Sunday, January 11, 2009

Confessions of a Side-Piece...(title edited)

Am I a secret?
Do you mention me when it matters most?
Does my kiss stay with you when time forbids our union?
I wonder if I'm stuck in the embrace of a lie or if I'm kept safe with secrets shared on a pillow.
Is my heart coveted in whispers
or is my name carved on the steps to your front door?
Ringing loud and clear?
Reigning omnipresent?
Murmurs in night shadows?
Taboo thoughts?
Are you wearing my smile on your lips?
Does it hold office in dismissed emotion to be unnoticed or untouched like fine China?
Do you make mockery of my favorable person among jesters in my absence?
Would you give my feeling occasion when your whereabouts are vague?
Am I to dwell in ambiguity?
You haven't called?
Am I not enough?

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Date Night

I wrote this after thinking about a bad date a few months ago. Nothing happened, but I got a little imaginative.

I stare at you with a closed eye
While we secretly anticipate the moments.
I try to will myself out of a mistake.
I don't want to be here.... with you.
I don't know chemistry...I'm going with a "flow" that isn't there.
You kiss my shoulder
And whisper your intentions in my ear.
I hear another song...another voice.
We engage and I push the regret to another room to sit with my loneliness.
Visions of another love emblazon my mind.
He crept in my dreams and danced with me while I was with you.
I don't make the time to feel sorry.
I don't allow the chance to come clean.
I'm too occupied with his face to look at yours.
I miss him more than I want to admit.
I robbed him of his fire when I walked in here.
I don't like you.
He doesn't love me.
I play myself and I know it.
But my mind gets cleansed with his face.
When we touch, the components of the "we" change.
They have to or else I can't do it.
A part of me is sorry,
And the other part is sipping a tropical drink.
I am with you and I escape to a lost moment.
Watching a movie under my eyelids.
I found it tucked under a pouted lip when you asked me out.
My dreams make him a whore.
I feel silly and out of place.
I know where I belong.
This first time with you is was a second, third and fourth with him.
You won't get that luxury.
I'm leaving before you notice.
It's not's me.
I'm not calling you later or ever.
I'll be too busy waiting for his call.

Sunday, January 4, 2009


I don't really post about my son or my career. Someone pulled my card about that recently. I just figured that my blog should be about whatever I want it to be. I should post about whatever I want to. And my son isn't the topic of my adult thought. But I decided that he does open up a different side of me. He reflects change, expansion, and progress. I never thought I could be a mother. Doubt myself all the time. I'm entirely too selfish. But everynow and then, I think to myself. I realize that he's still standing. He eats normal kids his age under the table and still weighs 3-5 lbs. less than they do. And he's smarter than some of the adults I know. But one thing I know... I'm not sure who taught this kid the stuff he knows, but if he tells me to go to the kitchen one more time, I'ma sell him on eBay.

So here's my son, Yusef.

He loves Elmo. It was kinda inevitable. I think he thinks Elmo is his kid brother. He's always feeding him and putting him to bed.

Yeah, he thinks he's all that. If you tell him he's cute, he doesn't say thank you. He bats his eyes like Bettey Boop.
A shame....

We play sometimes....

And we stare each other down....

And he plays music....whether I like it or not

So that's him....