“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, or who had ever been alive.”
—James Baldwin (via ethiopienne)
April 2013
2 posts
March 2013
3 posts
February 2013
10 posts
a portrait i penned of a picture under african sun.
He knew it all, but never the obvious
Intricately created
From the mystery that he wore like a invisible robe
A lover, only once
I would only get glimpses into his heart
Never touching it for long enough to feel an entire beat
His dancing fingertips, sauntering around my waist and up my back were the only signs of his Sentimental Mood
His favorite song
I thought of him on cold trains and under orange moons
A musician
Pushing his thumbs down into black and white rectangles
Singing in off keys
He knew just what songs to play
The ones that said everything I had ever wanted to say to him
Between the lines and in every beat break
We would bang out rhythms on wooden tables
He would beg me to dance
So unaware of the fires he started
Illuminating the darkest rooms
He said he knew me
He said he knew every expression that my face could make because I had looked at him with every single one
It was true
He said every thing without uttering a single word
His body language could have spelled out his exact sentiments in mid air had his heart or mind been able to function like a typewriter
But neither of them could
So I would just feel his soul whispering to mine
Revoking our platonic vows
His tail carried seducing venom that made my Libra scales fluctuate like an un-calibrated seesaw
Painting memories
His in washable watercolor
Mine in permanent acrylic
Somehow he always managed
To leave his strokes on my canvas
Coating my every curve with swirls beautiful and boisterous like monsoons
But
He is my friend
He is just my friend
We are not just friends
Sometimes to the point where it seems we are just not friends
A title
Too simple
Yet fitting
Easy
Our story lied in the secret of a flower
The last petal fell
He loved me not.
December 2012
18 posts
WiseMan-FrankOcean-Revised
django was ill without it.
