my heart flowing....With what I thought was love...But it was just lust...I have to let you go, because I deserve more, and guilt eats at my heart each hour, minute, second, that I am with you...So we should just....Stop....But you keep calling me, leaving me sensual, masculine, beautiful voicemails professing how deep your love goes for me, how bad you need to taste me, how beautifully naked I am to you. I can't even delete them. My second heartbeat throbs from beneath me. All I can do is get down on my knees, close my eyes and put my hands together humbly. If you understand, and got me please pray for me.. *SIGH*

You Just Testified on What?

Maybe it's me, maybe I'm being insensitive, or not understanding. Maybe I'm being childish with this, and I am the one that is closeminded. But a lot of people do not know what the word "Testify" means. Either that. Or they are using the word too loosely, or just to describe how their day went. To me...When you testify. You give a transparent testimony of something so deep, so traumatizing....Like a lake of blood and mud and other fluids that you had to swam through but hardly made it out of without losing your mind, pride, and soul. To me a testimony is when you testify about an event that happend in your life that makes people want to look at their lives that they have been complaining, and boasting and bragging about and just stay humble, stay faithful and stay prayed up. I never hear testimonies like that anymore. Everybody wants to sugarcoat everything about what happend in their lives. Nobody wants to tell the truth nowadays. Oh we tell the truth. But we don't tell the full, no holds barred truth. Oh. But as soon as someone comes out with a full, raw, rare, testimony everybody is looking at him/her like they are beneath their shoe. You know what the testimonies I'm hearing nowadays? Heres an example: Today I have a testimony, I had eight hundred dollars in my account and now I have fifteen hundred dollars in my account because I work hard, and I stay grinding." This is one example. Here is another example: I didnt have any gas in my car, so I asked some friends and they gave me gas money to borrow". These aren't testimonies. This is saying that God is good. You got a blessing through people. The first example I typed above, they didn't even acknowledge God. "TEST" "TESTIMONY". Am I the only one that is brave enough to tell the raw details without leaving nothing out of my life story? What are you afraid of? Why are people afraid of what people may think? We are not HERE for other people. We are HERE, to do what God has placed us here to do. Eat, Pray, Love, and more and more and more. Right?

Seasonal Relationships

In winter, Billy is in love with Kelly. Billy can't live without her. Kelly keeps him warm at night, like a heated blanket, wool blanket knitted just right...Kelly believes this is a dream come true....Her knight in shining armor has finally galloped through. They are attached at the hip, always together, they both seem to can not imagine one without the other. But as the days grow warmer and the nights grow shorter. Billy begins to change and starts to act less fond of her. Kelly is confused and questions herself, whenever she tries to make plans with him, he has no time left. The women that he sees walking half naked on the streets, trying to keep cool from the sweltering heat. The humidity of spring and summer weather arouse the pheromones from within. Creating a scent that is invisible to Kelly but obvious to Billy. So Billy wants to follow the scent of exciting promiscuity, not caring about the feelings of Kelly. Because now Kelly is boring. Real men don't change with the seasons. They stay the same.

I Woke Up Scared Straight

Ok...So...No Poetry tonight. I have to speak about this message I got from God Himself last night/early morning. I have been tripping lately, I am going to admit that. I have been partying non stop. Drinking a lot. My whole spring break I was so faded I can barely remember how I spent it. All I know is that it went by way too fast. St.Patrick's Day I got so drunk I woke up throwing up pure alcohol all over the place. I started asking myself "Tanisha, What the fuck are you even here for?" I felt like I was just taking up space on earth. I haven't felt God near me in months, I was sick of going to church, not feeling anything. Sick of smiling, sick of faking. I felt good when I drank. I got a rush off of drinking. I was jealous of people who had a close relationship with God, and put it in mind that they thought they were better than me. I went so far as to get drunk and sent a derogatory message to one of them just to emberass them. I became depressed....So I dared myself to do the what you might think the unthinkable. I got really drunk last night.....I was faded. But I was like forget it. I drove out to the pier late last night....Like early morning. I stood on the bridge, I stood directly on the railing and dared myself to jump. I just stood there....Looking into the black, abyss, called water. It looked like one big black hole. Just ready to swallow me up. I just stood there for like ten minutes, trying to psych myself into jumping. And then I stepped down, got in the car. And left.
  I went back home, laid across the couch, and went to sleep. When I woke up I was in the car, it was me and a young lady I went to middle school with. I was driving and we were talking, we were going over the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel. All of a sudden on both sides, the water rose, and rose and rose. Like a big wave. I drove faster, and faster, the water we were shouting for Jesus to please stop the water. For God to help. The water washed over us and next thing I know I was drowning, I was drowning. Next. I was sitting on the bridge. God's voice said "You have forgotten who I am". "You Forgot About Me". Next thing I know I'm back on the couch unable to move. I was so confused as to how I even got from here to there and back again. I fell asleep and woke up. I got in contact with the lady who was in the car with me, I told her what I dreamed. We talked a little after that, but she told me to stay in contact with her.
   I now know I'm here for a reason, though I don't know what. Yes, I do have pain on the inside from what happend to me in my past. And I know some people are like "Get over it!" or "Grow Up!". But what do you do if you try to get over it, time and time again and it the mountain gets too hard to get over. God is a mysterious, God but I know he lets things happen in our life for a valid reason. I'm not going to lie, I got so frustrated with Him. I just want to know why me? I always question what did I do for this stuff to happen to me? I just wanna know....

