#wetheblackpoets

[shewalksonstars]

Passion, Intelligence, Sincerity, Maturity, Compatibility

[theblackpoets]

If Only I Could Kiss You

If Only I Could Kiss You...

Then You Would Understand The Words That I Never Get To Speak

The Taste Of Forever That Lingers On My Lips Each Time I Lay My Eyes On You

If Only I Could Kiss You

Youll Know How My Soul Dances To Your Voice...

If Only I Could Kiss You

There’s A Special Kind Of Stimulation

That Can Only Be Felt When Our Lips Align

Please Dont Be Afraid Of

Being In Sync With Me

If Only I Could Kiss You

We Would Have The Power To Grant Our Own Wishes To Reality

That A Shooting Start Is Too Immature To Fathom

11:11 Is Our Time Always

If Only I Could Kiss You

You Could Taste The Vulnerability That Im Scared To Speak

Its A Horror Movie For Me

And I Dont Want To Be Apart Of Another Scene Where The Black Man Dies

I Need To Change My Mind

Can You Be There While I Do So?

If Only I Could Kiss You

We Both Would Be Naked Without Taking Clothes Off

Vulnerability Would Be The Secret Ingredient Embedded In Our Love Language

You Are Safe With Me , Not Just In My Arms But Also In My Heart.

If Only I Could Kiss You

Worries Of Betrayal Would Be Suspended From Our Hearts

You Will Know Who I Am As A Man

And I Will Understand You As A Woman

We Will Be The First Fairy Tale To Sneak Its Way Into Reality

And This Kiss Will Be Our Happily Ever After

IG: @SirAbstraxxx

Tumblr: sirabstraxxx.tumblr.com

[justoutherepoeting-blog]

justoutherepoeting

[theblackpoets]

split

It’s been 479 days since

the rape. I’m trying to

get better about consistently

using that word when I

talk about it, because that’s

what happened to me.

and it’s harder for me to

believe it actually happened

if I can’t even use the

word. it’s an ugly, awful,

unforgivable word, and it’s

part of me now. part of

this story I’m still figuring

out when and how to tell.

but, it’s my story, so those two

considerations are always

up to me. both of me.

there are two of me now.

the woman I didn’t realize

I needed to protect, and the idealist

renegade I’m still fighting

to hold on to. the me from

that night...she’s quiet

most of the time: curled up

in a ball at the bottom of my throat.

her silence an act of

protest when I rage against

a normal I still try to

swallow. but she

won’t let me fall asleep until I

remember. until I vow to

safeguard the jagged

pieces of our story. the ones

neither one of us can

ever outrun, even if she

wanted us to. I slept through

the night this week. we both

did. her wounded howl

relentlessly haunts the

midday stillness, but she can’t help

it. it’s been 479 days, and we

won’t stop searching for the

sunlight. whatever light we

can find. I think that’s

called a miracle.

[theblackpoets]

[theblackpoets]

Dealer's Choice

you ever flip through your emotions like a deck of cards that only have the joker?

shuffle and shuffle and always feel a little funny about what comes up

there’s a giggle in your sadness

a showing of teeth in your anger

pulling back of the lips in panic

the dips in your face someone once called laugh lines look like two bows with no arrows

think it not a weapon

I just say there’s no way to aim

no point

no action to be made

no way to know where to hit

but you feel the sting anyway

tears rain on your cheek like fists

you become purple by morning

dry throat

busted lip

hands bloody from trying to pick out the darkness

the artistry on your arms looks caged

blade marks say here

here is where you can suck out the poison

let it fill your mouth like cement coffee

roll the rubbish to the backs of your jaw

swallow hard

this is how you make happy

this is how the joker becomes the king

how the punchline becomes the comic

how the the sorrow slinks back into itself and apologizes for intruding

maybe this is how I recover

how I am to build what should’ve been out of the wreckage

the stain glass church windows

the pulpit of my heart

sanctuary

where i’ve met peace

and God

and the Devil too

sometimes they fight

in the morning i’ll tell you who won

[theblackpoets]

Forget Me Not

[theblackpoets]

Forgotten Love

I write the best when I'm emotional. 

Truth is I know what love is and I've seen it before in multiple forms. I've felt pain at full force, I've seen love rear an ugly course. 

As I attempt to put my heart back together again, I find myself forcing interest into obsession. 

I find myself trying to find what I had in you, in all other partners. 

I do not want you back. My god I just want a feeling. I just want to feel drunk on conversation, high on teenage tension. 

Everyone I meet is lifeless. Fake goals, fake ambition, fake fears. 

It seems I try to create a false connection, with everyone passes me by. Even strangers, when they look me in the eye. 

Young and attractive it has never been a struggle for me to find someone. Quick conversations, and intimate situations are commonplace. 

But knowing someone is a struggle for I am so much more complex than most people expect. 

For I am not simple, I am everything under the sun. 

I wake up every morning plotting how to be someone, greater, bigger, stronger. 

Despite all the accomplishments, and confidence at the end of the day I still long for that feeling. 

That feeling I once had that is forever disappearing. 

I wish there love in every face that I met, but I refuse to love someone in discontent. 

I refuse to love without reciprocity. I refuse to love because of the way you taught me. I refuse to love because I love me. 

[theblackpoets]

[theblackpoets]

Social media love

How many likes equals love?

I can’t find unconditional love so I replace it with conditional likes.

