Things Hoped For

There have been a few times in my life where I had that person I could without a doubt call my best friend. That person I knew I could count on no matter what. Knowing we would drop everything to make sure that the other never had to face difficulty, loss, heartbreak or any other thing we had to face alone if we didn't want to face them alone.

The last best friend I had is still on the planet but we barely speak these days. Correction, we haven't really had a conversation in years. And every once in a while (every day), I have the phantom pains of missing something that was once there. There was a trust broken and I guess believing she just left me hanging out there alone because of another's insecurity stings more now because I have all of this time to think these days. It wasn't that I felt I was more important or even as important but at the very least worth some consideration. Best friends for ten years and then one day, just like that, it's gone.

Twenty years later, I have friends. I have even found people I know, or believe could be a best friend. I have close friends, dear friends, like minded friends,and friends I'd drop everything to be there for. But no one that I feel like would be there for me come hell or high water, just because they wanted to, not because they felt obligated to. I know the reason I don't have that is mostly me. There is an ache in me that hurts everyday and the idea of another potential ache from losing someone I loved and still love results in panic attacks. The trust broken has me fearful of trusting not to be broken again.

We were not lovers we were just friends. The loss of a lover hurts a lot too, don't get me wrong, but nothing hurts like losing a friend. So I treat my friends carefully. I don't want to be too needy even though I need. I don't ask for their time and pretend not to be hurt when left out of things.

I do realize that pretending that my best friend leaving me behind, while I saw her every day, didn't hurt for ten years was the biggest lie I ever told myself. And that not opening myself up to be hurt by the people I love perpetuates that lie. So now I have all of this truth, and no one to really tell. Working out how to fix this and hoping it won't take twenty years.

That Girl and Her Damn Pearl Earring

So my two day dark-fest, mourning more than one loss, is waning. The brain is a tricky thing. Triggers find themselves in the strangest places. Dad's card, Lorraine's obituary and Jekonni's picture and his angel, finding themselves in the and out of the same box. The box I thought I'd forgotten about. Though, I can never forget them, those angels in plain sight, who left missing pieces in me. I felt you all in the museum today. Lorraine commenting, "How silly such a big room for such a small painting." Jekonni helping the elderly woman adjust her earphones using my hands. My dad whispering, "Lucinda Bunnen, remember she was one of you contributors the year you won that title, her art is hanging on the walls in this museum where in a week you will be teaching young people poems. You have all this behind and in front of you at the same time."
Then that moment when moved more by the memories than the art, the tears come again, the three of them snickering and giggling, "Now people will think the art moved you. You are so sensitive Theresa, so deep with all that emotion on your sleeve."
No one heckles quite as lovely as the dead.

I feel lighter y'all. Those missing pieces filling up with the new things I am living and learning, understanding that filling them will never remove you from my life.
Thanks.

Everyone Tells The Truth.?

There is a conversation happening on the book of face that I want to comment on but I won't because there seems to be this whole I'm right culture happening there. I know I am not always right I kind of assume others know this as well. They don't.

I remember when I was 17, there was this guy I had an on again off again thing with. It was strange. We kind of hated each other and argued constantly but then would find ourselves making wild crazy love on someone’s floor, or kitchen counter, or in the driveway. The relationship confused us both but, well, there we were. I tried really hard not to sleep with him when he and his girlfriend were together, but they broke up and got together again a lot, sometimes there was crossover.

As we approached spring break that year I was about to turn 18, they broke up again. This time it felt like it was for good. He said he was sick of the back and forth and I said I didn't care because we were not friends. We were just two people who fought a lot and had sex occasionally and sometimes a lot. They got back together after a day or two and were supposed to take this trip together over spring break.

She went with someone else. Now, to say that my not friend was pissed, would be an understatement. He paid for the trip and he wanted his money back. He fumed for days. At some time during the course of the week my dad talked to him, my friend Bridget's dad talked to him, and his dad talked to him. Basically they said, this was a sign to let that go. Let her, the money and everything go.