When it's Drained out....

Love is an entrapment of emotions that you have no control with. So when you are deeply in love with a person, whose love for you is all drained out....What exactly do you do? They won't say it but they're actions are speaking it through sign language. A language only they can act out....Of course they won't speak it...But they will subconsciously act on it. What do you do when the once wet kisses you received in the midday hour just for being beautiful turn into dry pecks on the cheek just because it was an automatic gesture before walking out in the morning. What do you do, when the sleepless endless  nights of lovemaking turn into excuses of being too tired to even accept a back massage from you? How do you react when he makes excuses for dinner dates that you create...Making all of his favorites? Claiming he will be home from work late? His love is all drained out. So what do you do???

The Urge to Steal Candy

I have this urge to steal, though I'm not a klepto. But have you ever wanted something so bad you could taste it. Melts in your mouth, and  has you chocolate wasted. This time I want to be caramel wasted. Consumed in sweetness, sticky with a sugar high so sick I'm enebriated. Hyper when that sticky sweetness liquidate into my system. I wonder if that sweet butterscotch would harden when the heat hits it. My heart beats fast, my stomach flip flops, just when I know I'm game for a taste, that chance vaporizes in thin air, and fades away. I'm mad, I'm pouty, I'm jealous, I know I'm good for it. So why waste my time and deny me of it. I want that candy, my favorite candy, just give it to me, before I take it. I know I can get it. Don't test me, I'm adamant. Last warning.....You know you are just going to let it sit there and spoil. I can't let all that sweetness go to waste. So why not just wrap it up in tin foil....and bring it to me.....

You are a Centerfold regardless.

You are a centerfold, no matter what your shape is, what your height is or what complexion your skin is. You are beautiful. Don't you understand what you see on the magazines are airbrushed and photoshop software. Don't hurt or kill yourself trying to be something you already are. If we all walked around looking alike, there would be some unhappy men and some angry women walking around. This world would be so boring. Stop injecting yourselves with chemicals to make your assets bigger, just to get the attention of  a superficial man. Or just to sell yourself out to model for an urban magazine that is only put on the shelves so men can ogle at your parts that should be hidden. But those mags collect dust on the shelves anyway. Men walk in skim through them, see what they want to see and put it back. The real magazines like "Essence" or "Ebony" or perhaps Elle place women of all colors, shapes, and sizes on their covers. So don't sell your body to the highest bidder. Once you love yourself from the inside, it will shine on the outside. You don't have to wear tight clothes to gain the attention of a good man. Give him something to guess at. That is what a real man likes.
  You want to cut your hair, but too afraid of what people may say? Who cares. do what's best for you, what's healthy for you. At the end of the day, people are going to talk about you anyway. They talk about you, whether your hair is short to your scalp, to your shoulders, or down your back. Just be you. It is funny. Women were dying, starving themselves to be thin. Now they are dying injecting themselves trying to make certain body parts bigger. Wow.  For what? Just for attention. We are all centerfolds. You don't have to have the approval of a modeling agency, or a photographer to tell you that you are model, playboy material. You already are that whether you are a size eight, eighteen, or twenty-eight.

