And I Said...

I didn't want to write poetry tonight.

But that phrase "Shit on my mind..."

Let's see where it takes us, shall we?

Baby I've got
some shit on my mind.
I'm aloof
far off
not talking much.
Because I've got shit on my mind.
Not a reflection on you

of you
of us.
Just me.
I remember saying that
none of this was personal but
it is.
Just not for you.
So chill.
I've just got some shit on my mind.

Hm...that was ok.



Shit. Mind. You. Can. Would. Talk.

I'm about to be sick of your shit.
I swear to God I'm on the path to losing my mind.
Too early in the morning for this nonsense. Can
you just chill? I know we need to talk
and I would
if it wasn't for you

and the way you're always talking

increasing amounts of shit.
Maybe instead of me yelling at you
we could get somewhere. Anywhere would
be better than here. Get back to me when you can.
I've got some shit on my mind.

I can't take
no more of this arguing shit.
We're supposed to be adults but we can't
even sit down together. You said you would
try to fix this mess but your
schedule does not permit. But I don't mind.

Just know though, that I've got other shit
going on. My world cannot
afford to revolve around what could
have been the one real. But I know you don't mind.
Heard about you taking
that yellow bitch to lunch. She can have you.

No, really. I don't mind.
Even take your time.
I've already had my talk
with you. You can
get your shit

on Thursday. I won't
be there but...
my new man will.

*pats self on back*

Interesting concept. Needs work.

But then again...who doesn't?


Me with...

shit on my mind.

Right now, I've got Jill Scott in my ears. I'm channeling her hard.

Singing and


I've got a whole lot of shit on my mind.

Grad school. Decided to push it back just one semester.

Was that shit smart?

I mean...in the grand scheme of things
it could only be better to wait right?
Wait until my test scores are better.
Until I feel more confident.
Until I really become the artist I say I am.

Yeah, I think so.

I thought I was in love again. Finally.

Key word: thought.

Or maybe I knew, and that's where the fear set in.

I knew all too well the feelings of anticipation and longing that he set into motion. I'm familiar with how it feels to be infatuated and to know it full well, but to love and raise it until it's become some full on crazy shit.

Conversely, I knew with the same wonderful familiarity the way it hurts when my infatuation is not his love. My infatuation is mine, and his like is his. Each doesn't know of the other's existence. Ultimately, the like goes away and the infatuation is revealed for what it is: smoke and what? Mirrors.

With the knowledge of the rapture that I caught myself in came the heaviest feeling of dread. Because my head, who thinks much more rationally than my heart, would not let me go. She only let me swim if I would wear the life preserver and the big orange vest full of foam padding to keep me afloat.

Thank God for her, and the life preservers.

For experience, wisdom, hurt, pain, aches, laughter, perception, love, infatuation, crushes, lies and truths and the shades of both.

I didn't feel like writing poetry tonight. I felt like writing prose.

Is that prose?

Yeah, I think so.

And all this happened in the span of...5 days.


I Wrote A Sestina.

I didn't want blue font today.

Anyway, I wrote a sestina. I love it.
It gave me yet another outlet for these bottled up feelings.
I could be completely honest with myself and with him about the whole thing, and when he asks me I can act like I don't know what he's talking about. It could have been anyone, right?
Could have been anyone.
And with that, I give you "A Chance With Love."

Every day I wake up and I want
to be in love.
I’ve spent so many years harboring hurt
though, that I’m deathly afraid to take this chance.
I find myself tearing
up at the realization of this nagging necessity.

The last time I thought I found love
it turned out to be the part of me that’s the neediest
rearing her ugly head. She was hurt
too when my life of wants
went unanswered. It was only chance
that she made me shed a tear.

After all these years, I’ve let the pain
create for me a personality. I would love
to be wanted.
But chances
taken in my past life made the idea of need
a very subjective thing.

You say you need
me but I don’t think I want
to be needed right now. My heart
can’t take any more chances.
Please don’t take it personal, love.
It’s not personal. I’m just fresh out of tears.

