You Remind Me

You remind me of what it must feel like to visit the motherland.

There is a history and a connectiveness between us that

has remained unbreakable for quite some time.

I feel a sense of pride whenever

I am in your presence.

Everything else and everyone else

disappear from our lives

like the Shashe river disappearing

on the African horizon.

For those spellbinding moments

only you and I exist.
Every second in our secret world
feels
like
home.

Every night before I go to bed, I think about

the last time we were together.

We were on my sofa and
the TV was observing us observe each other.

I looked into your eyes and watched your lips

form words that were inaudible.

Drowned out by the pounding of my heart

that played rhythmic melodies as if it were a djembe drum

beating only for you.

Then you touched me and I felt a feverish heat.

Not a scorching heat, like the kind you can't wait to get

out of.

It was the kind you want to bask in on a sunny day
in Botswana.

I love the darkness of your skin, the power in your voice,

the way you tower

over me like a mighty Nubian King.

You remind me of what it must feel like to visit the motherland.

Baby Bird

Brandon

My precious baby bird,

born too soon.

Too young

and fragile

to have left my womb.

Things happen

for reasons

we don’t always

understand.

Our Lord and Savior had

other plans

for my precious baby bird,

my first born,

my heart.

For reasons unknown

we must be

apart.

Tears flow like raindrops

as I remember the day,

you entered my life

then went away.

Though you fought

like an eagle,

your delicate wings faltered.

You tried.

Doctors tried.

But it wasn’t to be.

One last breath

and you were set free

to soar in the heavens.

I miss you but I'm

grateful

that you've been given

new wings.

Fly my angel.

You’re in the presence of God.
When the time is

right, you'll be back

in my arms.

The Kiss

You kissed me and I realized

that I had never been kissed before,

not like this.

Our lips met and I felt you etching

your name on my heart,

taking ownership of it’s fragility.

Erasing years of abuse it suffered

at the hands of previous owners

who forgot to handle it with care.

Gently, you kissed away the

pain and in those sweet seconds,

I believed...

I believed in fairy tales and soul mates.

I believed in the story of us.

You became an alchemist and I was a rose

burgeoning through a tiny crack in the dirty and
hardened concrete.

In your kiss there was hope.

Happiness lived there too.

It was beautiful and unmistakable.

I lost myself in your embrace.

Lost, then reborn.

I felt beautiful and desired.

Because of you, my benevolent alchemist,
I felt transformed.

You kissed me out of a place of darkness into the sanctity of sunshine.

There was warmth in your gentleness. I wanted to dwell

in it forever.

But when our lips parted, so did we.

Fear and self-defense mode took over and suddenly

it wasn’t worth the risk.

But I will always remember the magic

I found inside your kiss.

Stress

Stress is a bitch!

It turned my normal life into a storm.

Ripping apart my well being.

Tearing apart all that was once good.

I’ve been tossed into the arms of uncertainty

and I just want to be left alone
to nurse the

cuts on my brain,

the aches and the pain.

All compliments of anxiety and stress.

Like snipers, they took aim at my spirit and

I don’t remember who I once was,

before the projectiles of worry and loneliness

found their intended target.

I feel smaller.

Lesser.

Why me, Lord?

How much more am I supposed to be able to take?

I’m wounded and irritable and I’m unable to sleep.

Stress is my caffeine.

An evil little stimulant that

keeps me spinning out of control.
My mind can't rest.
Helplessly I spiral into unknown darkness.

I’m unable to fight fairly that which I can not see.

My opponent has no reflection, but

I know it’s always there.

How do I win against a cunning

enemy called stress?

What Am I To You, Really?

Within the juxtaposition of lust and nothingness

we exist.

What am I to you, really?

Not good enough to be your woman,

but we’re certainly more than friends.

If I’m just a connoisseur of pleasure,

then you’re my architect of pain.

I desire and despise every inch of you.

Thoughts of us haunt me continuously.

Your presence awakens me immediately.

I curse the condition you’ve left my heart in.

Moreover, I hate what I’ve become.

A weakened, amoral version of my former self,

lost in lust and longing for an answer to

an enigmatic question.

What am I to you, really?