Thirsty

Grasping

Melting

Cream on my thighs

Guilty

Wanderlust

Desire

For you

From deep within

"Black people don't write about butterflies, yellow hearts and moons.

We got real sh*t to deal with!"

Were the next words

spoken on the mic

after my last piece.

I am a lover.

I love

autumn.

I love the moon.

I love

the ocean.

I love trees.

I love

The Goddess. The

darkness.

The light.

I love the children

laughing and singing on beat.

I love poetry.

I

Love you.

And you

hate this

about me.

Good luck!

When billowing fog

grasps my horizons

and fruitful endeavors

feed my angst

You fill me

with impressions

of crystalic springs.

And the cryptic

moaning of

my disposition

is for a moment

on hold.

Fingering my diamond and

Listening to him

Get his story straight

With no squares

No rounds and

No point

To align with

Left me

Right back

Where I began

Cross.

"You've never

been a real

mother to me!"

"and I never

will be!"

"Well stay the f*ck outta my life then!"

"I will."

Though sometimes

I fly

head held high

laughter escaping

arms spread

I will never

be as free

as my

neighbors cat

who fell over

still asleep.

Rain can't

fall

from a sky

so blue.

The flowers need

your heavenly

to dry the chill

of dew drop

fall.

The grass is

slowly dying.

Moon shines

on the mid-

night shade

as her roots reach

and capture me

and draw me to

a frightening world

where autumn leaves

are falling.