How does it feel to know the loneliness living in your stomach is what lead you to the entrance in between her legs?
Does the emptiness crawl up to your lips and meet hers halfway?
Does her hair drape down like curtains in attempt to hide her shame?
Do you think she’s as insecure as you because her body is the only language she knows how to speak?
Does she wonder how you touch the bones on her back and think of how my spine had mountains growing as you went lower?
Do her words hold your ego or do they bring softness to the places inside you that need it most?
Does her pale skin remind you of the cold past your father left behind?
Do you wonder why my soul and body keep you begging for more?
Does she know she tastes like regret and bitter wine?
Do you wonder how you became who you promised you would never be?
No one tells you how grief works. It doesn’t end with the funeral. It comes back in seasons and sits comfortably in your lap, palms and heart. You know this sadness it taste the same every year. Some days, you think of her and smile. Other days, you weep your tears dry. You pull the weeds and they grow again. It never end. Grief is the ex-lover that calls every now and then.
The tragedy spoke and said
“I wanted to make a life with an idea”
He bends my wrists back with his words.
I am worthy. I am worthy. I am worthy.
Yet, somehow those words remain unheard.
I cannot be like the moon and only shine enough so that you can be the sun.
You remind me of the men in my family
The way you break only in the presence of God.
How you hide your pain so deep inside
Words are crawling out your throat
But you cage them in silence.
-A man’s pride
I understand you.
The way your heart and mind are in a constant war.
How your thoughts become autoimmune.
The way you become comfortable in pain because it feels so familiar.
I understand what its like to swallow so many words theres books growing inside.
I know what its like to find shelter in between each word.
As if safety is when you write.
-Write your pain