Trapped

Tides shifted and tears dried
While I sat picking up the pieces.
This is so dangerous.
I just want to understand something that's intelligible.
Now I'm forced to re-evaluate my own sanity.
These walls are unfamiliar and cruel.
It stinks in here...
So played out.
The contrast between what was and what actually is has taken my mind for a joyride.
It hasn't returned... I declared my mind lost a long time ago.
It's getting so tight
I can smell the person right outside...
Taunting me.
This box is cold and dry with not an ounce of mercy.

On The Brink

Not yes and not no
Free and still kept
I'm not exactly sure yet...
Think I'm in love but there's no one there
I have to stop falling for invisible souls.
When they're tangible, the heartbreak becomes that much more real.
This disappointment shapes itself out.
I put an ugly face to a beautiful thing.
I'm on my tippy-toes reaching
with anvils at my heels.
Some look from afar and assume I'm stretching my life across a plain.
Don't they know I'm on the brink?
I enjoyed a sunset once.
I tasted that night air and it licked me back like I were covered in pineapples.
I was in rapture until I woke up..upside down.
I'll mold that night into something definite
Until I can own up to my reality.
I get caught in between a stare that lasted too long and a heart that doesn't say my name.
He told me of words
I thought it would be a love letter, professing things hidden
But it was so random I wanted to forget the words I read as I read them.
I bit my lip for getting so excited.
I'm so selfish.
I'm so caught in between everything.
In the thick of a gray area I swore never existed.
Not yes and not no.
Free and still kept.
An invisible man torments me with his loud and abrasive absence.
I'm always on the brink.
But its not my fault... and not yours either.

He's All That

He knows who he is. He'll act as if he doesn't. Might brush it off (which will probably be the case). But at the end of it all, he knows where I stand, even if he'll never admit it to me. Not a dedication, but he was definitely on my mind.


I thought I saw colors and smelled lillies
Until his smile was the only thing shining back at me.
It was one of those things that make people believe in God;
those things that little girls write about in tattered journals and pink diaries,
later to talk about in vows.
He epitomized lipstick and perfume for women and discreet envy for men,
but for me, he's more...
They said he moved,
but I saw him glide
and I sat in the shade of his brow as his stride destroyed concentration.

I caressed the ego I put in place
and let him say what he wanted to,
because I sat on the words that he dangled in front of me.
I opened my mouth to taste them.
They reminded me of the cinnamon in peach cobbler.
Delicate like evaporated milk...
They satisfied my hunger and I feasted on them for weeks.
I waited for a breath from time to time just to smell what gave shape to his mouth.
I wondered how it tasted...
how it would feel sitting under the goosebumps on my neck if he happened to get too close.
He talked about memories and he talked about me.
His humility permeated though my hair
so I carved his face out on the stone that was my adoration for him.

I thought I heard harps and tasted sunbursts
but it was him sitting on a throne sipping on wine that he called my ecstasy.
My vision became infused with the wish of the present
and I woke up only to see you next to me.

The Mother in Me

For me, the hardest thing I have ever had to do was be a mother. Not just be a mother, but dedicate my life to the welfare of another human being who cannot fight for himself. I have to be his warrior and his protector. I'm always learning. New layers form and I see the depth of who I am... a person I didn't know I could be. I am different now. I thought I knew what sacrifice was, but now it has become so clear to me. Before my son, I lived so carelessly... I travelled with nothing, spent money like I was a 2nd generation Rockerfeller, and did any and everything I wanted. I have to learn to stop living in the past. The fact of the matter is that Yusef is here now. I am a different person now.
Now is a time when I need so much direction. I need a hug and someone to tell me I'm doing a good job. I need comfort. I'm so tired. TIRED. I'm lonely and I divulge myself in trying. Trying to do what? I'm not sure. All my steps feel like trudging. Everything feels difficult... like I'm stuck in quicksand all the time. I can't get out and I have a load on my back. He can't swim. I have no training. I miss love. I need my mother in the worst way. The "watching over you" speech isn't working right now. This isn't about me. It's about someone who hasn't learned to tell me if his food is too warm or his blanket isn't tight enough. Its about someone who can't tell me if I'm fucking up or not.
I'm still a woman with needs. So how do I let someone new in? How would I let him in to my biggest insecurities and still look him in the eye. How do I know that he would even be looking at me the same way he did before? How could I say that I'm so upset with myself for my mishaps as a mom let alone even becoming one. Where would I find the words to tell him about my fear of being "one of those who fell by the wayside"? How do I say that this life that I'm living isn't my own, but someone else's? Sounds crazy and shallow... but honest. I'm always trying.
I want to be the best I mom I can be, but I always ask myself about the possibilities of that happening. I'm not sure. Actually, I'm never sure. I'm tired, fed up, hungry, and at my limit more times than enjoying the babbling of my 1 yr. old. I feel so alone and closed. Hurting...

They say it'll get better. When?

Funk

When it rains, it's really a hailstorm on my side of town. But I've got an umbrella.

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.