Too Proud

I remember a kiss that spoke to me. It told me of something new and promised. The passion it encompassed matched my reverence for his touch. I miss the embrace I felt then.
His scent wasn't familiar, but captivating enough to keep my yearn fresh. It lingered in the space under my nose, so I saved it. I use it to tap into that time for occasions like this.

A tender moment... Something genuine, honest, comfortable. I needed that.

I remember those piercing eyes gazing into mine. I escaped the desire to try to read them. In those moments of rapture, it didn't matter what was behind them. I knew the basics. He was top-shelf, and I was new to luxury.

All he needed was that first time to make an addict. I don't want rehab. I just want another fix.

But I guess not. I'm hiding my habit.

Passenger

So tender, fresh, ignored...
I looked at her and saw my reflection,
tattered, worn, hurt, waiting.
I wanted to tell her how OK it would be,
but I had respect for her.
She asked me, "Why?" ... as if I had the answers in a confidential folder.
Her pride caused her chest to rise as if someone forbade to do otherwise in these situations.
An attempt of dignity came.
She walked away and told me she's going to find her salvation.
Her swollen belly glistened with innocence.

I wanted to tell her about the blank mission she was embarking on.
I wanted to tell her she was looking in the wrong direction.
I wanted to warn her about the blisters on her feet that were to come.
I wanted to hold her hand on this journey, but my feet were sore too.

She would soon find an unmatchable inner strength.
Soon, the walk's purpose would change.
Her smile would resurface with the embrace of her unborn.
She'll ask me, " What about me?"
I'll just wonder for her as I do for myself.
Where's my safety net?
No one ever catches me.
What if I'm not sure?
So, is this it?.... Stick it out?
No one's listening.
No one ever is.

I held her hand and walked with her.

Layers

I don't pop my gum.
My earrings aren't smashed, nor do they have a scandalous phrase etched on them.
I don't wear sneakers everyday.
Red Lobster isn't 5-star.
I can buy my own drinks, but yours taste good too.
I don't speak too loudly.
I'll see you for what you are before you even begin to get a glimpse of me.
Love isn't dead.
I'm very coachable.
I love mangoes and pineapples.
I'm sad that blacks aren't marrying anymore.
I love hard...real hard.
I'm not a gold digger.
I know when to say no.
I know when to apologize and I don't feel any less for doing so.
I don't need your opinion to validate mine.
When I get nervous and I smile or rub lotion on my hands.
I'm not a bitch all the time.
I work best under pressure.
I have so much to learn.
I'll try almost anything at least once.
Men are different from women and that's OK.
I have more than one favorite color.
You won't know when it's my time of the month.
Everyone has innate good.
I'm always thirsty.
I'm passionate.
I'm not a big chocolate fan...well any candy for that matter.
I see more for others, even when they don't.
I love to laugh.
I've been hurt before and that's OK.
I don't spend all day shopping.
Veggies are cool.
Rap isn't my favorite kind of music.
I don't know the lingo.
Terry McMillan isn't the only author I know.
My lips swell in the morning.
I don't perm my hair.
I don't wear a weave.
I don't wear contacts.
Marrying rich isn't my goal.
Your car type doesn't appeal to me.
Intelligent dudes are sexy.
I refrain from labelling.
I'm a great listener.
I miss old friends.
I get red in the summer.
There's nothing like sand in between your toes.
I'm beautiful.
I'm learning patience.
I want to see everything I can.
I can swim, and I'm not afraid to get my hair wet.
I don't eat fried chicken and habichuelas everyday.
I like polenta and risotto (not together of course).
My way isn't the only way.
I don't snap my fingers and suck my teeth.
I give second chances.
I'm proud of Barack Obama.
I always try to look at the bigger picture.
I miss my mother.

Coming Soon!!!

I've never shared certain parts of who I am with anyone. But now, I am learning to find comfort, therapy even, in opening up my world. I always thought that no one could understand. When you begin to open yourself up, you allow others to see you in a different light that you may not have wanted to be shone upon you. You allow others to make assumptions regarding your character and what you're capable of. You begin to look different to them. So I keep quiet.
Recently, I shared a part of my "story" (that's what he called it) with one of the smartest people I know. Surprisingly, he urged me to get it out, despite my reservations. I looked at his eyes through his glasses and wanted a pair so he could just see through mine.
But here I am. I'm gonna take heed to some good advice from one of the few people who make any sense to me.
Maybe I'll make sense to someone else. Maybe I won't.