Supernatural Love

When I told you I was black girl magic

I didn’t realize how you wanted to use me.

To slay demons, exorcise them weekly;

Daily if we are together.

Creating dragons for me to tame,

Requesting miracles to the tune of my name,

Resting morals, worlds, expectations and double standards

On my shoulders

For me to turn into perfection to be adored.

But that’s not what black girl magic is for.

It’s for my love to be …

Too magical to survive without.

Not like a drug, but air.

It’s for my smile to relieve any stress

And my laugh to heal all wounds.

Black girl magic insists that I will grow you,

With you and because of you.

Not in a Wonderland kind of way.

You’ll never ask me to shrink

Or know my place.

My love will always be too… much to contain,

So you swim and fly around surrounded completely.

Instead of forcing it into a pretty little box

To package it neatly.

Recap: no demons, no dragons, no double standards,

No drugs, no shrinking, no boxes to hinder.

My black girl magic is supernatural.

Yet, it’s more love than weapon;

More appreciation than oppression.

That everyday blessing.

Not how much poison and pain I can endure.

I’m done biting bad apples

And drinking the kool-aid.

Me and my black girl magic will be on our way.

Advertisements

Touching Temples

I’ll let you consume me.

I agree to the point of urging;

Never begging,

But you do.

Fingers on skin,

Icy hot to the touch

Burning the flesh,

Yet cooling parts of me unseen.

Mouth…hungrily suckling.

Kisses like rain drops

Falling on every surface light touches.

Thighs.

Mine, yours, ours entwined

W

…..   i

…..     n

…….         d

………           i

……..     n

…….. g

…….C

………u

…… r

…..l

….    i

…….  n

……..g

and foldingtogether

Inside yours, mine lie. Those eyes.

They drink me thirstily

Gulping without breaths.

Partially deHydra+ed,

They roam from right to left.

Your words and hands work in tangent;

Reading me like Braille.

Mapping me in hidden languages,

Hieroglyyphs with more detail.

And you don’t love me.

Not in the traditional way,

But you worship my temple

Like survived lovers pay homeage to graves.

Between the glaze,

Clenched nails,

Dug in teeth,

And quivering abs.

We’re caught in this moment.

However long it lasts.

 

Consumption

Today, I love you more than life itself.

Peeking at you from the side of the bathroom mirror,

You smiled lovingly in my direction.

“Breathtaking,” was all that I could utter.

Even then, it was barely audible.

You looked at me as though we had never consumed each other.

I needed you the way I’ll never need another.

Full bodied and bold,

I was intoxicated off of the entire package.

That kind of love… I gotta have it.

Reflection so natural, soul bold, screw pure.

I’m still blessed to know that I am you.

The Problem

The problem with our love is that it was obscure.

You never understood it

That part never mattered to me.

You were hesitant of it,

I was too involved to see.

The problem with our love  was it scared you.

Heck, looking back, same.

You were wrapped up in this for all the wrong reasons.

I should’ve recognized the game;

New guy, same attraction – season after season.

The problem with our love

Is that it was 12 years of lust.

I grew comfortable, because I was growing

Until lust wasn’t enough.

Growth became interpretted as controlling.

The problem with our love…it’s conditional

Upon mental health; I demand.

Which made us terminal,

But you’ll want to think another man.

The problem with our love is that it was all in my mind.

The strength and endurance I was sure of

Was a mirage finer than fine.

The problem with our love is that it never was.

Sill girl, I scold silently.

The problem was you, gypsy.

 

The Ultimate Truths

Three moments of truth:

  1. Understanding the moment you love yourself regardless of any reflection.
  2. Finding someone who matches that love for both you and themselves.
  3. Realizing that someone skipped the first truth; making everything else a lie, and yet, the greatest truth of all.

This Time

Time is not linear.

We were over before we started

While we were still married.

We were divorced by the time we shared our first kiss.

Shortly after dessert.

I loved you at the time of my creation.

Around the same time, you quit loving me.

I was over you the day we said hello.

It was when there was no doubt, we were

meant to be.