Does She Know?

Does she know
That the hands she holds possessively
Were once wrapped tightly around this throat
Tangled in ebony waves
Grasping bed sheets
While that mouth she kisses tenderly
Set flame to brown flesh
Whispered exclamations of need into sensitive ears and
Pleaded for all I could give?

Does she know
That your body does not belong only to her
That I detonated the desire in your core before she even knew your name?

Does she know
That these lips had you spent and gasping my name
Only to be devoured by you
With your taste still upon my tongue?

Does she know
You like the way you taste on my lips
On my skin?

Does she hope
To eradicate every thought of me
Every memory
Every touch
and gasp?

Does she hope
To be enough to make you forget me
To take my place?

She may have usurped my throne temporarily
But, baby, you can’t forget me
And pretending won’t remove my crown. 


Suicide Note: Another Rough Draft

Here I am again
Writing a letter I’ll never send
And likely never finish
Attempting to justify that which we do not name
I am unraveling
S l o w l y
I am coming apart
I have seen better days than these
But I am unimpressed
I’m holding out for a new tomorrow
A better day
But life ain’t been no crystal stair
And better days don’t exist in this place
And tap tap goes the blood drop
On the pretty bathroom floor
Tick-tock goes the clock, as feet dangle from the door
And my brain says, “Do it.”
“You’d be happier dead.”
“Doesn’t that blade look so pretty covered in red?
And doesn’t it feel so good to close your eyes
Knowing you won’t have to wake up to say goodbye?”
But I delay
I postpone
I keep looking to tomorrow
The promise of tomorrow
I just need to make it through today

Suicide Note: A First Draft

I’ve written this in my head hundreds of times
And I’ll never send it
But I keep writing it
Pouring my soul into words
Never meant to be read
An explanation of my grievances against existing
Against my brain’s inability to function without medications designed to turn me into a walking zombie
With false smiles
False moods
Until I forget who I am
But the alternative is worse
Numbness and pain
And a dark gaping hole in my soul
And I can’t breath for the weight of expectations
of responsibility
of living
And I wasn’t made to thrive in the light
So I must fight the darkness
Lest it consume me.
But sometimes
Sometimes the numbness
The darkness
Is a relief


I’m only half black
Those are the modifiers assigned to my blackness
I am not like those other girls
I am “pretty for a black girl”
I am the exception
And so I look around and see beauty identified as something else
As anything other than me
Beauty is for white girls
And I am a shade too brown
And a touch too ethnic
I guess I’ll eat in the kitchen

Pocket Full of Rocks

Hanging onto life by my fingertips
Wrapped in silver linings
Wrought from good intentions
My brain is not my friend
That traitor is whispering sweet nothings
Promises of relief and rest
And an end to the constant struggle to stay aloft
But my fingertips are glued to that ledge
And though I’d peel the skin off my fingertips
Cut my hand off at the wrist
Just to release
The blade is dull by the time I touch it to my wrist
I must not want it enough
Instead I fill my pockets with rocks
Tie cinder blocks to my feet
And wait to slowly slip away

I See You There

Pretty boy
You took up residence in my heart
With your stormy eyes
And your inky soul
I came apart in your arms
Every single time
You unraveled beneath my lips
And I wrapped myself in you

Pretty boy
I see you there

But didn’t you see me falling?
And didn’t you see me drifting away?
I tried to take your hand
Tried to reach for you
But the darkness in you
Refused me
I see you there
But you never saw me