I love it when your cheek is pressed against mine My heart beats as if it’s its own drum line And I have to remember to breathe Like my lungs are caught in the Gulf Stream Your energy running along my coastline Warming my waters, deepening my seas And You pull back as I inhale … Continue reading Lines
Tag: QPOC
Reverence
He came to me like a poemSudden and freshThoughts of him rest at the tip of my tongue My words willing to dive into his chest at the risk of never being returnedHis melanin coloring my pagesHis roots deep and protectedMy verses must carry some weightSweet enough to be swallowed wholeAndReal enough to be remembered … Continue reading Reverence
Still Growing
Sometimes I start two or three new pieces before one comes to completion You’re still the muse This is just the latest edition I used to want to write someone like you into my story But I couldn’t have imagined a ‘you’ all on my own My version of you would’ve been boring Like Rocky … Continue reading Still Growing
Cause and Effect
Look into my eyes and tell me what you see A twinkle perhaps ‘Cause your face shines bright to me Listen to my heart and tell me what you hear A drum perhaps ‘Cause it beats wildly whenever you’re near Touch my hand and tell me what you feel A gentle grip perhaps ‘Cause one … Continue reading Cause and Effect
Where I Pray
I’ve never felt comfortable on my knees Praying for insight or reprieve Hoping that heaven is listening or that the devil hasn’t seen. I’d rather stand at the intersection of my pain and release, the place where my fears and truths meet. I couldn’t pray for clarity or peace My words abandoned behind gritted teeth … Continue reading Where I Pray
Safe Space
I wanna fall asleep with my face nestled into the back of your neck Like the space between your shoulder and head was carved out for me I wanna wake up next to you and say “good morning” to every inch of your body Like I’m paying homage to the melanin passed down from your … Continue reading Safe Space
The Lonely Hour
I know it’ll pass but the lonely is strong when I don’t want to cry into my pillow, filling it with my hurt because I want to be held. When I want to cry into a chest more resilient than mine in the moment. To be pulled in tighter than I can hug myself. The … Continue reading The Lonely Hour
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