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Love,
Two (naive) names
Carved in bark
Gilded in my veins
Trees tying roots
and lifting concrete
A twisted ring
Caught between my fingers
Rubbing my scalp
Old and wrinkly
Thick binding
and soft pages
Pushing me forward
And having my back
Purposeful
Getting-on-my-nerves while
Locked in continents of conflict
Then
Wondering if the sun
Gets jealous of your light.

Weary

I want to
be flung open,
not broken
into
be
Pealed back,
not bitten.
Collected,
not picked apart.
Inscribed,
not written.
Fall,
not trip.

Split Ends

His yes was a maybe
my no was a sometimes
always walking on different sides
of the same lie

She'll pull the earth from under you

She was made from war and peace
silence and screams
you can buy gold with her dreams
her words are erect
they break down barriers
and build up walls
depending on the shade
of her lips
today they are crimson
and she'll rip yours open
her kisses are stolen
you will ask her
where she is from
and if there are more

Hold Still

"Hold still"
Pried open and painted over
black lacquer and white letters
in bold
too big font
only for the near sighted and
blind
they say love is
slightly raised on the surface
that's why you always
have the urge
to touch

Mor(fiend)

I have been beaten
torn into tiny pieces
thrown in the air
to celebrate his independence.

I have crushed him
with my fists
sprinkled bits
in my tea
and sipped slowly.

Waiting pool

Shallowly in love
with someone who is just
knee deep in infatuation

Son

Sitting by the light
Wondering if the sun gets jealous sometimes

Fin

The space between us feels solid.

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After he broke in
I asked him,
now how many me's
have you met
and left
when she was right
you were just like the rest
I heard none
when he said
one or two
he whispered his warnings
on my lips
but I didn't listen
I melted them in my tea
the shit has never been so sweet
gluttonous sipping
stirring the liquor with my finger
he tasted like crystallized ginger
we walked along our history
trying not fall into the folds
of our memories
and I never liked holding hands
but I smothered my pen
in his palm
gripped soft grain
searched his skin for scars
asked the lines when they were drawn
crossed them
kissed his calluses
buried deeper in those spaces
between fingers
because that's where I keep my secrets
and now I have
monotone minutes
wine soaked laughs
crumpled canvases
and a bolted door
he left open

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How many mes have you met
and left
when she was right
you were just
like the rest

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Broken glasses and perforated boundaries
wine soaked laughs
crumpled canvases
running past the past
like a bullet from the barrel of a shot gun
getting caught

Buy my book

Here ---> blurb.com Search Pretty for a Black Girl. order. read. love

I Don't Like Holding Hands

I never liked holding hands
smothering my pen
in his palm
My fingertips would grip soft grain
search your skin for scars
ask the lines when they were drawn
cross them
kiss your calluses
bury deeper in those spaces
between fingers
because that's where I keep my secrets

Fracture

Scripted stones
have somehow found their way
to my collar bone
where your lips use to lie
from time to time

Bob

Bob Marley was made for mornings
For that slit between evening and dawn.
Like lash and lid, lifted.
I feel around in the soft dark
And find him--

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Crystallized commas
hold on to this moment
"you promise?"
before I dropped it
in a sea of lost lovers
and found
that you should find out
if you can fit
before you try to squeeze your heart in
you were always told
that it was too big

Sweetea

I melted your kiss
and put it in me tea
this shit has never been so sweet

This poem isn't about my boyfriend

His kisses were collected
and put in a mason jar
for later

Pill

I dissolved your pill
in my wine
and chugged it