Who is this guy I'm talking about? [Ladies, brace yourself. Fellahs, feel free to envy.] Now, if my heart could show you a photo of my love, it'd be a mix of three pictures...
The creator of the sonnet, the haiku, and the prose. The man whose wit runs deeper than any other person that I've ever met. A daily pursuit of mine is to find new avenues that he'll divulge more of his mind.
He. Fascinates. Me.
Simply because I didn't realize that a guy such as he actually existed. I'd hoped...but I wasn't sure...and I am so thrilled to have a reliable open door into his thoughts. And he shares willingly with me. I see no end to his brainpower. No lid up top other than his skull. Beyond that, the sky is really the limit. He challenges me to think, examine, reflect, imagine, and dream. I am never bored by our conversation. Even in those calm moments where we say nothing, he always manages to speak to me.
"Poetry Book (Part One)"
i run my hands across your poetry book.
feeling its texture
as you once did
my hands are where your hands
so...it's like you are touching ME.
i thumb through the pages in your poetry book.
one by one.
imagining that each new page is
as promising to me as they were to you
and you hold nothing back
so...it's like you're filling my empty spaces
i trace my fingers across the words written on the pages in your poetry book
left to right
to jagged lines
one after the other
as if my hand is holding
the pen that you held
to write these words
so...it's like you are holding me
...lay me. across your lap.
touch me. search me.
fill. complete me.
and hold me...
...like I am your poetry book.
Second, there is the one that consistently surprises me:
Weak knees & numb hands are just the beginning. He is unconsciously adorable and unintentionally sexy. While some ladies would turn their nose up at his wide smile, strong arms, and intuitive eyes; I could not be more lured. He tries his best as a boyfriend, but I am shocked that he cannot see how naturally the Lover inside of him flows. Now, I am not even meaning in a sexual manner, technically. Truth be told, that's a fruit we haven't yet tasted of...and yet...my experiences loving him and being loved by him tells me that he is the best lover I have ever had.
"A Hangover's Daydream'
I see silhouettes of lovers holding hands, exchanging gazes, and
At this flaunt of emerging and bursting love,
I smile and I concur.
Sneaky public displays and quaint duos tangled in fondness
Only generate memories that hint at my own affair.
Warmth is meticulously duplicated inside of me
[Taken from the eyes of those who have made the same discovery
And is spread from end to end.
My wit became congested
Morphing the very spot where I stood.
Distorted and blinking I look around
Thinking I sensed his scent and
Felt the brush of his fingertips next to my cheek.
Taken aback I staggered
Drunk from affection
Inebriated due to the reminiscence of my love's presence
Lacking all sobriety
I collect each piece of my recollections of him and
Stumble my way towards the place he resides
To make our dream reality.
Lastly, the part that has come to be the foundation of our relationship: The Jedi.
I've touched the hands
of a revolutionary.
and a catalyst
I've kissed the lips
of a revolutionary.
a potential name
Not one amongst
the legions of those
bound by the streets
and chained to a mindset
he pumps his fist
but he's holding
He's the epitome
of Black Pride.
Confusing the masses
Because he maneuvers just fine without
The gun on his hip
And the chip on his shoulder.
Pointing no fingers
and expecting no hand-outs.
With feet firm.
His convictions are deeply rooted.
His sights see beyond the Struggle.
His age inconsistent
of his wisdom
But oh. How his father
his eyes were just as clear.
He doesn't just know of revolution
or hope for revolution
or front with the cap wearin' and slogan shoutin' revolution
He thinks revolution
I'm loved by the spirit of
too good for this world.