Yes, you were right. You saw through me,
unraveled me like an old threadbare coat,
left me standing, exposed, stripped of my clever disguises.
And yet, I lied.

Why? Perhaps out of habit,
perhaps out of some wretched instinct to survive.
Or perhaps because the truth—raw, naked, merciless—
is more unbearable than the lie itself.

You wanted honesty,
as if truth could bring us closer,
as if it were not a blade waiting to cut us both open.
But I know better.
The world does not want truth.
It wants the illusion of it,
wrapped in softness, dulled at the edges.

So I lied.
Not because I did not trust you,
but because I could not trust myself
to be seen as I truly am.

No bed is mine,
If I lay not with her.
There is no home for me,
If I cannot hold her, gazing into the sea.
I am citizen to no country,
Unless it is the territory of her lips.

she loved like the first rock in the rings of saturn
solitary circling space flotsam
still invisible. not yet beautiful

she loved like the first eye formed
in the primordial ocean.
what was ever less seen

she loved like the first word.
what so fully shaped, so fully intentional
was less understood

she loved like the first note,
some harmonic oscillation played by a nascent zephyr
on a Pangean chasm; heard only by what some call god
and others called nothing - well before there words or eyes
or rings of saturn

and she loved like the last love
the whimpering call of the last dodo on its last day
a requiem for a dream always realised too late

Sea pecks sand with tidal kisses
salt spray perfume reminisces
granular tingling in curves on shore
toe curled footprints shifting floor

flooding valves and deepened flush
foaming roar and heaving rush
'til surf sweeps scene with praticed care
a promise there was nothing ever there

In the quiet moments when the night is deep,
When sorrow lingers, and the tears may seep,
Remember, love , your mom's embrace,
In the gentle breeze, in the warm sunlight's trace.

She walks beside you in every step you take,
A guardian angel, for your sake,
In the echoes of laughter, the memories shared,
Her love lives on, forever cared.

Your dreams, she'd say, pursue with might,
In every challenge, find your light,
For in your journey, she takes part,
A silent cheer, a beating heart.

Though words may falter, and emotions swell,
Her love's a story only your heart can tell,
She'd want you to live, to soar, to fly,
With each passing moment, reaching for the sky.

So when the days feel heavy, and the road seems long,
Remember her words, like a comforting song,
In your heart, she resides, a love so true,
Guiding, watching, forever with you.

Your dreams, her wish, a legacy to start,
Carry them proudly, let them fill your heart,
For in pursuing them, you'll find a part,
Of the love she left, an eternal art.

she's married, but you're lost in between the sheets of her four poster bed
and rational words like,
stop, and,
this is a bad idea,
are far from your head.
she's married, but you're thinking you could see a future if you squint hard enough
she's married, and you are too, but more to the idea of love
not so much to the guy sitting across from you both asking you how your day was.
and there are things in this world that you simply don't touch unless you want to get burned
like poison ivy or fire
or brown haired
green eyed
fair skinned liars
just to name a few.
she's married, but her lips taste just like honeydew and
there's a little piece of her inside you and
everywhere you go
everything you do
you can feel her
i mean, really feel her
but she's married, so there's not much you can do
she's married, my love, just-
not to you.

Must I tell you about her locs,
That dance with the rhythm of her hips,
Watching their twist, and turn – a testament
To the tangled thoughts in every strand, a reflection
Of the tender care she donates upon her hair.

And would I love to keep a lock, and key
To her locs, being a LONG story in itself—
Free, vibrant, and unapologetically bold
The sunlight catches the rich hues of her hair;
Tales of her heritage, struggles, and her triumphs.

I swear, I promise; I must say...
Her locs are the echoes of the laughter
And tears that have shaped her journey.

This that "cause you said that , now I'm not speaking to you",
This that "you took too long to reply so I'm done with you".
This that "you ain't **** getting her pregnant rodney",
This that "oh now you don't remember me? Then *******!",

Where did we go so wrong with communicating?
These apps are not stimulating no more,
Its just irritating,
I get like 2 matches a day and still nobody said ****?
Waste of time isn't it?
Time to set boundaries and benefits,
At this rate , I just want friends,
Why can't loneliness end?
at least don't pretend saying what was really meant,
Its not rocket science looking within someone's soul,
But if their heart is blacker than black and milds , then I'm gone,
If I call you a ***** on this phone , then I would be wrong,
Right?
Don't call me when you and ya' hubby get into a , fight,
We all got problems that need to be solved increasing the rates of cheating and brawls,
You wanna be him, she wanna be her,
Y'all know y'all both can't have it all,
On the internet looking like fine ****,
But Whats fine **** to the spiritual,
Iykyk we ain't liberals,
Time to build our people up in general.

She is that flower in pinkish-red hems
Blooming amidst the silent, withered stems;
She does not need any grace of water,
But pleased to tears that have fallen over

My hand trembles, I cannot pluck her roots—
She's too precious to be in worn-out boots;
Though it hurts, I'll hope there's a gardener
Who'll place her where light shines a bit kinder.