When school started back he ignored her. A few days in she apologized and suggested they start over. He said he wasn’t interested. She made a scene in the cafeteria, which was humiliating and embarrassing for everyone who was forced to witness it. Then she cried and begged and a host of other equally embarrassing things. That weekend there were several parties. We saw each other at one and left because we could feel drama trying to happening. We ended up back at my house. We drank Milwaukee’s Best (worst idea ever) to the point that my people were like you should stay on the couch tonight call your mom. When he called home, (this is before cell phones), his mother told him that the police were looking for him. His on again off again had called the police and said he beat and raped her at the party. We left the party before she even got there.

All that to say I never question in my heart when anyone says they have been assaulted, raped or attacked in any way. No one has the right to harm another.

I also can’t UN-know his story and I shudder to think what would have happened to this boy I barely liked had he not had an alibi that night.

My life with Zion, the love of my life!!

Zion in the middle of a flashback of the one month he went to day care when he was four, at the end of the, "We need to go there and if those women are still alive, we need to save the children because if they (the adults) are any thing like they were when I was there, a child is being spanked right now!"

Then he says, "Hey mom, did any black people die in Wolverine?"
"No Zion. A black bear bought it though."
Silence
"Mom, you know my favorite part of Wolverine?"
"No black people died?"
"So that was you're favorite part too! That proves it. I'm your son!"

So, I'll tell you if I haven't already, about when Zion walked out of the last last X-Men movie because the black character named Darwin, who is supposed to be able to adapt to his surroundings was killed. I believe the declaration as he stomped out of the theater was, "HOW THE HECK YOU GOING TO CALL THE BLACK CHARACTER DARWIN AND HIS POWER IS TO ADAPT TO HIS SURROUNDINGS AND HE DIES BECAUSE HE CAN'T ADAPT TO HIS SURROUNDING!!THAT'S IT!! I'M MAKING MY OWN MOVE AND GUESS WHAT MOM? EVERYBODY IN IT WILL BE BLACK MOM. AND GUESS WHAT MOM? NO ONES GONNA DIES!"

It was a very proud moment for me. I get all teary just thinking about it... That's my baby. Hercules, Hercules!!

Phone Date FAIL!!!####

The first one went well. Discovery, similar interests, closer to my age. This one started off fine. I told her how I just had dinner with my best boy friend The Ken of J, how I wanted to kidnap him to Savannah but he couldn't but it's in the plans for the future. She told me about her day and her plans for the rest of the weekend and we chat about plans to meet face to face next week.

She says, " Let's play a game. I am going to ask you a random question and you answer it then you can ask me one."
I think, great!Let's play.
The question is , " What is a reason you might give your partner flowers?"
I say, "Saturday. I am a romantic any day is a reason to give flowers or office products or whatever thing I am looking at that makes me think of my partner and that my partner should have it."
She says, "Awww, that's beautiful. You know I can count on my hands and not use all of the fingers the number of times my EX gave me flowers."
Then she documents the times. A lot!
I say, " Well, situations change and so do people. When would you give flowers or the like?"
She says, " Well, I have so little experience with that because my EX....."
I'm not sure how it happened but suddenly we are talking about her ex, and when I say we I mean she. For over an hour.

Now several things occur to me as I zone out of the conversation.

1 - I am tired of seeing/dating/fucking folks still hung up on their EX's.
2 - Internet dating kinda sucks.
3 - Why isn't there a class or something for this?
4 - I should paint this room.
5 - Is it that I am having some insecurity about breathing on the neck of fifty, that I think I will not be desirable and this is why I have put myself in this place?

I try to redirect. "What's the last movie you saw?"
"Well, my EX and I saw......"

?
?
?

Done.

I am lonely. But not this lonely.

Encounter #5

I pretend you don't exist sometimes
place your image in a box next to my heart
I pull you from my chest every once in a while
to be dazzled by your smile
resist the urge to sink
because you could drown me beautiful.

When you called today
I felt the shimmy under my ribs
heard the want in your voice
decided it might be safe to call you real
that my old-fashioned heart could
forget a decade plus and maybe
one day you'll call me cougar.

What I notice first is my need to write
make you etched and hope
push the "R" harder on this keyboard
so I know how Real this could be
and maybe I need these words
to remind myself not to be afraid
not to move too fast a known flaw
because you could drown me beautiful.

