Are you Black?

 “Are you black?”

You ask as 

the melatonin in my skin seeps in deeper

within my skin, 

like a child who hides in a corner or under their bed 

when they know, 

they’re in trouble, but the trouble that lurks 

needs shut down.

The trouble depends on the confidence within your response.

“Are you black?”

the wipe to my already fragile back of uncertainty 

following people tugging my hair,

hoping to see it fall off,

leaving it on the floor of in your grasp, 

to only be shocked to see my held backhand,

stopped before letting it fly through the air to later intersect with your face.

“Are you black?”

following after you telling me

“girl you eat like a fucking white girl” or 

‘Girl you don’t speak black”, but

still looking at me like I’m night to your day

when I want to sit down by your side.

“Are you black”

The question that I tried not to ask myself in the mirror growing up,

or looking at everyone as if they’re dumb for having to ask me that question, but

at the same time leaving me to question “if I” because maybe

I’m not doing my job,

not showing who I am,

or what I am as a person.

“Are you black?”

YES, I AM!!

The Poet For a Day / The Poet(s) Forever

 The Poet For a Day

The Poet(s) Forever

I used to embody

the empty pages

before me

the poet

writes, writing worlds

being the poet

means building worlds

together

in a friend group

standing alone never alone

The poet

writes of love we found in us

I used to love

wondering what came next

being the poet

means getting impatient & 

writing it

something that

not everyone can except,

but it’s okay

made sense out of

abstractions into beauty

nonsense 

is something God made for

people who look hard

into something

no longer there

Alone is embedded in

words on the page

alone

The shadows that

accompany, watchful eyes

I’ve learned

how to not be

boisterous when I

learn how to let

the wind carry me

to share

means to pour out of

my importance 

an empty picture

to know the sound

of the background

to share

to allow emptiness

to pour into you

my duties

laugh cry smile

repeat with you

I used to embody

empty means the destined

to be filled or at least

that’s what fairytales

said

the poet

writes a story of us

that took us too long

to get to where we are now

this is my

story of how we met

final bow

to the late-night terrors

as a 

little girl grown into

a woman

solo act

lived longer untold.

Become Stars Too

I think I'd die if I had
to entrust my life in

the extremities are

your arms. Read this

in the same way as

you'd read if it Snow White

tweeted saying if she

wasn't poisoned with

that apple she'd never

achieve her happily

ever after. Trust me,

it is not that I feel

any sort of fear towards

death itself, but I know

what it means. It means

that the radiance

of the overwhelming 

passion will take me

over, means a factory

restart of my body as

I know it, causing me

to come back to you in

such away, in such a

person that is completely

unknown to both you & I.

How could the universe

take such an instantaneous

change like that &

not shatter, big-bang-in-reverse

cause both you & I

to turn into Polaris stars,

turning everyone

we have ever known

into balls of fire to

provide light in

our galaxy so we all

can be seen from the

heavens on earth. So

that when the world 

does recreate itself

there would be someone

on earth, a couple that

looks a lot like us.

who lay looking at the

night sky, see us in

the sky with all our

flickering eternal life

glory & wish they

could be more like us.

Become stars too.

When She Speaks

I hate this, 

this melting myself over this fantasy, this dream that can only be written - lived on paper not reality.

I hate this, this headache achieved by surviving sleepless nights one after the other and coming out without ever looking it.

I hate this, 

this not being able to show my emotions, cause as a woman "I'm already weak",but showing my emotions makes me even weaker, but when I don't I'm "cold hearted" or "need to let my guard down" tell me what is the happy medium?

I hate this, 

this struggling and never being able to share it, leaving me to write and pray about it, hide it behind my smile that draws 'flirt' to me,

I hate this, 

these rules that as a woman I have to abide by, but never question.

Feeling as Weather

“I can’t be the sunshine and completely ignore the fact that I am raining inside.” 

Sure she’s smiling. Her arms are outstretched to you for hugs, but I can not 

fathom that you do not feel the blizzard in between her arms.

