We...

With love on my lips, I whisper your name
With a smile in my heart, I see your face
With lust in my eyes, I crave you,  long for you and.. In my mind, I'm fucking you
Dreams of sleepovers, sleep ins and mid morning snacks consume me
Thoughts of you coming to me makes me anxious
You are my unicorn, my elysium, my thoughts of grandeur
You are my hope, my love, my wish
I wish for dreams to come true
I wish for us to be true
To be fulfilled
To be loved in plain sight
I wish for you and me..
To..
Become we...
To become this..
To become...
Close



~aDr '17

Familiar

Stop listening to yesterday..

Stop reliving what feels…

Commonplace.

Whispers of familiar…

It seems as if we been here before…

A sense of déjà vu…

The fights, the arguments, the petty spats…

…of yesterday.

We feed off nostalgia or…

Muscle memory..

Although the package is different the vibe is the same

The shift, the whispers of

…yesterday…

We have to stop… shake the familiar..

Break the cycle of

familiar

Stop listening to yesterday..

Start anew… Hit reset

Refresh the browser

And..

Change the rapport..

The conversation..

The way we communicate..

Make it more intimate, more kind

More like the sounds of today...

And tomorrow…

You see, I see you, althought you think I can’t

I see what you are, who you are and what you’re trying to become

I know things aren’t ideal and we seems to bait

Each other in these petty spats to test the boundaries of what

We make

Of each other..

Your usual is my unusual and my familiar is your unfamiliar.

But..

I beg you to see me as your today

And...

Stop listening to yesterday....

~aDr 

New...

He said he was uncertain about dating me.. Said he didn't want to waste my time or his... I knew the vibe shifted but damn, that much? I thought it was fun. I thought we were having fun.. I thought surely this time would be different... that we would be different... that this thing we were doing, are doing, well, was doing would be different... Surely, right? So many emotions going thru my mind as the tears streamed down my face... So many words running thru my head as I sat there mute... How ironic a writer that cannot find the words to say exactly what's on her mind as he sat there and spilled his guts.. So articulate, I thought.. How is he able to form any words as I am shrinking right before him? How. Could. He? I struggle to look at him because the tears are hindering my sight. So many tears I thought.. So many emotions in my silence and yet he is rambling on... His voice doesn't even sound like him. It almost sounds disembodied.. Like, the ghost of dating past and Sunshine Anderson is the narrator... "heard it all before...." and I have: it's not you, its me... I've been rejected before... I mean, who hasn't? I wasnt crying because of what was being said... I was crying because I was pissed. Pissed at myself because I felt the shift... This hit harder than most because I thought we were vibing, digging each other... It was so effortless, organic... The chemistry was magnetic... Knowing looks were being exchanged... Ideas discussed.. Dreams spoke about...Things felt like they were falling into place. We were getting to know each other, becoming entangled, making memories, creating intricacies....Then... it happened... The vibe shifted and we became anew....

More...

I am just a booty call who is trying to turn the tide and become MORE.  I always get myself in these precarious situations. I want something deep, tangible and intangible.. How can I explain without sounding cliché, crazy or whiny? I date multiple people so I won't get attached to one. However one always stands out more than the rest. Its nothing that I can put my finger on exactly, he just does. It could be conversation, the way he says my name or the way he moves. I cant explain it, it just is. But this one, this one feels a little different, seems a little different, might be a little different... Could be the way we started…

We got friendly on some humbug type shit. I was a space in time where he needed someone on a more physical level and  I needed something on a more emotional level… He gave me what I needed more than expected which was unexpected and I gave him what he craved for at that moment. And now the tide is beginning to turn. When my legs flew open and he entered my wombless womb, my emotions bubbled to the surface. I squashed them tho. Not today Satan and not with him. By that I mean, he's unexpected. He made me cum like I haven’t in years, something that someone who is familiar with my body took months. After I see him, there's a calmness. No calm before the storm because there's no storm, just calm, peace, an easiness.. I am completely relaxed, not anxious, not wondering if he likes me, just calm. When I get home and I’m lying in my bed, I start to fantasize about him, us. I would dream about us being together, being happy , being in a relationship and becoming entangled in each other lives. I fantasize telling him my deepest, darkest secrets and fears. I fantasize him returning the favor. I fantasize about everything down to Sunday brunch.  I picture myself looking in the mirror with him standing behind me or in the next room, getting dressed.. asking me am I ready? Brunch will be over soon, he says in a deep baritone voice. I smile as I put on the finishing touches of mascara and head to where he is standing and he hugs me. He smiles at me. Looks at me adoringly and says, you look beautiful which makes me giddy. We walk out the door and head to brunch. Our conversations are always entertaining, enlightening on my part. He teaches me things I didn’t know I wanted to learn. I tell him corny jokes and he laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. As we ride down the street, his left hand is on the steering wheel while his right caresses my thigh. My girl tingles as if his fingers are tapping out a secret message in Morse Code that only they know. At this moment, in my fantasy, if I was a kitten, I would purr. I'm enthralled, happy, satisfied, falling deep into the rabbit hole, into the abyss, chasing something intangible, wishing on a choclate, shooting star, smiling the biggest of smiles and then, I snap out of it. Because in reality, I am just a booty call who is trying to turn the tide and become MORE.

