Love Yourz

On my way down, I caught another 3:33 on the phone. I was on my way towards the love of my own life. The number had been trailing me like a puppy seeking shelter in the middle of the night. Just two lost souls showing up in each other's life- fated, searching for a home with other souls. Finding love in new places, getting lost in seemingly familiar faces. I thought you were meant for me - almost fully realized, but most definitely premeditated. I had looked it up before; I still managed to forget what it meant, and what it was supposed to mean for me during times like this. Anxiety was a slow killer- a light blocker. It was 3:33 AM when I popped up, straight out another dream with you still fresh in my eyes. I didn't have to see your face to feel you round me. The energy introduced itself, and somehow quietly, became my favorite. It lingered in the air like the sweat of dancing, jumbled in with hints of weed smoke, and the sweetness of some hard-hitting waffle house pancakes. We were like honey with a side of tobacco. Almost alright. And perhaps, not as bad as we feared.

I remembered you like cringy throwbacks from the eighth grade. The kind you looked upon fondly in private and never shared-- not even with the bestfriend you called sister. At least not willingly. Even when I cried in the dead of night, somehow I felt she always knew it was you that I was mourning. So many questions, but the obvious glared back at me. Could you love me?

I learned early that, sometimes you had to hide your heart against the ones you loved. Cause showin' it off only brought you shame. I know you knew the vibes. Childishly scribblin' our initials within the private eyes of my brown composition, swearin' up and down it wasn't a diary...knowing damn well if it ever got out, I probably woulda fought, and cried and most definitely denied knowing a thang about its contents. Not because I had anything to hide. I wasn't shy enough to bite my tongue at the wrong times. On the contrary- it was all the lives I had, intertwined on my lines. Friends passing from crashing. More family clashings. And here you were, with the audacity to sound like mine. On some "I ain't neva did this before" shit. A crush so picture-perfect, and worth the picture still...til he wasn't worth a damn.

Love and pain still rendered me incrementally blind; just a single lens, three eyes, and a crooked smile. Between then and now, so much had changed at the hands of Time. No, I couldn't remember all the instances that led me to scribble and whine amongst pages bound. But I could remember how I felt seeing my 8th grade love kiss another girl in plain sight of my world. And being so caught up in the heat of long moments, it set my feet on fire. I could conspire my comeback for another's demise. But, I just couldn't let myself cry. I had to write.

I still hated waiting by the phone and being left alone; Sometimes, leaving was the only cry for help I could muster. My heart walked head first into the unavailable abyss. That stutter from my younger days came peakin' out like a slow leak. You made my soul weak in all the wrong ways. Sugar scrubbed over old wounds never healed any sweeter in the wrong place. What could you utter to a familiar face, when you couldn't stand to watch it leave? Did you carry my scent past the threshold on your way out?

Too much pain. Simply, too much pain at the backs. Wanting cups full of affections. No such thing as "bad attention". I shot my bow from every angle. And Lord knows, I threw them love-bombs with a vengeance. Laid back, but rushing to the pages mapping happily-ever-after's. But the phone stopped ringing. The sounds of passionate momentum fell to a hush. I spent all my time running to dreams. While the winds took all the smoke I couldn't choke back. I implored you to hold patience to the lips of my bad decisions. Most times though, I just couldn't help myself. You felt like a love of my own in my bones. A full hug with the faces mushed and the motherly touch. Or me rushing up a blunt just to make sure I would forget to care if I stared. If I could just see you freely how I wanted...When I read you, you were beautiful. Even sleeping, I saw us, dancing in my peripherals.

I had constructed new additions to your story, starting at the ending first. There was almost something left to say. The flowers grew old with the table - both aged, but only one remained. The pedestals I set aside were supposed to be temporary, but they slowly fused to your every step.What was it ever like to feel worthy? Did the heart break less when it opened? I hated to say I could see the break coming. I had lost so much time over-dedicated to turning my back. So much time passed between us in our separate places across space. I wondered if you could hear me cursing through your name. I spat it out like sour milk. Wasn't enough honey in the world to make the shit sweet again.

Fuck love - respectfully, of course. I dropped the pen and all reminders of you for a long while. Music became bittersweet, brought out only for special occasions like graduations and funerals. I'd been cloggin up that void with men that couldn't kiss to my rhythm, and move to my steps.

I would've unpacked bags for you. I would've done a lot. But, between my acrobatic way with words and aging pains, it seems I lost my way. I spent months whispering to these four walls bout the stranger trapped in my head. I covered my bedside with all my evidence of joys past, just more things to keep the lonely out. I weaved my story into playlists and sent my letters with a kiss. Unrequited love echoed through the halls of my memory, taunting me, crippling my ability to trust that the rules of the game could bring justice. There was nothing left to do, but surrender it all.