Nah, I'm Good.

My birthday was August 30th,

And I turned 35.

And my aunt made a happy little spread:

A pretty banner,

Shiny balloons,

And a surf 'n' turf that knocked me out.

Holy halleloo, we watched Ben-Hur,

I ate her Hawaiian salad,

and she fussed

'cause the cherries were missing.

We ate it still,

and I fell fast asleep,

And my birthday was quiet

and great.

I expected the usual greetings of friends,

of colleagues,

and my loving dad.

Spoiled rotten, I am

And I'm thankful for that .

And my birthday was quiet

and great.

My intrusive thoughts gave me a break ,

And kept thoughts of men and failures to a minor.

I had my day to celebrate ,

And my loneliness was thinner

and finer .

Still ever yet

I did compare--

"Here yesterday, gone tomorrow"...

But smiled knowing better things were coming,

and old news had to go.

Even years

And birthdays divisible by 5 have purpose --

Something significant always happens.

I didn't expect much,

Just a better way to bust this red debt.

I'd take a man, my cat/bird, and my apartment

if I was meant to have them yet.

A sip of vodka and $2k was fine.

I'm in the solarium ,

regal as I please :

dusted gently with makeup ,

and rose quartz jewels ,

and the dress I got for 2017 Mother's Day dinner ,

then he changed his mind 'bout meeting her

and I wasted my time trying to impress her,

just to be dogged out in 2018.

Well,

repurposed, it was my 2020 summer birthday dress.

Loc'd, laid, and fat bitch buzzin',

I looked

And smelled great.

I held my nappy head high,

and cleaned my geometric plate.

Well,

he messaged me.

Him...

but not him.

Riverdale,

not Marietta.

I've been that vessel of on and off ,

That foolish gameplayer ,

The ghosted fool ,

Laid out and wide open ,

Left with Media Player and Spotify lists to wipe tears .

I've done the denial and depressed acceptance,

And rage with bargaining,

With all those fucking steps gone back and forth.

Sat with my broken self, wondering what I'd done wrong,

to be left so powerfully flat, like nothing.

And long before the men told me

"we check-in to see if we can still pull you",

I decided--

NO MORE BULLSHIT.

See,

I love to be open ,

And giving ,

And cuddly with hugs .

I love the moments where race, politics

and all human fuckery fall flat ,

And people can be people ...

And we can just vibe and be--

But the sweet summer flower child cannot lay bare ,

cannot be vulnerable ,

and caring ,

and forgiving ,

in the face of past users .

Lord and Buddha almighty !

THE LINES!

HA!

The same old lines ,

Like I'm still 23

And "we can try one more time "

over ,

and over ,

and over ,

and over ,

and over.

Child,

I'm old.

My patience is worn thin

and I need to supply most of it to survive tech issues ,

social issues ,

coffee issues,

bank issues,

health issues ,

and why-I-can't-find-my-shit-where-I-left-it issues !

Where is there room for old foolishness?

We could go toe-to-toe with smart-ass lines

Bit-for-bit for who did what ,

(Although we've forgotten most of it )

Or I can be happily sane--

And I was.

400+ miles away ,

Damn near 6 off and on years living here,

Nestled in writing and inner old lady sass,

Deep into learning to love myself ,

Listing the wants

and the "hell nawls"...

And knowing how things usually go.

Last resort?

You know I'm single?

Are you bored?

Ah,

I haven't got time.

Swipe. Delete.

Boy bye.