Looking Back at Her a Reflectional

It’s funny looking back on her,

once a quiet individual,

once a rarely seen unseen individual

that would have sworn up and down 

that she was okay living like this;

living in the ashes of her shadow 

as if this was her birth right,

once a misunderstood individual 

that thought being seen was overrated;

that everyone knew what was right and what 

was wrong, but ever was it rarely 

discussed what concepts were created 

that made these concepts tried and true;

concepts that were rarely questioned 

near as much as she.

It’s funny looking back at her now,

someone who once thought that it was

too much to ask to be heard,

pinning a voice to the words being read,

to have a face pinned to her name,

Separation Anxiety Driven Realization [Unredacted]

The Fog hasn’t even

settled on the last 

conversation we had, but

yet my eyes had

already dried of tears

but I still want 

to hear your voice.

The only problem is

that I’ve fallen head

                       heels

for you, but you’ve

convinced me I’m wearing 

sneakers in a game 

of chase to

hunt you.

Easier to catch you

with my dear.

I will run as 

fast as I can

to catch you, but 

at the end of the day how

can I catch you if

I can barely catch

my breath, I guess

that the cat & mouse gig

applies to love and but

I didn’t catch a 

a glimpse of the description

of the part that I’m supposed to play;

supposed to play, what sounds like a job!

What certified me for this potion?

What role am I,

because if you said pray &

I am the mouse

cause you would have 

fooled me unless you’re

cheese with legs.  

So even in the 

deeper metrpho metaphorical

sense I’m

still chasing after you

so this mind

as well be

a genderswapped telling of Cinderella,

but nothing I do

can stop you from

running away from me

at the chime of noon.

I say that I refuse to chase you,

but I am an anxious

hopeless romantic & I’m used

___to being the princess.___

The one needed saving

but  only you don’t need

saved, you only need 

the princess to admit  voice

that without you, she

did not have a 

pivotal role in the 

storyline of the fairytale.

AND I am not a princess. AND

I’m the one who’ll

fall

in

love

write a poem about

writing a poem about you

hoping you’ll find me 

through the words

of the poem;

the words of the poem created a poem that was

meant for you. Then

Maybe I can accept the fact  I can’t say

I love you, but

I can fight for you

write it down; type it out on page

until you read it

until you feel it.

The Ballad of the Inner Rebel

I can’t say that I feel any different.

Somewhere standing in a corner,

visually ostracized from conversations,

but somehow more intuned,

better seeing around the room,

hearing conversations I have been told 

to stay out of, I am still here.

Kicked to the curb has always been some sort of haven

in a world that always seemed to hate me.

I have always gotten away with more stuck in the background.

Only a select few can see me, but

this only gave me the ability to see them more,

to do so fully, just as they see me.

I can’t say that I feel any different. 

The way that I live,

in the shadows,

in the hushed bustle of the night

when everyone is whispering when I enter the room,

the eye rolls,

I’m still here, no less than you are here, but I am here,

just hidden, just reserved, just protected, all the same smiling, still talking. 

I am still me, even if you don’t know who I am.

I’m here.

Nice to see that you’ve found me in the shadows,

and made this your home too.

I am sorry if it takes a minute to open up to you,

I have been told that I tend to open up too much,

to let people in too close,

to not leave enough time to properly secure my defenses

as oncoming wars approach and breach my safety.

I can’t say that I feel any different,

it’s something that haunts me, but

I’m still here, and here with you for as long as you’ll stay.

