you, figment of beauty personified have enriched the lives of many, scaled or cycled or unmatched
I love you with a force that knows no name and carries no regrets, you are a gem–a diamond cut perfectly
and you deserve to be seen for the glow in your heart.
For my best friend, Mook, written on Valentine’s Day as my gift to her. We’ve known each other now for almost 20 years and I am happy she’s in my corner.
you are stronger than you know the power behind a well-worn broken heart, you are remarkable, glutinous, whole
I admire you you’ve given half of yourself to two different people and they’re growing into their own beings
Mother wolf, deviser of solid plans meshed in mathematical data, intellectual spirit
your eyes hold timeless love and I stand on sure footing bound to hear the re-emergence of sound from each blink
This poem is for my friend Alexainie whom we call “Zainey”, written on Valentine’s Day. It is my gift to her for being in my life and loving me as she does.
And how odd was the image of you that crept into the recesses of my mind as I looked on at a bond that began quickly, kept up with the changing of the times over the years, then pent itself into harm’s way by backing into a proverbial wall. Years later, that wall was torn down and those same souls who’d bonded quickly built the strength of their love up to a level that none of us can touch.
That is Salt. That is Pepa.
That is missing you. That is remembering graphic pictures sent to my phone. Skintight jeans cuffed at the ankles. Spaghetti strap tops. Fishnet stockings covering naked legs and supple ass cheeks. No panties . . . You were a voluptuous work of modern-day art and I salivated at your will.
Beckoned and Called.
I was younger then. Way younger. And I hungered for you. Those flicks kept me satisfied when distance had been too much to bear. I knew you were probably watching the biopic last night too and being overly-critical.
I was Salt. You were Pepa. And the difference between us versus them is we had lust pockets purging our friendship into a nasty ball while we allowed our feelings to turn into something bigger. I fell too hard, though. Something I was prone to doing many moons ago.
You pointed that out. My kind of love was not what you had been seeking. Still, you threw your bait at me and I swam to it like an eager fish. I had many nets. If I could have chosen, all of them would have caught you.
We didn’t part ways like adults should have. You stopped talking to me when you figured out the way I love could never satisfy you. I found that out five years later after dreading another ghost. It’s hard tracing the tracks of someone who never leaves footprints.
The music of our youth reached my ears and “The First Ladies of Hip Hop” reminded me of you and what I put you through and what you put me through and I wanted to pull them both into an embrace and tell them how brave they are for shooting the shit publicly and apologizing to one another for their wrongdoings.
