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How dare you enter my space
With intent so untrue?
Why did you come here in the first place
Without thinking this all the way through?
I didn’t put all my hopes in your basket
But I won’t lie –
I fully trusted in you
To be my side
To be my Tribe
To be there when I needed you
Why’d you bother in things that you knew were ‘wrong’
Knowing it was all nothing
Just a phase for you?
Why didn’t you pull yourself together
Instead of
Creating – of me – a season in you?
A place you’d go
To calm your inner storm
When your Heart was raging inside of you –
A place of solace and safety and warmth
When she just couldn’t provide it for you?
Come into this place
With your dirty feet and your falsehood?
How could you dive
Into my Soul deep
Just to contaminate the
Spirit of me?
You trashed my stuff
And tried to loot my goodness
Left your claw marks all over my skin!
How dare you, Sir
How could you hurt me
And walk away
Having wounded me beyond
This skin I’m in?


Purple Flowers


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My Dad sends me pictures of the trees and flowers in his yard back home.
Sometimes they are pink.
Sometimes they are white.
Sometimes, it’s just pictures of the evergreen trees and their never-changing leaves.
Today, they are purple.
Purple . . 💜

I was bullied a lot as a kid.
I was teased for having too much hair on my head.
I was teased for being too big for my age.
I was teased for being too strong for a girl.
I was teased for getting good grades.
I was teased for being quiet.
I was teased for the joy I had for reading.
I was teased for being too dark in the melanin of my skin.
I was teased for the foreign trace of my heritage.

I don’t forget any of it.
I still remember some of their faces.
I remember how I got even bigger and taller than them.
I remember how I didn’t use that against them.

We all respond to everything in different ways.
And I am glad that I didn’t stoop to their level and allow their dirt to contaminate the beauty of my being.
And even though I grew up in a very different era, I pray that anyone who has been affected by that kind of senseless hate can grow and rise and flourish in their own beauty, despite all of that negative energy…

Be Moved . . .


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I used to Write for approval.
I used to Write so that I’d be known for something else other than my ‘shyness’.
I used to Write so that I would have something that I was best at over everyone else.
I used to Write because I wanted them to know me . . .

I don’t do that anymore . . .
I Write what I Write when I have something to say.
What that does to you or for you . . .
Well . . .

g o n e


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He should have left me alone
He admits it everyday
He had no intention of staying
It’s right there in the things he doesn’t say
How he spins it a thousand different ways
I hear it in how he says her name
And her name
And her name
And her name
It’s there in the look on his face
He’d rather be out of this place –
He pulls words from the air
When he is miles away
And I feel my Heart skip
As I fall for it again
But being present
In the arena of his games
I see how he doesn’t even
Mean a single word of it –
I see him try to search
For fillers in the space
Of what used to be our
Comfortable silence
And here
Is where I realize it
And again
The reasons why I
Gave so little of myself to him –
And maybe he saw this
But I’m disinclined to believe it
Coz no
He fails at this Love game
He’s not smart enough to perceive it
Because if he was
He would have known that I
Loved him
He would have seen it
Unless he knew
And he realized then that he loved me
But that he didn’t mean it…
He admits it everyday
With his words and the way he acts
He can’t even look my way
With his shoulders squared and face downcast
But he knows he’s done me wrong
The guilt is there in his eyes
And I am already gone
Before he can even say his goodbye –



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There is something lonely about this picture.
Something desolate.
I think of things forgotten.
Not completely –
I mean – not by everyone.
Have you ever heard somebody say that they have nothing?
When in fact they have their family
And a well-paying job and a
Roof over their head and legitimate safety
And what looks like proper joy?
Forgotten by nobody.
Most cherished.
Most loved.
But there’s that one person that doesn’t
Even notice them and
Takes them for granted.
There’s that one smile that they wish for
But they never get…
That’s what this place looks like.
A place in my Heart kept pristine
And clean
And sacred and on reserve
For someone that may never come…



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I like that quiet hush
In the super-early hours
Of the morning.
When people still use
Their inside voices
If they even speak at all.
Where the sun is
Not long from rising.
And there is not a sound
To be heard for miles.
When the sky is still dark
As ink.
When the streets are still empty.
Before the city awakens from its sleep
Before the engines rumble
And the horns blare
And the alarms beep
And humanity resurfaces and
Dilutes my
Illusion of absolute solitude…

do i thrive


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Anything to get my mind numb
The more I try to fight it
The stronger it becomes
Telling me stories in perfect
To the point that I can’t tell
What’s real and what is not.
And this is me
Certified ‘healthy’
All systems and alarm bells
Functioning properly.
Not a damn thing broken
And yet here I sit
Feeling it all intensely.
Life’s become so hard
And I am used to it
Covering up all this hurt
And being bruised by it
Burying it under all my dirt –
All these other things –
Hidden in all my Words
When nobody’s listening –
And still I crave these things
That make me numb
The more I take of them
The worse I become
I lose myself in these
Over and over
Not just one –
The stronger I Rise
The harder it gets to overcome –

the boy who sold me dreams


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To the boy who sold me dreams.
You brought nothing to the table but
Your empty Words.
You breathed lies into me.
When you painted a perfect picture
Smiling only with your teeth.
For a second, it hurt me.
And then I realized I was strong
Even before you approached me –
You are the BOY who sold me dreams.
I have no time for kiddy games
So MAN up and stay the fuck away from me.


a little


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it shouldn’t be this easy
it shouldn’t come off as truth
I shouldn’t be able to present
myself in falsehood to you
you shouldn’t see the twinkle in my eye
and automatically believe I feel joy inside
and I shouldn’t be able to look at you
and confidently lie
and yet, this is how we Live
this is our Life
we have become so good at pretending
we have become so good at hiding
and this is a mission to unlearn
we’d rather watch our bridges burn
than try for a little honesty
a little Love
a little . . .
a little . . .