In Need of The Holy Spirit

Im just trying to make it to heaven each day, You come closer with each minute that is taken away. I know I'm not as deep within the word as I should be. Please have patience with me, and teach me.... How to love, learn and submit with ease. Last night, I saw the big red orange moon, it was closer to earth than it has ever been. I took that as a sign and said to you "Lord have mercy on me please." Everyone says it's a process, it takes time, I need to study, I need to be more open. Here I am on my knees. I feel like I am a big disappointment..... As if  I was put here on earth as a mistake, a curse, I keep screwing up, I keep letting you down...Even after that dream I had of you telling me..."Youre my princess, wear your crown". I need the holy spirit, I'm begging you to please fill me up,  my prayers are as if I am holding out a cup...In my hand, because I need it to overflow with not just blessings, but spiritual gifts, and with praise. Satan is on my back like never before, and to be honest I don't feel you near me. I need you near me, beside me, in my heart, in my mind....Eacb night I pray for you to forgive me of everything, and to fill me up, God. I feel weird, each church I go to...Everybody is dancing and crying, and screaming but I don't feel that intensity they are feeling. And I beg for it so much. So Lord I ask you to please fill me up.

Before you assume that I am a angry bitter bitch, with too much time on my hands who is in need of a long, aggressive dick, look in the mirror and peel back layers of your skin. Not your physical skin, but the skin of your past. See, once you peel those layers I can see what happened to you way far back. I see scars on the inside, that makes you cringe just from smiling, and I see pain deep within your heart, you try to play hard, but game recognize game I can tell you're lying....About the struggles you have from within as a Christian, you may got those pure, never wear pants, skirt no shorter than their ankles, hair in a tight bun, virgin until marriage, young women in your church  fooled, but see my ears stay listening.To  the undertones of your masculine voice, demeanor and strength. But you can only cover your problems, and issues for a small length...Of time I will unwind you, unmask you, just because you tried me, assumed things about me, but worst of all you tried to judge me. Put me beneath the crown of Princess that my God placed on my head....But you are the same judgmental man who swam deep with me in lust. No. It got not farther than your dreams. But may I ask if that is the reason why you are mad at me? Because I happen to think that I deserve a ring. Because game recognize game and truth recognize truth and I as soon as you opened your mouth and words rolled off your tongue, I was on to you? Or is it because I speak my mind, my heart, my beliefs, hell, I speak the truth. I spoke it to you, women like me are very few. I believe you got scared, because you met that one woman that can tango with you. I showed you in more ways than one, that I needed a man like you. One that can keep me on my toes, have my back, stroke my face, and still scold me, and whenever I cross the line....Put me in my place. But you downgraded me from a Queen to a peasant, a peasant to a bird, a bird to...Well nothing. But I got you, I still pray for you, I still ask God to bless you.

Admiration

There is nothing like magnificence, magnified to the highest power the world can take. It is like each atom was carefully put in place, each neutron carefully strategically positioned just right.  Forgive me for staring I can't help it. I love how each cell is balanced just right to form the perfect being. I notice how your voice carries the perfect pitch. Your mind is an endless creation, with intellectual attributes pouring from it. I can't help but admire your laughter, it fills the whole room and it feels me up. I can't help but admire your thoughtfulness, it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Your strength stands out like an sore thumb amongst every other physically strong being in the room. I see your strength from the inside out, I want to feel it. I want to feel out your intelligence...Can we talk politics for hours, from deep into the night into bright into the morning. I love the way you put things into perspective. You can make a joke out of anything. I'm in pure admiration of how proud of a person you are. I sit and think and wonder how you would react in certain situations. You can't be that calm all the time. I admire the way you put your mental flaws out in front so openly. I can't help but to embrace it. Smile at it. The fact that you been through so much and still smile day to day as if nothing is wrong. I admire it so much. You are truly a gift from God.