~Encounter #2

when she asks what I am feeling
I don't tell her
she doesn't really want to know
the question is so vague and my answer
could be unwanted shrapnel
lodged between breast bone
instead I ask for specifics
about the what and why
she smiles
asks for a kiss instead
that answer
I give freely
without question

sigh

The problem with falling for a friend
is that you won't know if it is love
till the moment you are about to lose her
forever.

Taher Shakir

Common Sense

I always find it interesting when people target groups of people having no idea what they are talking about. Like just because they say a thing, it is so! It’s pathetic really the amount of time spent spinning old yarns like if I spin it the right way it will somehow make sense this time. I won’t. The sweater is still too tight, too ugly and smells of lies, lied so long ago they just get more pungent in the re-telling.

It seems that the more we evolve (some of us), the more we de-evolve. I get that the idea of someone living their lives on their own terms is frightening but shouldn’t it be more frightening to the one living that life, not the one fantasizing on how other’s live their lives? I mean I don’t worry about how you are going to pay your bill. Those are YOUR bills. I am certainly not going to worry about what is happening (or not) in your bedroom. That’s YOUR bedroom!

So, unless respect for self and others has been out sourced with oh so many jobs, I’m thinking it’s your job to mind your business, not anyone else’s.

Bully Culture Alive And Well And on a Television or Facebook Status Near You!

We live in a world where we celebrate the bad and tear down the good. It teaches it's citizens to vilify and pigeon hole and hate. It pushes lies an almost fact until we are all full and we can't see the good in people. There are no perfect humans. They are going to churn this man who did something good until he is as bad as the man who held these women captive. And the other humans with the bad things in their backyards that no one has discovered because their good hasn't made the little big screen will help smear this muck around until that is all there is. He's a hero and only the most fucked of the human race would get off on circumventing the good to glorify the bad.
I haven't slept much or well in a few days so the filters are loose.

This is the shyt that makes people not want to help each other and it's fucking bullying. When a society actively publicly bullies why the fuck is the same society shocked that it is a popular thing with the kids they have taught so well. It's the equivalent to the boy who slapped me in middle schools because he said I was too smart for my own good always getting A's and shit. The only difference he was one guy, what do you do when it's a nation bullying you? When it's one guy you can ambush his ass later try some of the tricks you learned in martial arts and threaten to cut off his goody parts and stuff them down his throat if he ever even thinks about touching you again. He won't be able to use my tactics on the nation. I personally am only going to share the positive. There is too much negative in this world I refuse to contribute. Now I get to add this to the other sad, thanks America.

32/30 Ethereal

There is a place inside of me unreachable by normal means
but normal hasn’t lived here in many years
so you may not recognize that objects
are not as close as they appear
and you are not as close as I thought
could be I need a stronger prescription
or my vision suffers from acute rose colored tint.

There was a time when I zombied my way through my existence
believing rejection was an anagram of my name
regardless of the lack of similar letters
I would write poems
hang them around my room
pretend they were mirrors
every once in a while I’d glimpse my own reflection
I’d wave and sometimes I waved back.

There was a winter when I felt less myself than usual
I took a walk without a coat
shivered myself calmer
held myself like a lover and in that instance
I wasn’t alone in my loneliness
I have never been truly warm since.

There is a place inside of me sometimes I scream in there
the echoes feel like pulse
so loud I cover my ears
but I am the only one who feels the terror of it
the only one who hears
this is probably a good thing.

31/30 Transparent

back in the bad old dark days
when I wore invisible
like forgotten in the margins
like a fancy shiny party dress
perfect for dancing
with a plunging neckline
to show off my self-esteem
slits up to my thigh
make-up thick like war paint
or the undertakings of undertakers
dead in my flesh
but hoping to catch your eye
you never remembered me
when I wore it
so I threw the dress away

now
every once in a while
like a haunting
someone else wearing your eyes
does not remember me
standing right there
invisible
and I feel that dress
the plunging neckline
a noose choking the breath
out of me
it does not fit the way it used to
something I cannot afford to be comfortable in
forgettable

besides
no one dances anymore

30/30 Do you have morals

my reaction
was not so much about the question
more about what you wanted to ask
but didn't

you were not concerned about my principles
or the distinction between right and wrong
you were calling me wrong
hoping my response would make you right

and it's sad really
me expressing conveying my truth
you judging
have I mentioned
I love the way you judge
the way you know wrong and right
because of the mere fact that
you are male and straight
quoting scriptures with that drink in your hand
Looking all sinful but with soul

but me
I'm too classy
won't ask if you've ever cheated on you wife
driven while high or imbibed
have you ever made a move
on someone young enough
to be your daughter
or fudged on your taxes
cut someone off in traffic
ever lied stole or gambled
because if i asked those
would be real questions
unlike the one you posed to me
I might be over reacting the way females do
and those lesbians they all radical and fringe

