Dreams unspoken. A poem on life’s nighttime heartaches.

he brought her to my home.

he knew where I lived. he knew I still missed him.

And yet,

he brought her to my home.

There she sat, ugly at first sight.

“Chubby,” I thought. Not so cute as in the pictures she has on Instagram,

that I stalked

before she made her account private.

he brought her to my home.

Years of silence and dead air time between us,

I no longer know you.

And yet, with sight unseen. Words deaf, dumb and blind in the stratosphere of life on this planet, the jungle of former desire airbrushed into perfect epiphanies all over the legs of this would-be model…

you brought her to my mother f*ckin celestial house

If I’d been a classier lady,

I’d have let these words die in the night.

fain a smile on the medias of social and pretend like this never happened.

But as the devout-double dipped Christian I am not.

I was — yes

feenin’ for my own revival.

fixin’ for my day,

of reclamation

Parade into my dreams,

you will be dragged into my writings.

After all,

you brought her to my home.

 

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