Nectar

Aging and Loneliness

Maria Mekht|Unsplash

In the South, if you are somewhat of a loner and you do not surround yourself with what is new and improved or… what is, who is, and how things are trending, it is easy to fall deeper into the grips of loneliness. Ten years ago, I had a knack for busying myself with things that did not matter much, with things that seemed to fill a pressing void, but as I age, there is no nectar sweet enough to ease the ailments that I have grown prone to feeling.

I cannot lean back into the memories of what got me through the horny nights and draining days. Let me be frank, the other side of the bed is colder than a polar bear’s shoulder and I have forgotten how to right that. Every once in a while, I will poke my head out, look up, down, and all around to see if anyone meets my gaze. I cannot find my half. There is no Adam, no Eve, I am no one’s rib.

I am no one’s end-of-the-day highlight.

The older that I become, the easier it is to see that I have settled into a place where rejection often sends the damned for taking chances in trying to find love but have given up. The cause remains a cause but fighting for it weakens me. I want to feel sweet all over, taken… pressed into like a perfect pitch. I want to be a home run. I want to be sizzling bacon, the welcome smell of soul food in a packed restaurant. Is my tea no longer sweet?

Am I lacking sugar?

I want to be and I don’t want to be all at once. That is a conundrum that renders no solution. I have my own shoes to fill and they seem bottomless. Human beings want to love. We want to be loved. We want to share our lovely love with others who love. This shit should not be hard, but it is. And I digress. I want the taste of pineapple dripping from my lips, the delicate corners of apple slices sticking to my fingers, and buttermilk pancakes loaded with maple syrup. I want the ickiness of it all to drown me then pull me up and out of the water, and guide me safely to shore.

Black women are not attracted to me. Black men are intimidated by me. I am too this or too that to be loved by my own and I have no home anywhere else. I am trapped within the ins and outs of aging with no my place of sweetness to call mine.

I am nectar in waiting.

Someone whole enough will come around to take a bite out of me. I know this. I also know that when the heart is dead-set on shifting gears and loving, it wants what it wants.

In the South, I do not stand out. And what’s worse than any of this…

I don’t know how to.


Originally published on Medium

Taking Chances

Micropoetry|Musical Selection: Al B. Sure/Night and Day

womenart
Courtesy of Art De ‘Noe

If you asked me to —
At just the right moment,
I’d recreate a world where
You and I could spend our
Time simply taking chances
Until…

There are no chances left.


Originally posted via A Cornered Gurl on Medium.


*As you welcome a new year, I hope each of you is able to just sit and be and reflect on what 2018 brought your way, how you handled it, and what you will do in 2019 if faced with such things once again. I wish you peace, love, a hope-filled space, and tons of creativity to get you through the new year. Peace and blessings.

“Let Your Heart Be Light”

Customized Christmas card that I gave out this year. Here’s one for all of you. 

It is my hope, it is my prayer–that all of you will enjoy the upcoming holiday season. I will be taking a short break from social media, logging off effective, Sunday, December 23, 2018, at 7:00 pm EST. Both Jernee and I wish each of you a very Merry Christmas, that is–if you celebrate. If you do not, find peace in something you truly want to do and enjoy every moment of it.

Be Good To You.
Be Kind To Others.
Love As Much As You Can.

Peace and Blessings.