Chosen

Like water,

Like water,

He said:

"If we don't work out,

then I'm going for a Polynesian,

or an Asian."

And I went for a Greek,

'cause I had no real answer,

save for the typical

"If he and I don't work,

I'm giving up on love."

How many losers,

Like me,

prepare themselves to give up love?

How many are prepared,

armed,

and have a Spotify list,

'cause romance doesn't belong to bums?

The womanist stood up.

Yeah, 24 fucking hours later,

on MAJOR CPT!

But she stood up,

and screamed in my head:

"I AM NOT YOUR EXPERIMENT,

YOUR END ALL BE ALL,

YOUR TEST TO SEE

IF BLACK WOMEN ARE WORTH IT,

WHEN I KNOW, BITCH,

I KNOW,

BITCH,

THAT WE ARE THE SHIT."

And she stood, afro high,

boots higher, and body so wide,

as I stood in the shower

and rehearsed the lines

that should have been present

and would have caused a war

at Quality Inn.

And we?

Me,

He,

and I?

Oh, over. We would have been over.

Should we be?

What business is it of mine

If he chooses to change races

to find peace,

because the Negress crowd

was not enough,

and his issues with women

span over 30-something years?

How is that my fault,

or my concern,

Because I'm no better

than whatever perfection

he's got in his head,

and the ramifications of his words

don't have much weight or regret,

'cause he's tired of the sistas,

and my bum ass holds the weight

of something bigger than my ability?

I should have dropped him,

but I love a man

who probably hates me

Because I'm Black,

but that's not what he said.

That's not what he said.

The womanist urges me to stand up for my sisters.

She demands it,

to ask him.

"What do you mean by this?"

"Don't you love your sisters?"

"Didn't you come from a Black woman?"

However,

She knows—

He came from a Black woman,

was mistreated by a Black woman,

slave-driven by Black women,

used

abused,

And after all that time,

We’re still one in the same.

It doesn’t matter how much I love him,

Just how often I’ve failed him.

Still,

In realms of accountability,

When do we stop grouping,

Mistrusting,

and shutting out,

Because mommy didn’t love me right,

And sistas broke my heart

And sensitivity?

How is mistreatment and coldness

Ever ok?

Why was I chosen to lose him?

Why did we match so well?

Why anything, in life,

If I can’t ever have it?