How boys love:
He left pieces of her laid out on his mother's carpet.
Like the last toys he forgot to clean up before supper.
No instructions, No manual, Assembly required.
His mother taught him to sweep her under the rug,
Next to his black drummer toy. He now plays with soldiers.
That's how a black boy prepares for war. Strip him of his
jazz and remind him of tremors colored red and blue.
He is still drawn to her array of figures; she was coated in snakeskin,
Dipped in candle wax. Pure like the white t-shirt on his back.
Surrender to her innocence. She's too fragile for fire and he's too
frigid for diamonds. Yet he builds ships not to drown in her waters but to
dip his feet in. Unnoticed by her sunset he aligns his emotions with her
tsunamis. Captain of a sea that bared him the history of a fatherless mind
and a vacant mother. He'd tinker with her body parts for she beheld his
storm clouds. Oblivious to his play date he'd only wanted knowledge of
eve's suppression for we know apple's fall from trees. No lease to her
home for he had already moved in. Next to the utopia that confined
treasures. He'd swindle is sword not knowing her treasure was looted by
previous bandits. Yet, this was only his imagination. He'd place her back in
his toy chest with the rest of his trophy's. Never did he get to crown her a
queen for he was just a boy who'd love to play. The only women he'd
admire presided in the dining room for he'd never be late for supper.
A boy only knows to love his mother.
About the Creator
ShondaWho
•Published Poet/Writer
•Proud College Student
•Creatively breaking down my mind to expand yours 📖
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*About Me*
◇ Gay Black Female
◇ Storytelling, Poetry, Spokenword
◇ I ❤ Spring
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