I had someone who asked me to bare my truth for them in the south, so I read them my poetry, they listened, looked at me and asked why my words feel so sad, I could cry the amount of fight I give my narrative isn’t always this depressing I proclaim my innocence feeling my voice disappear at the very pit of my throat how was I meant to tell a starnger these kinds of truths are hidden meanings of how I survive, I’ve always been scared away from bad first impressions and how we first show love physically, my kin tell me biography of love, I tell them, this is exactly how it should be held and we fall in love all over again, see, when the heart is loved backwords it catches up clearly to the mind, gestrures and glances are not so overseen as heartbeats may think, we women of both rain and fire are a parade of intuition you will attempt to ghost wrongs can’t help put in check the smoke that has been done, cupid can have this cloute too, we women are blessed with sight that could split you two even halfs of each attempt you chose I gave you a chance, my silence for the truth, your silence for my freedom how does it feel you choose your sugar cane once, twice dare three times, a vision has never been such a clear momentum we’re soft worriors survivours of heartbeats when we become sweet for you enough to cavity us both, be careful with her boasting crown, she can very quickly choose you not even a memory, forgotten, like you did not exist in her path to begin there are no more suicides left in vain of your name, let this be truth for loyalty you never really wanted her you chasing sight and whip lashed necks of other crowns while she was searching for your hand, she was right there, take note, just because I do not speak everything I see, how careless, you’ve lost to a silent mind
I want to tell the truth, want flowers to know that I loved them enough to know what this looked like, didn’t want them to see me in a light that was not a mirrored version of myself, this is not about me, this is the aftermath and before the truth, when you look at glances of yourself and flowers what is the difference between the mirror and yourself, you tell your words this kind of hope deserves the truth, if they represent a type of love and care that is most like its self-educated nurture they are royalty enough and you’re not to hold back the truth, when you light them up, watch their eyes soften in the glow of your warmth this is enough, when they touch your hands and never want to let go this is enough, when they show you their demons this is enough, you’re not to hide, when you find your words unable to come out, sweat in your palms like you’re holding all the waters in this earth, when all you can do is cry enough oceans, swear you never meant it to be this way and that they were the one, when you catch your breath, tell flower the truth, tell heartbeat, that you hope they know how much this feeling will never leave, that you will understand and respect their decision even if your heart breaks right in front of them, ask the sea to love you back when you have given your heart to heartbeat, tell the ocean you love him enough to cry oceans for him.
These nights I find my sleep has not changed, my problem has always been the difference between my remedy telling me that it could be my personality and not this illness, sometimes I get confused, I remember my heart broke somewhere between your personality and this illness I can’t remember which part took its own life first, I’m kept awake by the problems with myself that I can not seem to fix that stay with my breath and follow me into bad decisions and lost words that are careless and still know how to break even when they come from kin, you can still taste salt, you forgot why you thought elsewhere in the first place, these things just come out you’re looking for help and guidance most a mouth to band-aid them too, sometimes its so hard to stay soft when you’re this ill and lost, there is no beginning or end, it’s a mix up, a false habit you’re trying to erase out of your system these decisions are still plaguing the body and you’re trying to find the correct outlets but your body just will not survive so you give it what it wants even though you know it will hurt you, you become this light that trusts so tirelessly when you see a temptation a way out, and after all this, you’re are left with its echoing words of what you keep telling this body over and over again, what does self-respect look like when you’re ill and stop being 10g away, how do you get your super powers back when you’re watching a wreckage smoke from the inside, how do you save yourself, what does that look like from inside the burning building, you’re a metaphor for yourself how you excuse these decisions, swear you never meant to hurt the body this way, swear you will not do it again but where does it end where do you stop, where does this kind of harm end for you, have you given up, if not what now, what’s next for a girl who has lived until 23, writes from her bedroom window, cries her own love song, doesn’t change her mistakes, and is trying to survive her mind, what happens now, how does she not give up-. What is your answer? What would you tell her?
im i crazy to call identity love.
A self-proclaimed psychosis narration of formatted words to meditate the mind, and at ease the body when bad days are uncontrollably unpredictable and after your blood, breathe, emotion of space that moves within the body is to exhale this frustration of uncomfort attempt to sit with its unjust child like, like adulthood manifested trauma, crazy, another word that is meant for you but is misplaced in connotations, boundaries, and this mental, discomfort, is to sit with it, to watch your own unsolved chaos a black super woman animated hero, like woman like survivor, selflove, you, what is yours, selfcare, you, a super power, irritable irrational behaviors that maneuver in and out of this body like permission to self, like it was normal, what is normal anyway, self, who do I see myself as when and without this state of mind, an actual metaphor of this is the rain, a contradiction of identity and misplaced answers that hit this heavy are to never be forgotten, identity, notice how quick you’re to save your name next to love, identity has always been love, others, there are no others, they are my precious heartbeats each pulse is remembered into my being this way, relationships remind me of flowers in the spring, and the rain, three of my favorite human languages this, its no secret now, habits, loving harder is to admit its self in and out of me these heartstrings are internal external loves, fixing our broken hearts for the sake of our identity, souls, are both in complicated super power love and care, heartbeats is compassionate black super woman a pulsed warning of heartstrings words aimed like identity, self, relationships, always this, it is no secret now, a psychosis narrated formatted words to meditate the mind and at ease the body, when bad days are uncontrollably unpredictable and after you always, always this goes back to love-, lullaby. black woman. identity. heartbeats. and maybe heartstring now too.
its nearly spring.
