he said she wanted to keep it simple...
nothing deep, just sex.
No strings attached....
no questioning, or pondering,
wondering what would come next.
You see he had been hurt far too often,
and far too often in most women
the same shit occurs.
So as i looked at him....
i looked into him....
seeing myself as the one
who would make all his past
relationships a blur.
i wanted to reinvent the wheel with him,
but simply put.......
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The painful stuff that I keep
2009© In the box in the back of my heart,
lives the painful stuff that I keep
It is covered with the black cloth,
and under all those rocks of time,some deep.
No one really knew what was in there but me,
I refused to share my shame with strangers,
I refused to engage in conversations that
open the wounds, and remind me of all the dangers.
So I hid these feelings and emotions in this box,
like a file...
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I AM I am not a
poet because I can write with complex metaphors that make you retrieve a thesaurus to decipher their meaning And because I am an activist of some kind Fighting for a cause that most folks don’t understand
I am not a
poet because I wear dreads long down my back Or rock an afro that hasn’t been combed in days And because I tattoo afro centric art on my body Or wear colors that don’t match trying to express some creativity
I am not a
poet because...
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