…and 48 weeks later, I speak Persian
Infatuation
Monday I said hello
Tuesday we fell in love
Wednesday we had a fight
Thursday we made up
Friday? It was bliss, sweet as a first kiss
But by Saturday she was pissed, hard as a closed fist
Sunday? It was tragic, lost it before we had it
So Monday I said hello again, hoping for Tuesday magic
But Tuesday came and went, and nothing had changed a bit
The nine days that we spent were irrelevant by the tenth
poetic thoughts 1
do unspoken words still exist? like silent confessions shrouded in mist. or is adulation fallen on the deaf who hear no “I love you’s”, or the blind who see no romantic gestures? tragic as the forlorn tree that falls in the forest, no one around to hear the sound yet i wonder if the tremor is felt.
Body Language
Sadly I lack the verbal wizardry to just tell you how much I love you
So I speak with the lines of the palms of my hands when I touch you
Communication through physical expression without sexual aggression
The ultimate connection
My fingertips write love sonnets laced with innuendo on your torso
Slow dancing with no music like poetry in motion
I take the time to learn every gorgeous imperfection just to show you my devotion
Trace every curve, & without a word I massage my mental professions into you
Hold you tight enough for you to feel my heart’s percussion confessing that it’s yours
No secret, my love percolates from every pore
Body heat escalates and soars like the barrel of a gun
Shooting bullets of bliss with every forehead kiss, from my lips to your cerebral cortex
I want you to feel me in every inch of your central nervous system
I want to be your biological ignition, your V6 engine with blood pumping pistons sending you my love through every artery, vein, and tendon
Touch hands and feel the electricity coursing through your bones
10 thousand watts and 100 thousand ohms
Our sparks fly like two million purple fireflies on ecstasy
Shining bright and living recklessly
To the beat of our own drum, to the rhythm of our hearts thumping in unison
Because when I’m with you reality has no principle
Your presence keeps me high and your love makes me invincible
So when I kiss you it’s not just a kiss
When my hand grazes yours it’s not an accident
& I apologize for staring but I don’t see anything else worth looking at
They say that actions speak louder so with every action I reveal me
I just hope my body language speaks fluently enough for you to feel me
Because I’m feeling you…& I’m not just sayin that
Sleep Talk
As the night shade encompasses the day, these closed eyelids produce angelic visions of my hearts desire, a sleepless fantasy of whom I admire. The well dressed, caramel skin object of my affection, an accomplished heart breaker, pieces of my right ventricle in her collection. It puts my sanity into question that I pursue in her direction, knowing her taste for mens’ hearts is competitive with Dr. Lecter. It’s apparent I have a death wish three levels deep inside inception. Interference with my mental reception makes my reality deceptive. Damn. I’m a well rested insomniac. I’m only alive when I’m with her and I’m only with her in my dreams. My subconscious scheme to make that old thing gleam, like new. It’s a cold feeling knowing that my fantasy exists, and have to resist to persist because of all the failed attempts. So I love you with my eyes closed, sleep talking til the sun glares. Making love in all my dreams and fuckin you in my nightmares. Eight hours of suicidal bliss, I wake up to take a piss still feining for your kiss. I need to sleep.
I see you.
I see you
You think that you’re invisible girl but I see you
I see the scars left from emotional miscues, a broken heart & crumpled tissues.
Caused by shallow brothers with small minds who habitually misused you
Who’s words collided with actions like sails against back-winds
In a sea of contradictions, tidal waves of crooked diction
Told more lies than politicians fighting for their positions of abused power
Lemon flavored love made your heart go sour
& the bitter after taste makes it difficult for me to find my place with you
But I have faith in you, so I’ll take this slow pace with you
Whatever you need.
Cause I don’t see a woman scorned, I see an uncaged queen
Baby, I feel you. You think that you’re untouchable but I swear that I can feel you.
& I’d love nothing more than to be the king who swept you off your feet
But to you, I’m just another nigga
I aint tryna fall in love I’m just tryna get ya digits
Tell you what you wanna hear maybe you’ll let me hit it
Then get up & keep it movin like we never even did it.
But I won’t tell you that I’m different.
My words lack the potency to heal you
Only actions reveal truth
So ima hold you down like gravity, through every win, loss and tragedy
Until the times you’re feeling low I’ll defy it in an instant; and like a Legend, we’ll get lifted.
Whatever you need.
Cause I don’t see a woman scorned I see an uncaged queen.
From the locs in ya hair, to the tiny J’s on your feet
Yea you a real piece of work. I’m talking 9 days a week
But I’m down for the chase you’re a challenge I embrace
And though your complexity may amaze me Your architecture doesn’t phase me
I got staples and duck tape and some glue that’s kinda crazy So we can piece you heart back together, I’ll do 9 to 5 daily
Pro bono… don’t pay me
I just want the love
So forget an 80-20 I’ll be all of the above
Whatever you need.
Cause I don’t see a woman scorned, I see an uncaged queen
I don’t see a nightmare just an unfinished dream
I don’t see your flaws, just God’s perfect scheme
Hell I ain’t even gotta start just put me on the team
I want the chance to show you that I’m in a different league
For no other reason than I think you’re worth it.
I KNOW you’re with it…because I see you
You think that you’re invisible girl, but I see you
That forever shit.
People still do the whole marriage & kids thing right? You know, the “Honey, I’m home” life. Love & monogamy. Honesty & loyalty. Chivalry & submission. All that cockamamie hoopla our grandparents were into? I hope so, because that’s what I want. Not to say I want a perfect life with a perfect wife because that doesn’t exist. But I want that wake up every morning knowing that she’s gonna hold me down til I’m old & smelly love. That Cory & Topanga, Bonnie & Clyde, Paris & Helen, Marc & Cleopatra, Barack & Michelle, Ike & Tina, Chris & Rhi raw passionate shit….Okay maybe not that Ike & Tina, Chris & Rhi lol. But I look around at my peers, & it seems like that’s not what’s poppin anymore. It’s all aboutquantity over quality, lust over love, hoes over women, & niggas over men. Sometimes I feel like I was born a couple decades late; or maybe I just watched one too many episodes Boy Meets World. ~ CP
