The One

Everyday you get up for the one.

That Alicia Keys song that was kind of nice once, that’s for the one.

When their eyes feel like the only ones to have ever seen you, that’s the one.

When you can count the beauty marks on his forearm and remember each design, then that’s the one.

Remember that they like honey over sugar,

Remember that their shoulders are broad for a girl, but perfect.

The one isn’t perfection.

Remember that the one is not perfection.

The one will be the one who likes you as a person.

The one will be the one who hates tattoos but loves yours.

The one will be all you need.

Miss the one.

Hold out for the one.

Remember not to pull away,

to tell yourself the truth,

to always tell the one the truth,

because they will always deserve the truth.

The one will deserve a better part of you.

The one may be a dream, question their existence.

The one may be the one to show up when you least expect it.

When everything’s great or all hell breaks loose,

that hole in your heart,

that strength you need,

that one,

that one thing that makes it worthwhile,


I guess that’s the one.


The Story of Us

The story of us started when a sand dune,

whipped into a feminine shape dreamt of life.

whispered her wish to the wind,

then jumped into the moon spirit.

In 1551, she crept down the mountain into a wolf’s den

and stole the life of a cub.

A boy of small stature

slaughtered the she wolf and ate her spirit.

With it, she and he taught his tribe to walk as animals,

 to protect the land from invading devils

Heartbroken, in 1919 when the race riots murdered her sons

she once again shed her skin.

And as a soldier,

she had cried oceans into existence.

The story of us started when a panther,

licking his wounds in the dead of night,

 hunting the light,

leapt into the spirit of the sun.

The sun swept across the savannah filling the lifeless limbs of a Baobab tree

363 years he baked in its bark,

before latching on to a passing slave catcher.

 In 1879, he was the son of a king who walked like a God,

teaching his warriors to be strong as trees and quick as cats

 He was an empress,

 and at one time, even balled himself up into sounds and became music.

There we spun

watching the world unfurl through motion and dance

The story of us

 our story

has lifetimes.

Sonnet 116

Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

― William Shakespeare

Ever Green

greenThe world tumbles

like leaves falling to the ground

Trees sway

Hold onto me now before winter takes you away

our love, an evergreen

strong and ever lasting

can delay the dead forests of reality

and keep the hurt at bay.

Who Is Not A Stranger Still

Who is not a stranger still

even after making love,

or the even the morning after?

The interlude of sleep again divides

it is clear again where one body

ends and the next begins,

Think to think at each encounter,

we will be strangers still

even after making love

and long conversation,

even after meals and showers


and years of touching.

(excerpt from Nikki Giovanni)


Kisses my cheek with such harmony

That I can’t speak

Cool and explosive

Licking the hair away from my face

As I grip the steering wheel and steer

Deeper into the rhythm

The sound resonates

Vibrates down my column

I cant think

You touch me and my thoughts strap suicide bombs to their chest

You kiss me

And they sit in the middle of brain,

quietly about to detonate


For even as lov…

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

-excerpt from Kahlil Gibran on Love


sorry i didn’t keep the letter you wrote

Or the poem you sent

Or the tears you cried

Or soothe your anger

Or listen to any of the songs you said reminded you of me

Or make the hate go away along with the love

I…uh, really am.