I’ve always seen myself in different lives, thought about how I could really make a difference in my own way, I’ve thought about what are the chances that we all get into a state of mind that motions our existence how we like to see ourselves how we really see ourselves I think its important to not take opinions that even from our purest depths that choose to eat at this body in sorts of manifestations that are not in correlation of present but past tense and unarmed sometimes, I think balance is a solution to a lot of outcomes, when I think of the narrative surrounding identity its forever entwining with my variables, I’ve learnt that I don’t always have to be strong and who I am is not afraid but has uncanny behaviour that revolves around making kin and those close by my breath feel unbothered by breakdowns that I forget my own body in this space, it had been so long I keep almost forgetting what its like sometimes, when you have tendencies to be cold because you do not understand your own mental you’re practising what its like to be okay forgetting that you’re are an emotionally intelligent being and yes that sometimes means that your smile, your eyes will not match your words but you will still try because you care about how you make kin feel in this presence, you’re trying to break away from the mind and be present, what a contradiction, a life you’re living that is both complicated and compassionate in the same body-, a breakdown. for who. the rain.
8.10.18 | Fall.
Sky in, a type of kin that will make even you beg for more, whispers of favourites turn the flame on, I let the words curve into my mouth this way, what I’m trying to say is still unfinished and coded, it sounds a lot like unspoken verbs, pronoun of this is the heart, the adjective is the way the mind is feeling but too scared of its truth only, we have never done things this way before, our words are backwards and on purpose, how do we make sense of all this heat, what happens when both passion and tension sweeten the tongue, how do we tame ourselves out of these flames, so carefully careless we could set everything on fire the way we like this feeling to be this talented, watch the way it has taken over a body that shares the words care and love with self, when she lets you in be carefully honest with everything, she is both blind and bright in the same notion.
Something like a few hours, and I’m so carelessly lost in a warmly lit room, I’ve set the air free to desire, I can’t resist falling into my own body, I close my eyes, lay on the bed, my arms across the sheets, I listen to the soft song I’ve put on reply, touch my skin, smile, I’m thinking about how warm and addictive this feeling is, want it to stay, I open my eyes softly brake into a familiar tune along with the replay button, then I, turn my rhythm to the wide full-length mirror gazed at me, I looked up at her naked, paused, when was the last time I saw this kind of happiness, I try not to guess too hard, can’t help stare in awe of its expressions, my mind has already lovingly grabbed at my sides pulling me closer, I smile a little, tease all angles and continue to love my body like this.
19.9.18 | my lover letter
love me harder, I mimic those close to my heartbeat so I can speak their love language too, I invite their souls into my heart tell them, thier hearts are safe here and their mind is free to wonder in my presence I will make them feel light too, I smile so hard at the things that make me the most unhappy because this is a beauty mark I have learnt as a child too, I walk on moondust because I do not feel safe here, my mind is a safe space even though it never lets me rest its thoughts we are constantly in melody of each other about how to love and care for this body the best way we know how, my heart is like spring, if you pay attention to me I am yours until you stop trying, my body has leanrt to hold back and not allow for unworthy heartbeats to form thier presence even when the heart has already mistaken kindness for a pulse, we are not afraid to love but we’re afraid to break into two even halfs, people say we are strong this way too because we have taught the heart what it means to be both fragile and agile in the same beat, this is the best thing we do, when I am not in love, I think about its meaning and rearrange its concerlatons with differnt outcomes and reasons for its ache we’re never safe from its warmth, I tell souls close to me to always choose love but be warry if its teachings, I am not an expert on love just a girl with purple hair who writes crazy love stories to her own warmth; I wonder who will be next.
A home, been paying attention to the way you respond to my lessons, there is no type that have made it this far, I tell my kin to be careful with the way they swallow my words even I am learning, we talk about love and she tells me this is the first time, I know how she must be feeling, when you come this close you become a puddle of clichés, a mirrored glass of what you want to see even if it must mean the half untruths, love does this, she is high off his scent and I can see his spells lovesick out her mouth this way, talks about how unreal this must be, and I watch her happy like it were the night sky filled with moonlight, she asks me what to do with her heart and I tell her to be strong, love is a beautiful ache and if you choose to love, you must also be ready for its infinite charm, and she asks me, what happens, when heartbeat loves two people distance is a battle, and love is bitter sweet war, I fear for her heart, she asks again, what does it mean for love then, I look at her, she sinks into the car seat, the sky chimes rain down on the car as she turns the heater back on, I sink into my seat watching the rain, and I say nothing.
16.8.18 | more than..
Heart-beat, an alternitive universe you go into your body, ask the heart connected fix me ways to find out why you keep going back to his type of love, know very well how he has learnt and unlearnt to memorize you, how he told you he wants to learn what goes on in your mind first, that he wants to know your attention before he gets too close to your body, you can see he is confused about what you show him and he is trying to hide it, you, are trying to hide, that you could fall this hard and not want to get back up, he told me we belong together and I wanted to ask him what he means by that, wanted to kiss the words out of him over and over and over again, he is so soft and so much fire I melt into his words like this, when I close my eyes, he is all I see, makes me light up just for him, I want to tell him I want to be his and his alone twice, he knows now, I imagine telling him this home is his too now, even when he walks away he is still misplaced into my whole heart, he knows how intense I can be while he watches me call on his name, he never misses my calls, makes sure he calls back if not all the time, doesn’t know I can see through him, that when you have observed lover this way there is no easily going back for you, he talks about future as though it were right there and you beam his words, think he has never looked this suductive, you’re also learning about his type of venerable, you also thinking this is the most sultry way about his presence, leave the way he makes you feel like there is no one is this world that could compare, waiting for his dial is like clock work, the perfect amount of space and fire, you could also call this love but, he says I am stubborn, so my pride is now at its highest submission.