Now had you asked
do I conduct myself in such a way
that hundreds of parents entrusted
me with co-parenting privileges
or does anyone see me beyond my sexuality
or if the children I birthed and raised
hold my name in their hearts tight
or is it a fact that I can conform but choose not to
mostly because I refuse to be vague
in my existence

so excuse me
if I don't answer you question
but when you get brave enough
to ask the one lodged in you throat
the one tangled in your homophobia
when you ask the right question
trust me
I will have the right answer

29/30 What Some See As Hopeless

the problem with being a romantic
is that even though the siren song
blares it's warnings all ten decibels
a sound that clearly means
danger is ahead and you should run the fuck away
and on the faint of heart it works
they actually heed the warning
they avoid the sharp rock action
they head for calmer seas

but we romantic types
we run towards the sound
look for the storm clouds a smile
wrapped around sharp edges
we get just a little bit closer
closer, closer to the edge look over it
size up the fall decide well,
it isn't that far and besides our love
is so pure powerful
we feel a little indestructible
believe we can survive the rocks
choke our way through the waves
endure the storm
hell, we are lightning strike proof
and if we get destroyed
the more fanciful of us know
that at least we will look poetic
broken body strewn about the beach and
I'm so in love with you
spelled out in the sand in blood
seeping from our opened mouth
the same color of our hearts

i mean
we know we won't die
but there is just something
maybe
it's the color of you
the shape of your smile
that flutter kick stutter
thing that happens when our eyes meet
and the world tips
that's what does it
kills us every time

28/30 Digging For Lost Gold

so much of what happened
could have been avoided
a simple no
a withdrawal of eye contact
removal of the cables
before they attempt to
jump start old business
not accepting your friend request
that is what I should have done
had i done that actually listened
to my shoulder angels
both of them screaming
you know fucking better
with their flares and sirens
had i listened
so much of this could have been ignored

but honestly,
i don't think it could be avoided
i don't think i wanted to avoid it
i know i wanted to jump in
knew it was the deep end
but i was a fucking lifeguard once
and if i can save others surely
i can save myself plus
i wanted to see if for who it was in real time
wanted to touch it make it say my name again
hold it close again whisper in its ear
hands on my hips strapped in pleasure
breaking beds and climbing walls

i didn't avoid it because i
wondered if i sprawl under her
all X marks the spot my geography
all its boarders wide open
if she would remembered where
my treasure was buried
and plunder


she did

27/ 30 Sista's Grimm

she wants me to tell her a story
one full of dreams and hopes
white knights and fairytale fantasies
but I don't know those stories

I know of hurt and sorrow
sin and sex in and out of closets
tears and healing and what's for dinner
why is this house not clean
and are you going to answer that
with your straight gay face
tone it down bury yourself invisible
claw through your own heart
to surface breathe stuck in lungs
and sweat and fear
these are the stories that haunt me
trip off my tongue bullets and fury

she begs for a story
I warn her with my straight gay face
that my stories are full of guts and vulnerability
lost loves and fallen angels
heartstrings pulled to distortion distraction
shipwrecks, siren songs pit bulls and pirates
that take more than they give
pull you off center scatter your thoughts
break you and pisses on your future
while kissing you on the mouth
some would call them demons
dress them in colors all dark
and fangs shrouded in hind sight
they descend these stories sometimes
from place inside me where I hide
them and they surface all jack in the box
knock me off metaphorical horses
and punch people in their faces

