Don’t Dream It’s Over
It’s been too
soon since yesterday
for me to miss
it so much
Too soon
since laughter
to be writing Dear Jane letters
to the pursuit of happiness
as though it’s too
far out the door
to hear me calling out to
it in quatrains
In the house that resilience
built
we burn white flags and
slow dance by the fire
We live like it’s meant
to last
but we don’t dream
it’s over
Death Poem
My rekindled fling
with the city beneath my feet
is but a teenage love
just a daredevil flame
held hostage with a matchstick
compared to the love I carry with me
Missing you like this
now
in life
leaves me longing
for our future
I can’t wait
to grow gray with you
I could build our sanctuary
if all the ways
I miss you
could be molded into brick and mortar
and we could be just us
until our skin doesn’t last any longer
until “Death do us part”
is a punchline
until days are just abstract thoughts
and we are just skeleton lovers
whispering sweet nothings
with the morse code of our bones
deciphering lullabies
rattling one another to sleep
until my affair
with the City of God
beneath my feet is just
an afterlife teenage love
compared to the death poem
we wrote together
Almost (She Coulda Been)
She coulda been
Soul Sista number one
Coulda hung the butterfly flutters of my
heart across rain soaked locks
of her ‘fro like a Christmas tree
with the gift of delicious discussion
underneath
Time coulda slept in
with the way minutes
seemed to procrastinate
as though
our words were
fresh friction beneath their feet
Hearts
coulda been djs
restless from stale same ol’ soliloquies
They started spinning intellectual
Mastermixes of conversation
That found courage to sail
In search of kindred frequencies
Six contortionist lifetimes
of daydreams
fit so comfortably into six minutes
they brought blankets
and pillows
just to lay and listen to us
pussyfoot around tension
Except now
me and time aren’t
exactly on speaking terms
since I let her get away
without the number
HPS Magazine 