The Barista

It smells like earth, sandalwood, and clay when I walk in. A mixture of  Bohemia, art, and music. The loose leaf herbal teas sit in small crystal jars on the counter, with the name of the blend written on white paper taped to the front. It's warm. I feel comfort against the outside cold. I walk up to the blackboard, different specialty coffees, herbal teas written in chalk. I can't make up my mind so I just stand there. I reach in the back of my mind, trying to remember the special ailments each herbal tea is good for.  A deep rich voice startle me out of my thought retrieval. I turn. He's black. Not black but the color of rich orange pekoe tea, that has one too many tea bags in the cup of hot water. He has a bald head, with little tufts of hair sticking straight up in a Mohawk. He smiles. It's pretty. Even white teeth. Not one speck of breakfast or lunch on them. He tells me I can smell the teas that are in the crystal jars. He says that have the tops of salt and pepper shakers on them. I thank him. Smile back shyly. I decide on chamomile. He puts the tea in a metal tea ball, he smiles again and tells me that he put enough tea leaves for two or more cups. If I want more  hot water, just ask. I smile shyly again. My face  grows hot. He steps from behind the counter, and for the first time I see his attire. I'm impressed. Jeans that are faded, worn, and torn at the knees with splatters of different paints on them. His shirt, which was once blue, or maybe black, is faded as well, with bleach spots, paints, marker blotches all over it. He is an artist. Which means he is spontaneous. Which means he isn't afraid to take risk. Which means he doesn't care.  I smell his scent. He smells like oranges, wax, paint, and a chemical I can't put my finger on. He smells like ambition. I sit at the small table by a bookshelf. I feel like a woman I read about. She had a crush on a baker. The baker baked an assortment of breads and she "Ate half her weight in pastry" and "had the jitters from drinking too much coffee". Just so she could stop in watch, and mentally embrace the baker.  I suddenly felt the urge for something sweet to eat.

STREAKS OF RED

Everywhere I go, everything I touch, everything I speak of, leaves traces of my past. I leave red traces of me, like lipstick on a champagne flute. It never stops. It's like the scent of sin is on me. Sins of a sister, blood traces of a mother.  I try to wipe it away, but like paint it stays. I try to fight it, but I can't. I can't help who I am. I can't help who I am. Like a broken record it repeats in my head. But like red paint it tells it all. The other species don't want me. But the one in the same accepts me. Just the way I am. Affection covers me, like the warmth of a blanket on a baby. I can't help but to surrender.

How Far Am I Supposed to Go? (Written to the "Motivation" Instrumental)

I can't help staring in your face. I can't help looking at your lips. I can't help looking at your hair. I can't stop here. I have to go all the way. I can't help but to imagine you and me. Do I stop here? Or do I keep going? Do I stop talking? Or do I keep going. How far am I supposed to go? Or do I just stop right there? My mouth just took over, I can't stop now. I don't have a choice but keep going. I'm sorry for being so bold. I'm just telling you how I feel. I can't help if I let my heart speak. Both sets of my lips, is responding to you. I won't let you leave me. Until you know how I feel. How far am I supposed to go? Do I stop here? Or do I go farther.  I can't help but to touch you now. I can't stop myself from touching you. You want me to stop here? But I try. I can't. You stop my hands. As I'm explaining my actions.  How far am I supposed to go? Do you want me...To stop right here? Or should I continue? I don't want to overstep my bounds.....Words can't compare. How I feel here...In my heart. You couldn't compare....You like it, don't you. Yeah. I can tell. Has anyone poured it out like this? How far am I supposed to go? You want me to stop here? I can go allllll......I'm sorry I can't stop now.  I can't let it go, you have started me now. I need to continue, my heart can't stop now. How far am I supposed to go? I see you don't want me to stop.  I don't even want to. You love this, right? I need to release it. So now I will go as far as I need to.  Whatever, you know you can't handle this. You can barely hold your composure. But I need to stop. Oh, don't interrupt. You can't stop me. Until my heart is empty. You have no control.

REjection

Silence creeps around us like a thick black fog in the middle of a deserted highway. Unspoken words cling to the air, waiting, daring for one of us to speak. Tension is between us like a brick wall. We are standing in front of each of each other, but a million miles away. Mentally, we can speak to each other, just with our eyes because eyes are the window to the soul. So if our eyes are the window to the soul then we can just look at each other and speak without opening our mouths. So why is there so much silence. When you look at me I see darkness, an empty dark abyss full of cold, terror, and pain. I push forward light but you just throw it back, at  me like ball of horrific nightmares, you are trying to dim out my light that I forced to ignite, with your path of misery and loneliness. I tried to give you my light, but you snuff it out time and time again. I tried to give you shine, sun, and my starts but you reject every time. My heart ejects tranquil feelings from within but you dodge them everytime. Why my eyes don't show I need you. I dont know.