I tell her all the ugly
pick at all the scabs let her watch
the ooze and glitter pull open my chest
show her my soft broken places
the punctures and broken promises
I bare myself naked show her my geography
highlighting the rough terrain trace my
stretch marks connect the dots of every mole
every blemish all the dirt and I wait for her
to walk away show me her polite retreating back
tether myself to the earth so her evacuation
will not leave me depleted

she surprises me
pulls open her chest shows me her
soft broken places guides my hand inside
invites me to stay tells me that those stories
the ones full of dreams and hopes
white knights and fairytale fantasies
without the hurt and helplessness
that real people feel in real time have
always frightened her

she wants the story where the two
heroins bring their hurt together heal each other
in the telling rediscover the beats in their hearts
unashamed of who knows
kissing in the light and pride
holding even when they both are accustomed
to letting go and disappointment and shame
I tell her I don't know that story
she tells me she doesn't know that story either
figures we can write one together
and gives me her pen

26/30 Cadaver

when you get the time
remove my corpse from the cold
lay me out
like you always do
you know the texture of my bones
my flesh goose under your touch
make sure the scalpel is sharp
so the incision is clean and “Y” perfect
when you cut through my rib cage
don’t go to any expense any
pruning shears you might find
at any random hardware store will do
you will need the leverage
to lift my chest plate and cut through
my heart
my lungs
my liver exposed
put your hands in deep
don’t bother to wear gloves
you have been here before
left you marks and bruises
enjoy the art of it
analyze and weigh
excavate the organs you want to display
frame them
hang them on a wall
walk by and view them from time to time
donate them to a museum
so everyone can see
what messy art you make

25/ 30 Everything She Wants

it started as a dare
you soon learned not to dare me
to do anything that wouldn't result in death
we became marathon runners
check list risk takers
we would have sex
everywhere

my favorite was in the elevator
both times
the first all concealed and safety
the second all glass open
like we were saying
watch me world as I go up and down
at the same time

it pleased you that I wasn't afraid
didn't know I was supposed to be
didn't know that the idea of two girls together
the way we two girls were together
might cause others to want to harm us
so wrapped up in the magic
I created scenarios to tease the sex out of you
the feathers were fun
adding honey not my best idea
and yes we ruined my sheets
and yes I let you leave for work
a feather stuck to your back
giggled thinking about how you would explain

I still have some of that in me
and there are times when I find myself
in places we made it in
and wonder where you are
when’s the last time you
fingered a girl at a ball game
or made love on a rooftop
I was in that elevator the other day the glass one
memory made my whole body blush
I could feel your breath in my ear whispering
I dare you

24/30 Shining Star

The year I turned ten St. Louis was a recent memory
Georgia red clay under foot mass exodus
to the black mecca of the south I was transplanted.
That year I became a southern bell
scraped knees and too thin.

Music was my everything in those days
my transistor in my pocket shaky reception grooving.
I wore ponytails back then and plastic shoes chasing down
the ice cream man in perfect rhythm.

School days filled with southern drawls that made me question
the English language the letter “r” in words where they did not belong.
The subtle differences of being black in the south
my northern fighting on playgrounds a different kind of civil war.

There seemed to be more sky here more future and forever.
Our roots the same growing in different dirt reshaping our tree.
I used to sit in the window listen to the city sounds my boom box tuned in.
While Earth Wind and Fire sang me into the world.

You're a shining star
No matter who you are
Shining bright to see
What you could truly be

23/30 when the moon is full and you remember

when the moon is full and you remember
those nights when our skin was the same
where you ended I began we could not tell
did not want to know

I was lighter then
my spirit not this weighed down vessel
feeling the best and worst at the same time
when love was simple
and you said it
you said you loved me
and I believed
how could you touch me like this
if you did not love me
stars in my eyes for you
blind and deaf ears

you did not mean it
not completely
I figured this was your way
of punishing me
to prove some point
I would never understand
because you would never explain
and now I do not want to know
the why of it

the aftermath has left me
second guessing myself
happy out of my reach
filled me with the fear
that every next lover
will not love me
the way you did not
even when they say they do
so I am afraid to act
afraid of my own tongue

the sting of rejection
is the gift that keeps on giving
the one you cannot return
it takes up so much space
my heart is full of it
and the scars are fresh
and open and seeping
and sad
and unworthy
and longing
and lonely
and you

when the moon is full and you remember
remember that time you taught me a lesson
I will never forget