If you lose interest in me
why should I keep interest in you
you can’t say I never cared
the foot was never in the other’s shoe
I don’t seek out apology
because I know I’ll always pull through
I accept this wasn’t meant to be
despite all the things I wished to do
Living just to die
self-fulfilling sacrifice
working nine to five
earning time to just survive
Pour your molten words into my arteries
and etch them on my heart, your promises
made by moonlight, by candlelight, by all
the warm intimate means of illumination
that two lovers employ in their nests of
secret affection, whispering sweet lies
that, tangled within twisted sheets, seem
more epic than any ancient tale of queens
and dragons but are not nearly as eternal.
Autonomy began single cell
a void reaching through
bars, with hands outstretched
Into possible horizons
and a fervent taste upon lips.
Reconciled through abominations
and recourse, speaking only in
Latin tongues
Like fire, like angels
Recognizing intention
In a blurred reflection
Of a fogged up mirror
And like a child gleefully awaiting
the clarity of its own face.
Mud King
My man has the softest eyes
you’ve ever seen.
Like rich earth,
like shade on a summer day.
My man is so soft.
You wouldn’t know it
from first glance
or first conversation,
but he has such a good heart.
He cares whether or not
the bird’s wing gets fixed.
He laughs so hard he squints
his eyes.
His skin looks like
the sun gifted that color
just for him.
When we first got together,
my body was a storm cloud,
my heart a thunder.
Once, he wrote a poem
where he called himself the
Mud King
and I couldn’t help but
think that title should’ve been mine.
For years,
he held me
even when his heart was weak.
He kissed my forehead,
gave me flowers on days
when I only knew rain
and
still
I was cruel,
gave him thunder,
gave him bruise and bite,
tried to give him children,
but could not
again
and again.
And again and again
he loved me.
He loves me.
I am forever sorry, my heart.
I am forever grateful to you.
Even if no one else knows it,
I know you are a good man
still.
Sometimes love simply exists so easily, it isn’t forced, it just exists with immediate comfort, even in silence. It’s like you almost become telepathic with the one in the room, cafe, or wherever you are because the connection is just that strong. Words aren’t needed because at that point, it’s felt with an undeniable warmth and embrace that makes your body feel as if the person is hugging you in that moment. Your heart starts to beat faster, with your love spoken in unspoken glances of honesty. No judgement, just understanding with love that’s unconditional.
The words “I am not alone” cling to my tongue with hopes of preventing the words to come out. Because as it’s said, comfort is glorified with the strength in knowing that someone out there is struggling to. Together, without even knowing each other, we are conquering our trials with unimaginable tenacity to make it to the other side of this bullshit, magnitude of an earthquake. Left only to find that we too, can be rebuilt even after being destroyed; that beauty comes from tragedy, as long as we fight.
In some small Texas town,
the boys are drinking beer;
they can’t tell up from down
but they do know there from here.
They ain’t never read too much,
but they frown upon disorder,
so they talk a deal of shit
with their eyes upon the border.
I was listening to a song, and this song sang to my spirit. I felt the Holy Spirit come over me and shift the atmosphere in the room.
I broke down into tears. It sang, “I’m sorry, when I forgot that you’re enough, I’m sorry..”, the great part about the song was that he kept saying he was sorry, and that’s how I felt—sorry.
Heart with regret on things I couldn’t control, mind cluttered with thoughts that wouldn’t leave me be. I was sorry.
My sleeves were soaked from my tears that were overflowing. I spoke, “Lord, these tears I cry are to be as if I were at your feet in front of your throne.”
I could not speak, but He knew my every thought. He knew my hurt, my aches, and my pains. I surrendered it to Him because the battle is not mine, it never was. The battle was His.
I could say sorry to him, repent about the same things repeatedly, but I’ve forgotten I’m already forgiven. Instead of saying sorry, I’ll thank Him. Thank you for forgiving me, thank you for choosing me, thank you for giving me another chance.
Do you think
Do you think that there are
Do you think that there are some soulmates that
are never allowed to be?