I’ve been torn
in these directions for a while. My fear of love
stems from my fear of drowning and the chance
that you won’t catch me if I fall. I just want
to be the one you need
but I know I’m inept at this and I couldn’t stand for you to be hurt.

Maybe we should just take this chance
together. We could dry each others’ tears
and put band-aids where it hurts.
If I’m to be honest with myself I must admit that I need
to be loved
by you. But my stubborn mind doesn’t want to.

For this chance at love,
I would sacrifice my wants for what I know I need.
Maybe even let you heal me where it hurts, and fix the tears in my heart.


Just some shit...

At the moment I feel like "I got looooooove...on my miiiiind..."

Every morning I wake up expecting someone else to be there.

All I can think about is what he feels like and if it's as good as I think it should be.

These feelings are the reason I avoided taking these steps for so long.

The energy it takes is insane.

I might even feel better if I wasn't wondering but had concrete answers instead.

Every time I talk to him I want to say "Hey baby. How was your day? I missed you today."

But I don't feel released to say it.

It's still much to soon.

I always want to just say "I love you!"

I wish I could tell him.

I want him to know that he's my one thing and I want to be his.

When everything else is falling apart I need him to be the one thing I cleave to, and I just wish that I had the strength and time and energy to be that thing for him.


This is cliche as fuck.


Blog Wars.

I was gonna say some shit, but it would have been SO self-centered.

Things are kind of insane at the moment.

My big mouth ass can't find the right words to convey what I want to say.

I feel like I'm getting the same speech again though.

You're not any of those cats, so you say.

Then you follow that with "those cats" type behavior.

How do you expect me to take that shit?

I can't take it for shit but face value, and face value is bull shit.

Granted, you aren't the one that created face value so maybe I should give you some credit but like... niggas have bad credit around here.

Up until now you haven't done shit to
earn more.

It's been a lot of talk and shit, and I gave credence to that, but what the fuck was I supposed to say?

I knew from the beginning though, that we are too strong for one another.

We can't both be hellbent on our own correctness, can we?

The shit becomes explosive.

Too much energy here.

Too much for both of us.

Two people that know how great we are individually.

We know what we want, and we have very high expectations of a mate.

It forces us to perform at this new altitude together, but it's wonderful up there.

Something's gotta give.

Not enough oxygen there, regardless of the beauty.

I guess I'll just go upstairs and make out with my new stilettos.

Green patent leather w/ a natural heel cup and a wood grain heel.

My grown girl shoes.

That's half the reason I spend all my money on material shit.

Clothes and shoes never hurt you, and if they do it's your own fault.


3 months later...

Sitting here thinking...
3 months away from my blog that I said
I was going to do every day.
Here I am growing and changing and not leaving a long enough trail behind me.

I just wrote a personal poem
for the first time since September.

School has had me so consumed that I haven't been able to get away into my words like I used to. But here I am now.

I just cried again.
Too many emotions running rampant at once.
But I don't know what to do with them.
I never get to really talk to anyone, and when I do I'm on the verge of tears already.
I have let life make me crazy.
At least I've let it try.
And now
it thinks it can.

I have a taste for some dressing and cranberry sauce.
I miss home.
My grown ass is homesick.

I miss myself.
Haven't really seen her around in a while.
She knows she's loved though.
I tell her every day when I
go to class and
read shit and
study and

deprive her of sleep for the betterment of our future.

What else is there?

How can one be so
deathly afraid of the one thing
she craves?
I recoil at the thought of
your touch
because I know it will reach
clear deep down into my
soul where
I don't even let myself go too often.
I hide from it and
pretend it's not what it is but in
reality I just
want to be in love and
love on you and
be loved on and then
live in that space
that I've been hiding from
with you and
show you everything that she's been keeping
in there.
And I want to tell you
all these things
every time I hear your voice.
I want to tell you
I love you.