If I Wrote Anything

If I wrote a lyric every time I cried, I guess you'd be able to call me a songwriter. All the poems I write, start off as lyrics to a hymn, a song of praise, but once I continue to write the words, each and every letter it took to write them down began to boil themselves down turning from water into evaporation at this part of the cycle I can not contain my emotions. They are now a part of the atmosphere, little particles that are now inseparable from the oxygen I need in order to breathe - so I guess at that point my emotions regardless of being felt will always be a part of me.If I wrote a hymn every time I made it over an obstacle, I guess you can call me a poet who's learned the fact that no matter how all you get mantrasonsters will always be under your bed, inside of boxes, all you have do is take them out and use them once in a while - it helps. It scares the negativity away and makes positivity too scared to leave. I'm just saying. Slap a smile on your face and then people will just stop asking if you're fine. Saying you're fine, is a waste of words. Words that I can not secretly snatch back from the air and chastise it from leaving to insecure security of my mouth, was not patient and waited for the entrapment of being written down on paper in a journal so and in ink so pretty it makes the pain of the words hurt less. I am a mother. I am not a mother in the sense that I am accountable for another human being. I am a mother since I am accountable for myself when I wake up and get out of bed anyway other than myself. The saying woke up on the wrong side of the bed when the days that I go through that it is an out-of-body experience just as much as how the day goes for me for that day is out of hand. I try to play catch, but even if I wear a baseball mitt my day and all of the decisions seem to fall through crevices that I can not see with the naked puffy red/ sleep-deprived/ empathetic/ joyous/ smiling/ hazel/ eyes. I have heard people make the mistake of telling me that how I feel is a choice. I'm that case rotate the world backwards, take the hand of time, and put it in the hands of the world so that the world can take time with it. Show me when I was given a multiple choice quiz so I can better understand why I failed, take me back, put the world back on its natural axes and on its normal rotation, tell time to say goodbye, bring me back to the present, but only moments before I'm given the quiz and take it again since I have studied more. My head must have been screwed on backward, my eyes rolled to see the inside of my skull and have been speaking in tongues for you to think that out of everything that I would have chosen that I would have picked this. That I would have chosen to be smacked by the world before I was old enough to be chastised by my parents; that I would have chosen to live in this skin that no matter what I wear on it and for onlookers to still look like as if it's a perfect trophy to have on the wall; that I would have chosen for my tongue and I to be enemies when it comes to weather or not I should speak up for myself - for my tongue to somehow find a way to communicate with my brain and convey all these different "situations" that'll happen if I were to do so, but yet if I weren't supposed to do so what other reasons would have God have given me a tongue, it gotta be more than just to transmit through the nervous system weather food is hot of cold/good or bad.If I wrote every time I cried, guess you can say that at that point I'd be sleeping on a bed full of oceans of paper, that the bricks that I use to close myself off would be crafted from the journals that would not burn after I filled them with everything that ever hurt me, so now I use them so I can't be hurt, that my body would be a vessel that hides a library so that readers can not annotate on the pristinewater-damaged pages, and that my eyes are the only eyes I dear let read what I wrote, before I let people read what I wrote.

'Because I am not silent,'

I've seen silent, and, 

I am not her.

Silent holds herself

to a different

standard

that are just 

out of arms

                  reach.

She rises to the occasion,

ready to get stuff done

for the day whatever might

that be, but she does

so with grace.

Silent doesn't like

leaving

people behind,

but when they reach 

being at odds with her

she'll put you out of mind.

Because

I am not 

silent; I do not

bit my tongue & say

how I feel.

I write palaces

on paper;

My pen

helps convey strong

foundations unwavered

by the wind or weather.

While she 

builds tents

in the 

dark;

leaves lights

on in

the distance

to show

where she 

is, but

leaves the 

doors locked.

I am not

silent.

I'm still learning my name, 

still grasping my 

footing

around her.

We were born 

together 

in a since 

two-sides 

of the same 

coin.

You see her 

when you look 

at me.

-She wears my smile 

when she needs 

to be brave. 

I wear her solidarity 

when I need grounded.-

I guess you can say 

that the reason

I worry

I take up Too Much Room

is because I never go

anywhere

without her.

I hold the light 

that casts 

her shadows.

We both wear & share 

the same voice.

-She scoves

at my loud whispers &

I mock her

saying she needs

to speak up, - but

We do not 

demand each other to change

Evolution is inevitable.

I 

already changed once

for her

even when she didn't ask

me to.

