He called me from her house on my birthday
It was years ago but I remember it today
I should’ve known he was a liar, should have trusted my instincts
When something turns sour, my God how it starts to stink
Of betrayal
Tag Archives: national poetry writing month
Rum
Rum was my first drink of choice when I realized my life was falling a part
I needed something to help me medicate
Today’s sips still flavored with brokenness and divorce. ..
I’ve since changed course, I chug whiskey now
Because life is a son of a bitch
I need that bit of grit
To get by
Between Death and Solace
She often drank wine
As an elixir, she prayed
That it would fix her
Or calm the voices
In her head, she wished for death
…or maybe solace
Birthdays in Your Thirties
Go shawty, it’s your birthday
Gonna party like it’s your birthday
Gonna feel empty like it’s your birthday
You’ve done nothing with your life but it’s your birthday
Ayyyyye!
To the Restaurant that Doesn’t Serve Bacon After Noon
To the restaurant that doesn’t serve bacon after noon
Fuck you
Who are you to confine bacon to a box that’s not Styrofoam to keep my bacon hot for me to take home
You are the same forces of evil behind happy hour
I don’t need a certain time slot to be happy
I have joy as long as a drink is in me
You cannot control the amounts of alcohol that I choose take in
And when
Just as you can’t regulate quality time with my new delicious friend
Or even begin to understand the lust, the trust the faith I have in
bacon
Unexpected
I wish I had saved all of those text messages
You were so corny and I didn’t know that I loved it yet
I didn’t know your “good morning, pumpkin” wasn’t just to get some pussy
It was a mark of your consistency; a reflection of how often you think of me
You weren’t gaming me
you were simply
Being yourself
Here on Earth
I am convinced heaven exists solely in his arms
Head on chest to hear soulful sounds of nature
His long sinewy limbs are my tree of life
His marijuana laced lips tastes of the eighth wonder of the earth
Of dodged bullets, healed wounds and new birth
He is a miracle
Shatter
Before you taste her
Remember broken pieces
Of me… are now yours
Belly (Excerpt)
So when he wraps his calloused hand around my neck, stares down at me with beauty reflected in his eyes
I feel it
Because big girls deserve love, and great head and bomb ass sex
But when he trails his palms down the length of my body I no longer feel cocky I’m in a panic
The extra sand in my hour glass is too much pressure, its beginning to crack, I am unraveling
His hand traveling on a mission to touch down on my sagging belly flesh
He skips the caress and grips it with urgency
Continues to stare at me in wonder and I resent his courtesy
He was not touching me, he was knee deep in something he would probably never understand
His hand gripping at the nucleous of my pain…
Marley (Haiku)
Do you think of me?
arched back under your caress
…tastes of loneliness
WG's Embrace the Crazy 