Truth is

I am afraid my love will be too much for you
I'm afraid you you'll drown in the depths of my love
I'm afraid that as you lay on my chest and try to listen to my heart
the aroma of my bosom will be too overwhelming
I'm afraid your bones will be too fragile for the strength of my embrace
I'm afraid your ears will bleed because my woo will be too intense to hear
I'm afraid I'll scar your skin with my passion
I'm afraid I'm not being honest because the truth is
I'm afraid my love for you is too much for me to handle
I'm afraid I'll suffocate exhaling my passions and neglecting to inhale yours
The truth is loving you is the most terrifying experience of my life.

Goal

I don’t want to put a bandage on the world.
I want to perform open heart surgery on it
Dig deep into humanity’s aorta and unclog it of its greed, hatred and violence
And at its times of hopelessness and faint heartbeats,
I want to have the skills necessary to resuscitate it
When the world’s lungs are weak that it hurts to speak
I want to be able to breathe life back to it
I don’t want to put a bandage on the world
I want to heal it.

When The Cape Falls Off..

What happens when your hero turns their back on you?
When you’re nothing more than a past memory? A burden?
Perhaps there was no love there,
Perhaps obligation was their only motivation
Perhaps the love you thought you had was all a figment of your imagination
Perhaps unconditional had its conditions
Perhaps your dependency was too much, expectation too large
Perhaps their aspirations went too far
Perhaps they weren’t a hero at all.

What love means to me?

          Love isn't effortless. That is a lie. Love is work. Love is always a choice. A decision we make that says .... That person is worth our time & effort. A declaration of investment in a person because you believe they're worthy of it. It is not biological or chemical. It is conscious. It is faith.

Fear of a Future Mother

Every day I read the news my body cringes

My womb tightens with tension

Protecting the ovaries that would help create my yet unborn children

Every day I read the news my body cringes  

Thinking of all the fathers and mothers praying that it wasn’t their child

Being a cousin, daughter, a sister, a lover

A woman of color

That is more than enough pain, enough anxiety and trauma

Holding my hand to my stomach, I hope that by the time I’m ready the world is more loving to my children  

That they may love their mocha skin as much as I will teach my children to

That they may embrace their wavy, thick, rich hair when I style my children’s hair or let it run wild in a huge afro

That they recognize and marvel at their heritage and their resilient history as my children walk down the street with pride

But for now, I pray for all the fathers and mothers hoping that it wasn’t their child

For all the cousins, daughters, sisters, lovers

For all the men, and women of color

Haruki Murakami’s “Scheherazade”

"Life is strange, isn’t it? You can be totally entranced by something one minute, be willing to sacrifice everything to make it yours, but then a little time passes, or your perspective changes a bit, and all of a sudden you’re shocked at how its glow has faded."

Haruki Murakami’s “Scheherazade”

Dating Games

At first it’s this unspoken game of Hide and Seek but instead of the goal being hiding, it becomes being sought. Actively looking for way to cross paths but hiding your intent to do so. Then soon things evolve to a game of tag. You call him and he calls you. He touches you and you touch him. He kisses you and you kiss him. Before you know it you’re both wrestling each other to the ground. Awaken by the realization that you've just reached a new level you retrieve to your side and he goes to his. Now you’re sitting across a table playing a game of battleships, fishing for answers with vague questions that are filled with hits and miss.

You've officially entered a game of emotional chicken. You start playing charades with one another both of you trying to decipher meaning of the other’s actions without giving anything away. Finally you come to the realization that in other for the guessing to end one of you is going to have to step up and now you’re playing Russian roulette with each declarative word you’re pulling the trigger and their reaction or lack thereof is the trigger.