I did it because

somewhere in highschool

I felt more

doormate

               than human;

my skin

                become flattened,

                my bones

       began

to fail in

            holding me up

                             right,

                my face

convinced 

needed

make up

to cover the foot prints or

the dark circles under

my eyes.

Lesson #1:

Caring what others

thought takes a toll;

One you can't pay

with what little cash 

you have.

She was ready to 

throw in the towel;

I resented her for that

therefore

I spoke up;

I spoke up,

set time 

back

became human again.

I used to be silent.

I used to be

silent,

but I'm not anymore.

If I ever become

silent,

you'll know in the difference.

you'll see her

in the front seat 

driving the car 

neither of us has

the license to operate.

Don't ask me why,

neither of us

will know how to answer.

Just let me

find myself

find me

aid in finding herself

again,

let the fights

let the bickering

and the late night 

meetings 

come to a end.

I'll come back.

I always do. But;

So does she.

When You're the Healer Friend

 I am a joy,

let my smile rub off on you and

I will take the musk and the dirt 

that comes from your frown.

I am a joy to be around,

let my mood rub off on you,

let the smell of a bubbly child rub 

off on you, and put springs 

in the balls of your feet.

The sun is up, let me help you become 

friends with your shadow,

I have been acquainted with the night & 

have learned how to make it smile too

so if you give me a try I can win you over too.

I have been through my own gravestone & 

I understand what

it feels like to be alive but not have been revived 

let me become your healing pack,

take the falling flesh from your bones and 

replace them with the flesh of a woman who 

knows how to become a manifestation of whatever 

other people want.

I’ll give you my rest and my peace for your anxiety,

child let me save you and not have to be your god,

My God helped you to this point and all you need on

this journey is for someone to see you

I’m trying to tell you,

I see you 

let me see you

I am a hollow representation of who I used to be 

I can not heal myself, I have tried

the only supplement that even appears to come close 

to the sensation of being whole

is for you to reconnect with your other half

though chances are when you do find that

there will be no need for me to be in your life,

I’ve gotten used to that,

which is why I have grown close to the idea of finding love,

but never had the privilege of keeping it,

of finding community, but becoming acquainted 

with what the outside of each one looks like,

have gotten used to making a home in other people's 

broken and making my broken their whole.

Where I'm From - (October 2,2018 Anniversary Revision)

 

Past

I came from a quiet place for 

the first five years of my life.

I was the only 

child.

I came from wishing on stars, 

watching Disney movies; playing dress-up;

warm home-cooked meals;

from being told, but not listening.

I came from 

pink and purple are my go-to colors.

I was the only 

child. 

I came from lessons learned;

from wisdom, joy, and love, experiences.

I came from acknowledging that I might not go to church every Sunday, 

but knowing that going to church isn’t what makes the relationship with God- 

It’s God choosing you and you choosing HIM back that makes the relationship; I came from worship at home with Mom and Dad.

For 

I was the only child.

I came from a mother and father watching their little girl 

dream and pray for another playmate.

For 

I was the only child.

Asking Mommy, Daddy may 

I have a little brother or sister?

Dreaming,

Praying 

for that to come true one day, 

one day soon.

__________________

Closer to the Present

Then five years my dreams and prayers came true.

experiences.

I came from a family filled with rejoicement, 

excitement, more love, and more

For my little brother was born, 

and named James and brought home.

I came once a quiet place to a noisy place.

For now, 

I'm not the only child anymore.

I came from son pick this room up,

tell your sister to help.

I also came from both of you come here,

give me a hug.

I came from not being lonely anymore,

having someone younger to play with.

Soon I came from going to a place with no understanding.

A new school,

a new environment.

Away 

from my parents.

Still close 

yet father than I used to be.

A place that made you think,

made you learn.

Makes you understand Mom and Dad care 

more than the people outside the family.

I went to a place that made me miss 

mom 

dad

brother

home-cooked meals

mon-fri 8-3.

A place where you're stuck with 

burnt pizza and overdone food.

Also stuck with mean teachers who act fake to everyone,

don't care 

as much as your

parents.

I went to a place where I knew who I was, 

but people tried to change that.

