“He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.”
― Bob Marley
It kills me to see you so happy
Your smile bring me tears
You love me so much it don’t feel real
What I do at night while you sleep? I cry
Why? I don’t know
But? It better be good
Because? If it’s what I think most likely I’m wrong
While everyone waits for my moment, I’m enjoying every moment of it
The ends of my mouth reach to my eyes when I think about the love you give me
What hurts is the love I can’t get from you… Happiness is measured by my actions
So? I get caught up in dates that assure my security. Forget about those who can wait
And? Give my loyalty to those loyal to me. In just a short period of time you’ve made me feel like love could be mine, so I watch you sleep. Tears of joy from eyes of pride smile from cheek to cheek too obvious to hide but, propane minds think alike. Especially, when they share the same body…
Never let your right hand hand know what your left is doing
Innocent and youthful, not knowing if what I say is true but, I do know I’m true to what I say..
I love putting words together to make a
I love putting words together to
I love putting words together to
Inform, get my point across, and
Paint beautiful bodies of work that tell a tale…
I may be a little uncomfortable with my
soft voice, so it’ll take a while for me to
Build the courage for spoken word
I just love capturing my poems to share with
Somewhere in an unknown town, lived a girl named Peggy Sue, bouncing around from clubs to bars looking for a man to do. Only twenty-two, she been climbing up and down stripper poles since the illegal age of fifth teen. She had no father figure, just sugar daddies, a few baby fathers and stacks of loot. But all the money in the world couldn’t make her happy. Not the mollies or the alcohol was enough to numb her pain. She was a mirage of unspoken beauty. Some say she spread STD’s. She was an angel in disguise who had no clue of her strength. The girls hated her. The guys just used her for one thing. They bragged about how she could take more than five dicks in a train, which was absolutely true. She didn’t do it for the money. That just paid the bills, and clothed and fed her kids. She did it because she felt empty inside. She had no friends, but she knew celebrities, business men, drug dealers and gang bangers. She never knew her kin and never finished school, because she had to work and buy pampers for us two.
Then her daughters reached puberty and asked her, “Why we have to go to school Mommy, can we just stay home and get money from niggas with you.” She didn’t know what to say. I don’t what this life for my babies, she thought in her head. There’s got to be another way. I can’t tell them what I do for money. “No babies go to school, so you could get a good job and make it on your own.” That night she drank less, observing her surroundings with a sober mind, trying to imagine her daughters on that pole. “I can’t do this anymore!” she yelled out loud. She figured she had enough in the bank to take a break and ran out. She stayed out the bars for awhile, but still called her sugar daddies from time to time. She tried to go to school, but it was too difficult. She applied at fast food restaurants, but never got a response. By the time her kids were old enough to live without her, she killed herself. R.I.P. Peggy Sue also known as Mommy.
Once we learn everything there is to know what will be left to exist other than what we create… Creative minds must unite to spin the circle of life.
Why question a love that feel so great, when I always felt like something was missing…. Now my circle feels complete
Getting ready to take this midterm I should have took last week
and i can’t pay my phone bill, so don’t call me. I’ll call you
You won’t find me on Facebook, maybe Twitter or IG
((where ever there's free wifi))