the worst thing about lovebreak is waiting for all the smells to leave. his nicotine in the back of your throat. his must in your linens. the Myers Clean Day candle he gave you that you cant seem to stop burning when you're sweeping and mopping his smells out of your home.

The Good Boy

He keeps his head bowed
not low enough that you can step on his neck and not high enough so that you can see the specks of sun that get caught in his brow.
That you can see in the center of his eyes is a pool of ghosts swirling colors into a murky brown-blue,
but just so,
so he can carry his gait along with his briefcase to fit inside the door, so he doesn't hit his head on the upper ledge of the frame from standing too tall, back too straight, his gaze too narrowed ahead to fit inside this room where everything on him will shrink once he sits into his chair, surrounded by the box almost the size of the one he carries, and the one he sits in coming to work, and the one he crams into on his way home, and the one he eats and sleeps in. The boxes that are rooms that come with doors he chooses to fit in to, lowering himself just enough and sustaining himself just enough to fit in.

I asked him to bury me alive, thinking we were playing in the sand, as if a relationship were a beach in front of an ocean, we laid there unassuming for fun, letting our surroundings collect on top of us, being in his home, at his favorite restaurant, with his friends, listening to his worries, holding his dreams, celebrating their arrival--while my shoulders, my lungs, my sight caved underneath him.  

Yesterday:
i was given the love i have been waiting for
and then told I will probably have to wait for it a little bit longer.
i told a Guide she was not able to truly see me and we let each other go.
i woke up this morning before dawn thinking that the burn she gave me was a fire i am meant to allow to burn all the way through to see the me that is on the other side. And while burning i am meant to hold on to these words, "Trust you are loved and respected. Do not let anyone violate you."i am meant to hold on to one without letting go of the other while a fire works to get through me.
i am willing this morning to allow her to be a Guide in my relationship with the love i have been waiting for, the one who i will need to continue to wait for while he gives me the love in time. even though i believe she does not See me for my whole self--i will have to trust i am loved and respected, and not let anyone violate me, while i wait for love, and let love reign no matter what--to know it is reigning. no matter what.

Love sits still inside of right now yet doesn't demand everything be right now.

Love knows that your Shining Light is its Own.

Love lets its fortune be known only to share it with you. 

Love makes room for you in the sandbox and asks if you can play together.

Love enjoys thee way not 'my way'.

Love treats obstacle as opportunity.

Love knows how many times it has been forgiven vs. the times it has done the forgiving.

Love attracts the answer.

Love sees the road that hasn't even been paved.

Love believes in Itself.

for him.

he needs harvest so he comes to her. she, a farmland, lying untouched since the last time she curled back her seeds into the soil. its softness the only thing on earth she trusted. she opened her earth to him, gave him food straight from her root. and he hovered over every sign of life in her and devoured it. her land now barren from his hunger.

but she has re-soiled. and he, in another name, in another skin, same him, has come back hungry. she knows the hollow sound of his boots over her face. she is tempted to spread open for him again. to show him how he can bear earth on earth. how to re-source. how to give him back to himself. find land within him. but she lets him pass by slow, losing weight till he passes for another piece of earth. she wont break through layers for him anymore. not until he sits down on her earth, prepares a place for them to meet, asks her would she bring food she has made because he will bring food of his own. and their first meal will be one they've made together.

-how daddy and i met. he was something new.

this morning i felt a pain in my stomach. on the right side. i placed my fingers there to ease it out. it moved. i followed it towards the bottom of my belly where i am as firm as a unripened mango. my uterus widening since we met that rainy night in the city of brother love. we had no place else to go in that tiny bedroom. we did not want to go anywhere else but inside each other. and walls collapsed, doors to other rooms opened. now my fingers follow a pain i am trying to ease for her or him and me and you. it does. it leaves as soon as i detect a heart beat, as tiny as the room we made it in.

i want to be alone right now. i'm so clear about this. and i am pregnant.

i think of separating yokes with him sometimes. just until it thins. till it appears we're about to break. except we stay runny and loose till we are so clear and weightless we seem invisible.

sometimes i just want us to thin out. me seated in the center of a green field covered in 6 feet high grass in Iowa.  sun at my back. in prayer with a passing breeze. Him at his desk in Brooklyn in front of the computer seated in his grind, concrete, and very little grass.

sometimes i want to be alone. in baldwin's another country. i want this without the empty breeze in the corners of me that are cold instead of cool when he does not fill them like he does now. i want alone without lonely. without the silence i want to speak back, hear his keys in the door, place his hands in my nook, spoon me to sleep. i want alone with him. around.

i saw a curved, naked branch today. it helped me forgive. it looked as if just before its back was broken it found a way to yield.