They tried to make me less than myself by bullying me, 

not caring and torturing with hatred and hate-filled comments.

They offered fake compliments, 

which somehow made me feel less than them.

I've wanted to have a true friend, but 

never knowing that the friends I had weren't what I was looking for.

I once thought that I had found a true friend, 

but I didn't know how blind I was to her deceitfulness.

I am from a family 

of wisdom.

I came from again praying 

for another playmate.

However, now asking mommy, 

Daddy can I have a little sister?

The mother and father still watched their 

daughter wishes for something else.

__________________

Closer to present x 2

Five years later I then came from a place 

filled with more noise, rejoicement, and excitement.

For my little sister was born, 

named Kalena, and brought home.

I quickly came from a room filled with toys on the floor and constantly heard "Baby girl clean this room up and tell your big brother and sister to help you,"

Again I went to another place,

more understanding than before.

I went to a new school,

a new environment.

This time still hoping to make a 

true best friend or even just a friend.

Still learning,

making my parents proud.

Getting A's on a

a lot of assignments.

However, it wasn't impressing the 

people around me or even myself.

Yet I was impressing GOD, 

that's what I needed to focus on.

I was making impressions on teachers 

by working hard and acting civilized.

I am from a place where 

imagination runs wild.

I come from where people can 

express how they feel.

I'm most definitely not from a rich family, but

 I'm definitely from a blessed family.

I am from love 

no hate.

However, I see the opposite from 

outside my windows every day.

I came from a place that's heard gunshots and violence, but 

never being there in person.

I came from a place that helped me 

when I was bullied.

They helped me understand that people 

don't hate me but the GOD in me.

Which now I understand 

what that meant.

I came from

a place with understanding where there was none.

I come from

a family of no separation though there are walls in my house.

I came from a place where it's loud 

all day but quiet all night.

I come to a place where I might cry due to being 

spirally touched by the presence of God

and I don't get 

judged for it.

In fact, I may even need to comfort 

family members for the same reason.

I haven't been the only child for more 

then eleven years now.

Wow God has blessed me 

in so many ways.

I am from a place where d

reams are heard.

I am from home,

heaven.

Yes!! I am from 

mistakes made.

I am from a place 

where people can fit in.

I am from a place where secrets are never held. 

The truth is always told.

If not we repent 

if a lie is told.

I am from a GOD

formed family.

I am from a well-known,

unknown family.

I am from a family of new, 

old family members.

I am from a family that will try to make 

you happy when you are sad.

Yet not willing to cross that line 

that makes me into a brat.

I came from

a GOD 

blessed family.

______

Present

I once again went 

to a place.

This time with a lot of 

God-given understanding.

Where I can work on what 

I have already known and learned.

I come from a place where I've 

never thought I would ever enter.

In a state of mind, I've never 

thought I would ever be able to achieve.

I don't care as much about what 

others say I need to change 

so I can be who they want me

to be.

I came from a mother and father, 

with a brother and a sister.

I came from God.

I have made many mistakes 

in my short lifespan,

When I step back and take a 

look at how wonderful life truly is.

I didn't understand God will always love me,

will take me with all my flaws because he'll take them away from me forever.

I come from 

laughter.

I come from 

a love for writing.

I come from 

getting closer and closer to graduating.

I come from more than 795 pages, 

151 short stories and four different journals.

I come from 

a grieving family.

I am from 

having a true best friend now.

I am from 

a high GPA.

I am from 

a cheer squad.

I am from 

New Beginnings of all types.

Iron from 

not being afraid to stand up for what I believe in my friends.

I come from 

Growing Pains.

I am from 

asking God to constantly help me.

I come from 

wanting to do great things and be able to do great things.

I come from 

embracing my race in my gender, and who I am even more.

I came from 

quickly realizing that people will never stop trying to break me down and change me.

They don't phase 

me anymore.

I come from 

a family dinner that may struggle at times.

I come from 

situations of confusion, but I come to understand what has happened.

I come from 

a family that's all you need to know.