Swim

All she wanted was to swim freely and comfortably without stress or the fear of impending tears to moisten dry skin chafed from waring with life. To be able to wake and welcome the rising sun with a heart not full of malice or contentment. She wanted life to be what she'd waited for it to be; she needed it to be worth the wait. Her days were long and the strength she put into them just to make it out stressed her already aching back like a mother pushing her child into a life she'd spend forever protecting him from. The crows who visited on yester days left their mark at the vertices of her gently worn chestnut brown lids. The struggle for her, by all means, was and is real. There is no escaping it and even if it were, she wouldn't because she recognizes the beauty in life's hard times.

The Good Guys

When we're with other people, romantically and intimately, when feelings become involved and sincere, the worst thing is to be hurt. And when the hurt is repeated, the thought of doing it once again, hurts even more. I guess that's how the above post came about. 

She's one of my favorite writers and a dear friend though we haven't seen each other in years, but, eh, we keep in touch a la social media and our deep desire to be writers forever who lounge in cardigans with frumpy clothing as we get lost in our worlds. We just want to write and be happy while doing so.

But, we also both want and desire for a relationship that makes us cry because it's just that damn thorough. Not one that makes us cry because we're left so empty wanting the fullness what was promised versus what was actually delivered. 

One of life's sweetest gifts to us while venturing this Earth are relationships. And don't roll your eyes either - you know it's true. Relationships, companionship, and the love that eventually grows are some of life's beauties. Relationships are absolute beautiful beings when they work. They're the best things since sliced bread, since mind blowing, toe curling, breathtaking sex, since good music - take your pick - when the people functioning in and out of it, work and function together. 

But this is life, so we know more times than not, we not only hear the war stories of the heartbroken guy whose former love of his life is forever known as "The Whore" or the bitter gal who's convinced forever more that all men "Ain't Shit", but we're too sitting on the frontline, armored from head to toe, fighting this ongoing battle for love. 

It's not true that all good girls like bad boys. Just like it isn't true that all men want the video vixen resembling wife. A lot of us, whether we want to admit it or not, are OK with the everyday around the way girl or guy *que the LL Cool J classic*. But just because you're from around the way doesn't mean you have to conduct yourself as such. Right?

There's a million wrong ways to seek and find what we want out of a potential partner, a possible boo, a probable life partner. But, there aren't too many right ways to do it either. Just rolling with it is how we eventually handle the search.

But the search, sometimes, is daunting.
 Usually, in the end, it all works out. It all pans out the way we've wanted it to be all along - so long as we allow ourselves and those who we deal with, to be their natural selves while we push and advocate for them to be their best selves.

So the next time we venture out in search for the best missing link to ourselves, remember that if we want the good guy (or the good girl), we have to give them something to be good for. Just remember: originality goes farther than creating something that doesn't exist.

video reposted for entertainment. no rights owned.

Give Our Roses In the Present, as Presents

Embrace whatever your story is. Embrace it. Cherish it. Share it. 

We've all grown up together, in some way or fashion, some association or another. When we met, we were girls. And when we get together these days, it's as women.

The women above are my best, truest and only friends as we gathered to celebrate my mother and stepfather's nuptials; 1 is missing as we were awaiting the birth of my amazingly handsome but stubborn godson. It doesn't hit us how much time has passed or even how much we've grown and matured until we've gotten together like this, in this sort of capacity. Some of us weren't even in our teens when we met, but we were surely unaware of the lives we would lead as the years would progress. And furthermore, the crucial roles we would play in the lives of one another.

Thru the years, we've experienced a lot and much of it in the form of raw emotions that sometimes, have gone awry. From arguments that have served as roadblocks due to our immaturity and inability to communicate properly to learning what it means to allow one another to express ourselves without pushing our own beliefs and mindsets on another. It's all been about growth and ushering one another along on this journey.

I love these women. As they have truly surpassed being just friends, but, they're my sisters, they're family. They are who I go to when life does its own thing. They are who have wiped my tears, cheered me on, and offered shots in between. They've given me themselves with no questions asked and nothing required in return. And in that, their friendships further prove that the best things in life truly are free.

  

“The most called-upon prerequisite of a friend is an accessible ear.” -Maya Angelou

Knowing

She stood at her hotel window cloaked in a black waist length mink and a pair of black suede platform stilettos. She was feeling herself with freshly shaved legs and earlier in the day, visited her favorite nail salon. She'd bunned her hair into a lose pony-bun. She felt every bit of a woman because of how fresh she was - a mix between baby powder and peony. She stood at this hotel window that stood the height of the room, bare underneath, and waiting for his arrival. She stood, anticipating him burying his nose into her neck and inhaling deeply to take in every essence of her existence.

She stood at this window, with bare breasts pressed against the cold window's glass and let out the deepest of breathes of her life. Placing her left hand on the window, she stood and tossed herself into a daydream of their life forever. She imagined the ring being placed upon her finger as they continued to consume themselves into and onto one another. In the end, it'll all be worth it. 