Consistently- or I’ll get lost in the timeline.

How many comments equals a genuine conversation?

And once I get them will they all be meaningless exchanges of compliments and “thank yous”?

Replacing meaningful conversations with lols and heart eyes.

Right now, this is the closest that I can get to love and conversation. So, I’ll keep posting. I’ll post whatever you want. Masking my insecurities with filters, placing my hand here to cover this, standing this way to disguise that. All too maximize the fleeting love and attention.

With every like, every flattery, every emoji my self esteem rises. My phone buzzes with validation and I feel seen.

But that feeling is fleeting as the adoration starts to slow down.

The recognition comes less and less as I sink further and further down the timeline until it finally stops when I’m officially old news.

[theblackpoets]

[theblackpoets]

A “Lit” Night

A night full of bad decisions and revelations

The drink pours

then your heart pours out to me

Smoke fills the air

The thick clouds escaping your lips as you speak

Replacing the clouds that hang over our heads

We’re happy for the moment

The weed fills our empty conversations with laughs

The alcohol fills our empty hearts with lust

And then you let my soul fill you

Now we’re forever tied

Soon after, the white clouds clear and are replaced with our original rain clouds

The lust in our hearts is satisfied and it’s meaningless departure leave us feeling desolate

Laughter is replaced by silence

Then you leave

While I search my phone for another hit of happiness.

[theblackpoets]

at night.

 3:42am

 Something plagues me

                                                                                       I never sleep anymore,

 I don’t eat. I can’t exercise.                                       

                                                                               All that my life was is gone.

 I used to see a beautiful girl who smiled a lot. 

 Her laugh was infectious and her voice melted my heart. She sped by,   always on some adventure, I’d say. Her eyes, always sparkling with   mischief.

 I loved her. 

                                                                     But I never knew it until I lost her. 

 I want her back more than anything. 

                                            But I’ve never seen someone rise from the dead. 

 There’s a new girl now, one that reminds me of the beautiful one,   

                                                                               though she isn’t the same. 

 She feels the pain of a world in her heart and mind. 

 She inhales poison like fresh air and dances on shards of glass. Her eyes   are a glimmering black that she uses to peer up at the sky and imagine   plummeting downwards, like a meteorite. 

                                                                                       She can’t even speak.

 Only spoken to. 

 Spoken to by her mother who cries herself to sleep at night, tears seeping   into the spider fractures turned shambles that are her life and marriage. 

 Spoken to by her father, who pays in grey and green for that which his wife   cannot. 

 Spoken to by her brother who resents the man his mother brought into his   life who is unable to say, “I love you as I love mine.” 

 Spoken to by the love of her life, who doesn’t want his own anymore. 

 With each word, she cracks. 

                                                                        But, this one cracks differently. 

 No slits in her exterior give insight to her inside. 

 No beat is missed in a way that exposes her hatred of the tune.

 No hair out of place implies that it shouldn’t be there to begin with, no. 

 With each word, she breaks from within until the day. 

                                                                Until one day, you won’t even know. 

 Until you see her shatter.

[theblackpoets]

[theblackpoets]

Can’t fill the void

When you left, you took a part of me with you.

A piece of my being.

A part that I didn’t think I needed,

A piece that I didn’t appreciate until it was gone.

When you left, you left a void.

You threw my world off it’s axis,

Took away the equilibrium in my universe,

And left behind a black hole that sucks the joy from what my life has left to offer.

No one seems to notice this gaping emptiness in my existence,

I mask it with a synthetic smile, and forced laugh.

Everyone else seems so happy and whole, I can’t let them see the real me,

Damaged and incomplete.

But I can’t go on like this much longer.

I desperately try to fill the hole with things I thought would satisfy me,

Alcohol,

Drugs,

Money,

Women.

But this hole was too great to be satiated by such petty entities.

Nothing in this world could replace what you took from me...you’re love.

Now I scramble to find a new love to replace the one I foolishly let get away,

But none seem worthy.

None seem deep enough to replace the one that haunts me.

One by One, they get sucked into the void and disappear as quickly as they came.

I soon lost the will to try,

And learned to live with this void.

This is the life I’ve made for myself.

I just hope that someone else cherishes the love that I may never find again.

[theblackpoets]

Disclosure

Wrap my legs around your head.

Give you some food for thought.

Giving you a feeling that’s far more intimate than our late night pillow talks.

What’s a honest black man to a honest black woman?

A harmony.

What’s actions speaking louder than words and words flowing so fluently without curves.

Poetry.

I want you and I to be so adjacent that we can never feel complacency in our lives.

So let me spit you some real shit while you in between my thighs.

Look me in my eyes as I tell you that

Exploring you should never be a sin and curiosity never killed the cat and there’s enough fish in the sea to swim.

What if I told you nothing worth having is kept cause maintenance isn’t easy.

Or that pleasure is pain so i don’t need you to please me?

What if I told you our biggest enemy was ourselves. Would you believe me ?

Would you believe me?

What if i told you that the world was flat and not round?

Or Karma exists and what goes up, must come down.

What if I told you that happiness was at our own expense? If so, what’s the cost?

what if I wanted to indulge in your mind and get lost..

So let me wrap my legs around your head. & Give you some food for thought.

Cause this ain’t your typical pillow talk..

This is some shit that’s beyond me.

Let’s see what happens when our actions speak louder than words and words flow so fluently without curves.

Poetry.