This love is messy
Us, trying to love each other, while being the remnants of blackness
While being the literal edge of an understanding at its breaking point
Loving through loveless fathers and broken mothers
Loving around each other like we’re still in cotton fields
Like we can’t rescue each other if we fall
Like at any moment, one of us will be ripped away
We spend more time forgiving each other than making love together
I’m always so afraid he’s going to end up in the arms of a serpent
One he’ll claim to accept his type of black more than me
One who’ll treat the mediocre like honey
and gives rewards of her own righteousness
Unaware that I praise his imperfections like music to dance to
That I find beauty in his breaking
I know what it looks like to see a man break
be fragile be weak
Be — Black,
And I hurt from the way you feel like you can’t be
a cracked layer of glass perched dangerously by the end
like you can’t unapologetically need me
That I can’t be feminine by design and masculine when it’s waranted
Like I won’t make space for you if the ship is sinking
and I don’t mean to feed from you
I feed off of you
and find myself in a position of birthing for you —
I gather the pains of the past and place priority in the repositioning of your purpose
If he’d purpose to allow me to be his partner
Not just his boo or his lady or his ride or die
But an equal investment into the possibility of whatever comes after tomorrow
This love is hard, I get it
Trying to let you be the type of man my father never was
And be the type of woman your mother couldn’t be
Wondering how deep we can let each other in before we are consumed by our own fires
before we get burned by our own flames
This is a most specific account of our love
while being a most general view of being black and being love
I’d like to think we make it
That we find ourselves sitting in our own home with our own kids
surrounded by our own love
You once told me you couldn’t see me in your future,
that everyday brought its own set of belongings and I wasn’t the type to fit in a suitcase
I can’t help but agree with you
Love is without walls
It’s too messy to live in any box
Excellent poignant, accurate depiction of love with someone who has not yet turned weakness to strength as many black women have had to find just to protect and survive. This is why we need black or whatever color that have found their place in God
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I appreciate your feedback. I had to let this one sit a few months and then come back to it. Had to be sure it was honest and not just written in the heat of the moment!
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Excellent
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Thanks!
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I love this. So. Much.
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Thank you! It’s been sitting a few months
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Marinating
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Yeah, I guess so!
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