SOMETIMES I FORGET TO BREATHE.
THIS HAPPENS TO BE ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS.

Beanie You Are...

The air that I breathe
My reason for living
You are my stars in the sky
Every word in every book in all the world
You are the beat of my heart
The blink of my eyes
My favorite piece of candy J
You are the smile on my face
The laughter in my belly
You are the tears I cry at night
And the song that lulls me to sleep
You are my peace in the midst of the storm
The break in the clouds after the rain and
The rainbow that colors the sky
My sunshine
You are the smell of fresh baked cookies
And homemade apple pie
You are the blood in my heart that pumps through my veins
That gives me the strength to push through the pain
Beanie you are…
You are my everything.
I love you,
Mommy

"If Only Looks Could Kill" Brave New Voices 2010

Mountains and Molehills

　
You said I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.
But I made you a mountain when you really were a molehill. A tree of mere shrubbery. A weed amongst the roses.
And I know these words are harsh but I’m working with a prosthetic heart.
Venomous blood pumping through my veins
Numb. Impervious. Relentlessly unrelenting.
Basically I’m giving you exactly what you’ve given me over the years.
This is not vindication.
It’s just how I feel.
I don’t.
Feel.
Anything.
Anymore.
And yes, I have changed. But I’m still Nina. Cold as ice, hard as nails, no nonsense, no bullshit Nina.
This is the monster you created.
You broke me down to hurriedly put me together again. And now, like an old jigsaw puzzle, the pieces don’t fit like they used to.
We don’t fit like we used to.
That buttery shit that lovers do, we don’t do. Instead we give it to “others” and do.
I carried the weight for our demise.
Thought my shit was ruining what we had.
But how can I sabotage a mirage.
Should’ve never let you get that close to me.
I. gave. You. All of me. The very best of me.
Made. You. My. Life when I wasn’t even your wife.
While you gave me pieces of you in parts.
One word sentences. No word answers.
Everything was a mystery.
Consistent inconsistency
And I only seem to matter when it no longer mattered.
When I pushed myself through wait. Forced myself passed go.
No longer stifled by your absence or lonely in your presence.
Overreacting? I’m not reacting.
Anymore.

...I have a small frame but I come from a long lineage of big lips, hips, and asses.
Nigga my roots run deep.
No I am not Nicki Minaj thick. And I don’t have Kim Kardashian’s ass, but I am mutha fuckin beautiful.
So please, dear sir, spare me with your attempts to break me down to bring me down with your caveman thinking and your animalistic antics.
Do not compare me to the others of lovers you have or have had in the past.
I am in a class all my own. The mother of your child. Meant to be celebrated not berated or rated by the stigma of standards society has placed on women…
your women.



nina

I was told that i seem to express myself a lot easier through my writing, which, as of late, is quite true.
Anger and resentment, love and dangerous lust fueling the will of my pen...
This piece is evidence of such. It was written a few of months ago in response to a situation that had reached its limit...


The Door…

I can not seem to shake this constant desire to fulfill such an immoral fantasy.
I want him in my life and wrong or right, I won’t let up until he appears at my door
Arms outstretched ready to love me into submission, or fuck me into submission…
Which ever comes first.
AND burying these feelings or hiding my truths would be cowardice and completely out of character.
So I wear it on my chest. A scarlet letter (only green because that’s my favorite color)
A badge of dishonor and shame. Mental mutilation brought on by turbulent tribulations.
Killing myself with empty expectations.
Shit’s exhausting.
AND I am finding myself defined by a man rather than defining myself by the love that I truly am.
BUT the way he pulled me in that night at my door had me open, willing, and ready to explore every facet of WE
So I blame him for giving even the slightest inclination of an open invitation to
“come on in but close the door”
Because this tiny indiscretion was ours and ours alone.
AND every word that he spoke (or wrote because he rarely called) was like music to my ears (or my eyes although the eyes don’t hear)
SO I jumped in head first neglecting to read the fine print
I wasn’t trying to dissect his dialect
I was too busy falling in and letting go
Holding on to every syllable that pierced my soul.
THEN a change in disposition caught my full attention
HIS mental deviation left me in an awkward position.
While all I wanted was to kiss him
Grab a hold of him fuck the shit out of him and keep it moving…
As friends
Because wasn’t that his plan for me?
To screw me up against the wall repeatedly
Having his way with me physically, mentally, and emotionally
Bruising me?
BUT he did say he didn’t want to fuck me too hard because after all, I am fragileThe delicate flower that he wanted to devour…
Or was that my peach?
Either way it doesn’t matter because right now he’s far beyond my reach
And his formless thoughts are thoughtless and absent of any traces of me
AND the pieces of me that he stole are irreplaceable
As are the indelible whispers he left in my ear.
SO here I stand naked as the day I was born
Cloaked in confusion and shame
Praying for the day that I forget his name
And that door is just a distant memory.
　
　

“I think it takes most men [a little] more time to figure it all out . They will do exactly what you allow them to do, for as long as you allow…and if you get strong enough to stop rewarding inappropriate behavior, either he starts to evolve or he trades you in for a weaker model.”

— Ms. Erykah Badu

Why is it so difficult for people to open their mouths and say exactly how they feel? Filter free. To speak their truths whole heartedly without warrant or regret. Instead of hiding behind a mask of lies. Satisfied their fabricated-selves. Tragically afraid to unearth the authentic beauty that lies within the truth????