But before she could imagine herself being a mother in this play world, she heard the bedroom doorknob turning. And slowly, she lifted her head off the window, grinning at her imprint as he walked over to her and as she watched him thru the window. Gently and breathtakingly, he pressed every bit of his six foot frame against her as he pressed his nose into her neck and rubbed against the same breasts that kissed the hotel window. No hello was needed nor was it necessary for her to turn around and greet him. 

He knew where he stood as did she. They were in this to win it. 

Traveling This Horizon

I sat on the horizon

amongst mermaids and sea urchins

lost sails and floating bottles

from last year's Independence Day

with skipping rocks that'd lost their way

and an emptiness all around

as I beckoned you to join me in the journey

for the search for forever,

for peace,

for something in life

that the city just can't provide.

At night I'd dance with the stars

and begged the Moon to let me see the world

as he does,

to see Italy, Dubai, and New York all at once-

to learn what it means

and what it feels like to lose myself

in what God's made.

But then in the morning,

with the rising of the sun

and setting of the great moon

as the waves settled and began to sway softly,

I found myself still on the horizon,

alone

realizing but no longer compromising

that there are moments in life

meant to be traveled with others

but then, there are those moments in life

meant to be traveled with ourselves.

may be LOVE.

There are no blinders that hinder her sight.
There are no walls caging her heart.
There are no shackles bounding her to then and its possibilities.
There are no memories to encompass her with guilt.

She has found something,
that may be LOVE.

He is easy and honest; intelligent and worthy.
He is sensual and sexual from toes curling and hands sliding
up, down, and around sheets to
arms grasping waists and fingers wrapping around one another
as they drift to sleep - together.
He is understanding and endearing
the way men are and boys don't know how to be.
He is the 15 minute conversations at 4am
easing her back to sleep
and the early morning good mornings
that make days wonderful.
He, to her, is right on time,
though he's been there all along.

She has found something,
that may be LOVE.

And with no expectations,
nor gripes,
she has reached a point of comfort
and anticipation,
a point where realism and dreams meet.
They have something that they're nurturing,
with no rush,
no date nor time - no deadline,
just emotions and feelings that are known,
and understood, 
that are respected and cradled carefully.

They have found something,

and it just may be LOVE.

Defining Moment

The feat was difficult
and emotionally raw;
it pulled plucked and pinched
at her heartstrings until tears formed
and attempted with their mightiest
bit of strength
to show themselves
while attempting to expose
a weakness that is unfounded in 
women like her.
She knew it was time
to put it on the table,
present it
and leave it there,
to allow it to form itself
into a being that she hoped (and prayed)
it was meant to become.
She knew it was time
to stop convincing herself
of what she had no proof of.
She knew it was time
to let what she allowed
to torture her thoughts
and invade her dreams
to come to a halt-
it was time,
to let him in
while destroying the fortresses
she'd created around herself.


And with a press of a button
a tightness in her chest
and tears pushing the shorelines
of her ducts
it had to be done
and was.


And in the end,
it was all worth it
and just want she'd always wanted.

No Good Samaritan

Shall you:
set fire,
not a drop of piss
to offer relief.
stomach empty,
curling and doubling over 
in sheer agonizing pain,
not a crumb from this plate
to ease your woes,
to moisten your insides,
or comfort your troubled spirit.
gasping for air
as your lungs kiss one another
seeking a piece of life
to avoid death's shrieking call-
to halt it's galloping hooves;
no, these lips shall not touch yours
to knock the dust off of this CPR.
insane in the medulla oblongata,
the chaise is out of commission
and the prescription pad,
is empty.


she,
in and full of love
gave life with her passion
and dedication in every waken
and sleeping moment.
she,
offered and gave
her heart that you took
and damn near sucked the life out of.
so no,
no good samaritan acts
or feats
on behalf of humanity
shall be exuded from this body.
she'll stand and watch you heave
and cry
just as you did her -
as she walks away
and doesn't dare look back.

Talking to Myself

we don't have this thing down pat yet, but damnit if we're not trying. amateurs working our best to be pros. but while we try to figure this game called life out, we're going to live life like everyday is our last and love til' the end...

The cards have not displayed perfect hands. Straight 21. A full house or every Ace in the deck. Yet you play and play and play.

The older I get, the more I become grateful and forever thankful for this life all because my God has been gracious enough to keep me here. And let me tell you something: because we are human beings, because warm blood sometimes flow thru cold bodies, does not give us the right nor does experience or skill give us the permission to decide or predict someone's life. And I say that to say this, 25 years ago, a 16 year old girl from the projects of Philadelphia delivered a baby girl, but was told to say goodbye because she had less than 24 hours to live - nearly twenty-five years ago. 

The baby girl was me.