Missing Love...

I love talking to you every day, throughout the day... Wishing I had someone like you, something like a best friend that I can talk to, be myself, love and feel safe in my life... I'm getting better with the singleness. I'm getting use to it but some days, just some days, I wish for more...

Anyway, you bring all that to the surface... You make me wish for things... Things more than sexual, things deeper than the surface, things that can't be felt by touch or seen with the naked eye but only felt by the heart, vibrations and energy...

I'm having a hard time expressing myself.. Nah, this ain't a love type scribe... Nothing like that... I'm just missing my other half,  my make me better half, my love, my confidante, my friend type scribe... You make me miss love...

Not right now

I always attract the "not right now" guys. The "I just got out of something" guys and the "I'm not ready for anything" type guys. 

You know the ones that are emotionally unavailable, mentally unsound, and brokenhearted guys. The ones that put everybody in jail for another woman's crimes? Yeah, that guy... The ones that want to be up under me, sponging off my goodness and mercy, soaking up my strength that drains me of my energy, my good nutrients, my sound judgment making it impossible for me to love me fully. 

Yet, I'm the one that gets him right for the next door prize. I help his mind get right, his emotions level and mend his broken heart. Then he's ready to take on the world and find his right now, his one, his I want to be in something and I'm ready for everything girl. 

I give so much of myself to the not right now, the I just got out of something and I'm not ready type guys that I feel depleted. I feel like it will never happen to me or for me. That I will never get what I see, help to retrieve or help to relieve because I do so much for these type of guys. 

I know that I have a lot of love to give. I know that when he does find me, I will be ready to give him what he needs, wants, desires and never thought he was missing. So until then, I will keep loving, keep hoping, keep pushing, keep being open for my right now, my I want to be in something and I'm ready for everything to find me type guy. 

ThePoet

I’m not a power to the people, black power, raised fist type poet
Im not a Stokeley Carmichael,
Huey P Newton,
Angela Davis or..
Malcolm X type poet
Im not a Gil Scott-Heron,
the revolution will not be televised type poet
Because I am not a revolutionary
However I wish I were...
Sometimes
I wish I could spew facts about police brutality,
cite statistics about racial injustice,
and the killing of unarmed black men and women Remember,
Sandra Bland
Decynthia Clements
I wish I could bring up every name of every person of color that was killed by the police
Like the young lady in Baltimore..
Y'all remember her..
Korryn Gaines.
She barricaded herself and her five year old son in her apartment
And 5-0 kicked in her door guns blazing
killing her and injuring her son
I wish I could remember more names other than the ones in the news..
Like Trayvon Martin,
Tamir Rice,
Freddie Gray,
Philando Castille,
Eric Gardner,
Terence Crutcher,
 Mike Brown
Or the boah selling cd’s outside the store in Louisiana  Alton Sterling..
no charges filed and countless others...
like Linus Phillip Jr,
killed in Forida during traffic stop
because the windows on his rental was too dark or...
Stephon Clark...
who was shot 8 times in the back as he ran to the back of his grandmothers house while holding his cell phone...
As they stood over his body concocting their lies of being in fear for their lives
I wish I was more in tuned with the struggle that I would dare to be natural,
but ayo.. Im a creamy crack kinda girl..
Im like Pookie from New Jack when it comes to relaxer...
It be calling me man...
I need that white stuff on my edges, on my roots, burning my scalp and overprocessing my tresses...
My shit gotta be smooth.. straight.. laid..
You know that saying, fried, dyed and laid to the side or something like that...
But Im not..
I am not a revolutionary
I am a love type poet
The type poet whose heart pours into her words and spills out her mouth and makes her put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard
That wears her heart on her sleeve type poet
Thats in love with love type poet
Thats always wondering where he at type poet
Thats steady screaming of love, broken hearts, rainbows, and unicorns and shit type poet
But if I was..
A revolutionary...
I would damn sure be an African flag flying,
 big black afro having,
 bamboo earrings,
wooden necklaces,
peace signs,
 daishiki wearing,
marching til my combat boots fall apart
all the while screaming
no justice no peace
with a tightly closed fist raised in the air,
until the heavens opened up...
and our slain,
 lynched,
assassinated,
murdered,
forever gone
but not forgotten ancestors
who paved the way rains down and says
It is done, My Child..
But until then,
 I'll be a love preaching,
steady seeking, a
lways wondering where he at,
broken heart fixer,
rainbows and unicorns and shit..
type poet...
Because Im not a revolutionary....

Peace...