Domesticated Abuse

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

A flash of his smile had me going insane

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

Held in his arms, I’d finally been claimed.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

My heart in my chest, I tried to maintain.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

Professing his love in poems.. and he was lame.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

Passionate about the issues, the fire to my flame.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

Then one day he asked me to take his last name.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

The white dress and attention similar to fame.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

But behind closed doors. It was all just a game.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

Degrading words flew out like bats from a cave.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

The tears fell faster when he forced it in my brain.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

Crying in my hand I remembered Rec1aim.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

Blood on my clothes I tried to remove the stains.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

My heart beat fast when I broke from the chains.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

It was a new year but it had ended the same.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

His grip was so strong and there I remained.

Red roses, back rubs and champagne,

Right by his side when I blew out my brains.Screen Shot 2016-10-20 at 12.15.20 AM.pngScreen Shot 2016-10-20 at 12.16.54 AM.png

I like my men how I like my coffee…

Six foot one. Dark skinned. Beard? Long.

Intellectual conversations. White smile. Head game? Strong.

I never had a type. But, now I definitely do.

When we first met, I didn’t think it was you.

I may be ‘corny’ writing love poems in books,

But this is where I hide whenever I feel ‘shook’.

My heart is still closed but my arms are wide open,

while your body is between my thighs strokin’.

Nice guys finish last and you were never first.

Couldn’t even tell by the way I ripped that shirt…

In the morning? Coffee, no sugar, no cream.

Careful not to hurt yourself playing with the steam.




I needed time to heal. Don’t you see?

You fell in love with a shell. That wasn’t me!

It was two a.m the first time I pulled up.

It was two a.m. the second time. And you ain’t give a f*ck.

Running out of time. In six hours I needed to be at work.

Instead I fought you. As you rubbed my heart in the dirt.

At two a.m. I should’ve been reading my homework assignment.

At two a.m. you recited my obituary and signed it.

At two a.m. I should have been in bed,

not thinking, not dreaming, but resting my head.

No. At two a.m. I was with you just to prove,

that I had always been here and didn’t want to lose,

you. What it could have been was your fantasy.

What it truly was. Is. My prophecy.

At two a.m. I died again.

You may have Trumped me, but love wins.

Real Encounter with God

They say when it rains it pours and where there’s thunder, there’s a storm.

So be thankful for the power and courage to return to the norm.

Forever second-guessing and my mind was always torn,

seemingly lost like in October’s adventure through a maze of corn.

Asking: what is the purpose? What for? Why was I born?

Private thoughts exposed, shining lights on me lorn.

His face then beamed through and he sworn,

That the clouds were claiming my old ways. I mourned.

2:00am Prelude

At two a.m. I walked out of the club.

At two a.m. is when brother’s show you love.

At two a.m. the lights come on. Clubs closed.

At two a.m. filled with light and dark, I chose.

At two a.m. I wondered off to where you were.

At two a.m. I’d discovered you’d been with her.

At two a.m. the bat shattered your windows.

At two a.m. all I’d heard were sounds of trouble.

At two a.m. I died, again and again.

At two a.m. a phoenix rose. Love wins.


Fiery Tale

Land of the free, home of the brave-

a chant that’s engraved in our brains,

forgetful of the enslaved that came over in chains,

and which descendants profited from their strain?

The line would imply it is the ‘free’,

yet one was found hanging from a tree,

every twenty-eight one dies in the street

and lest not forget the largest percent of missing

black women, Are. You. Listening?

Fine like China

F- for fabulous

R- for reminiscing about the good times

I- for incredulous indiscretion that’s kept between us

E- for everlasting love for a sister-like mind

N- for the nefarious memes we used for crack attacks

D- for deliverance from things we didn’t know held us back.

For this FRIEND of mine i’ve shared thirteen years with,

the first person I told about my first kiss.

From smacking the tetherball around the pole, to

tossing the ball, missing and having to chug a brew.

From crying about the loss of other friendships

all the while strengthening our kinship.

From CHINA to AFRICA lands across seas,

back to Cincinnati with hearts on our sleeves.

Skype dates, phone calls and ten to twenty page texts.

And the water weight on shoulders because of an ex.

To: My Seoul Sister-Friend I just wanted to thank you!

-This poem is old, I hate you because you moved…