No one knows yourself better or more than you, no matter how much others think they know, you're your best friend and dearest confidant next to the God you serve. Your plate is full and your struggles plenty, but somehow, you get thru these days and close your eyes at night knowing you were your best you, that, the you today is surely better than the you yesterday. A dreamer beyond what people may even know, we don't even want to take over the world, we just want to make a difference. We could care less about being rich, we want wealth, comfort, peace, and love.

Most people would have given up a long time ago. Your closet isn't necessarily filled with skeletons, but the emotions are plenty and some are tough, raw. But like its been said, you don't know a man (or woman) until you've walked a mile in their shoes. And a mile in your shoes is simply a mile full of eternal love.

I live for love. And nothing more. Nothing else. Love is why this blog even exists. Love of the English language. Love of the people in my life. Love of the art of writing. Self-love. Shared loved. Imagined love. Past loves. And new ones that haven't even been birthed yet. For me, love is indeed just that deep. I love love songs. Romance. Passion. Intimacy. The things that make your heart feel like it's skipped a beat and your toes cramp from curling so much, so hard. I, create scenarios in my mind of love. 

No, my life is not necessarily what or where I want it to be, but one thing for sure, and two for certain, it is where it's supposed to be. And for that, I'm grateful and forever indebited to my God for keeping me. I don't know where I'm headed, but I've spent enough time in my 25 years down to know that I'm headed up and no other place than that. I can say without a benefit of doubt, I truly love my life and I love, adore, and appreciate the people who share time, space, and energy with me in these days spent.

*****

Happy Birthday to My Bay-Bay

I claim him. He's mine. Forever more until the day my God allows us to cross paths again to mend my heart that's been broken since age 9. All I know of his death is that he died of a massive heart attack on the steps of a friend. The rest is history and to be quite frank, doesn't even matter. The family came to a consensus not to tell me about his death until after the service. They knew I'd loose my mind. Oddly enough, it wouldn't have mattered one way or another. But what about my heart? And mending it? Impossible feat.


I'd just seen him the night before his death. He kissed me goodnight. And when I woke up the next morning, a copy of Aladdin was laying on the bed. Yet another gift from Bay-Bay for his Nurl-Nurl.


Yea, that man, is all mine.


I don't write about him often because the tears flow with ease. And I don't talk about him. It's impossible for me to tell you just how much he meant and means to me without a snotty nose, red tear stricken eyes, and much heaving. 


February is a super hard month for me. February like holidays and family gatherings remind me that who I miss more than words or even these tears can explain, isn't here. Furthermore, it's our birthday month. He the 19th and I the 28th. The perfect Pisces pair.


At 7, he insisted on a birthday dinner at Red Lobster for me, with the family, for my first time. And I tell you, I was the happiest little girl watching the lobsters in the tank as he explained to me that those lobsters soon will be someones dinner. 


I pray that I make and have made him proud, because life has never been the same since he departed. My grandma yells at me to this day because I don't call her like I should. And I know I'm wrong, but he's not there. Someone else is there in my Bay-Bay's place. I should still hear his hearty, boisterous laugh in the background or the horrible cinematography from his Sci-Fi flicks. I remember spending summers and nearly every weekend with my grandparents riding around in his white van with the burgundy interior and blue U-Haul floor cover in the trunk. Uncomplicated and true, true love.


My ex use to yell when we argued that "No one will ever love you like me". No sir, no one will ever love me like my grandfather did. The only time I cried over him was he I knew I'd never walk into my grandmother's project home and see him stretched out in bed, or ever see his beret hats or white button up shirts stretched over his protruding belly. He, was love.


And the amount of tears and snot I've blown in his remembrance, I will and pray to the high heavens for another day with him. Just to tell him one more time how much I love him. I didn't know how to as a child, but I'm sure he died knowing that there was one little girl left behind, would grow up with a broken heart because he wasn't there, loved him more than what her childlike vocabulary could express.


This year makes 16 years. And there isn't a year that goes by that I don't acknowledge his birthday or day of death. But then there are the days between: Christmas, Thanksgiving, my birthday, rough days, good days - that I don't pray for the closure that now as an adult woman, I never received as a child girl. I know he's gone. And I know that he physically is not coming back. And I know, at least I feel as though he is OK. I saw him a dream a little over a year ago, first time in over 10 years I'd seen him in something other than pictures. And he sat wearing his blue beret hat and white buttonup shirt stretched tightly over his belly. I woke up sweating, walked into my living room, hoping and praying I'd see him there. But he wasn't.


My mother is getting married this summer and Lord knows, as joyous as the day will be, to look into the audience and not see his black face all dressed up glowing and full of love, it will be harder than what I can tell you. But we'll make it thru, because I know his spiritual presence will walk us down the aisle. 


Sunday is his birthday. I don't know how old he would've been. I just know I have to say happy birthday to the skies, thru my tears, and let him know that this now grown woman misses him just as much if not more than the girl child he left behind and that my love, to this day is unyielding and unmoving.