Gone.

The more I hear her songs, the sadder I get. More than that, though, one word sums her up...

...love.

Defeat

WTF is wrong with me? No pair of contacts or the eyeglasses are necessary to see...that our time has run out.

Gotta learn to let go, and keep my dignity in the forefront. There's no need to point fingers or blame her for pulling any particular stunt.

It's merely a case of actions speaking louder than words, and once you've lived long enough, you realize pointing fingers is not the way to go. She's on my mind constantly, yet it's not the same, which our recent meeting and subsequent lack of interactions show.

To sum it up as infatuation would be cheap, but to define it as love may be a lil' too much, even with the moment being what it is. Just by this admission alone, humility is being shown...loud and clear. Just like D and The Root, it's safe to concede complete and total defeat is finally here.



10/18/10 @ 7:48 P.M.

I Won't (Thoughts from the Highway)

A wise woman once sang...

"...don't give up on love, because..what I did to you..."

...so I won't.

6/27/10 @ 5:13 P.M.

Goodbye

1. a parting; a farewell.

In every encounter you have, two things are certain: there's a beginning, and there's an end. It's as sure as anything in the world. Some endings end peacefully, while others make your blood boil and your toes curl, but the thing is...they end. That's just the way things go, no matter the person or their name...and when it happens, regardless of how parties feel, the only thing you can do is charge it to the game.

But some endings, conclusions...the culmination of events can be tough to digest and hard to accept. You express yourself to levels you didn't know you had, until there's literally nothing left...and when you realize the other party seemingly didn't feel how you did, it's hard to swallow. Yet, when the pure and total truth finally comes out, it makes it easy for your mind to move on, and your heart to follow.

There's never been a time when things have been more clear, when peace-of-mind was so near, shining, with no need to cover your eyes with a hand and peer. Realizing that this is officially over is bittersweet, but it allows this book to have a proper ending; one fitted with the truth and free of a lie. It allows it to be put in a box, and for it to end with one last word...goodbye.

6/9/10 @ 2:30 A.M.
Photo by Clifton Henri

High in the Sky

You found a way into my thoughts, despite being well above 10,000 feet. It never ceases to amaze how, even from this far a distance, my soul finds yours to meet. However, it isn't a meeting based on mutuality; not something that's agreed upon. It's of a different manner, one that's been avoided for far too long.

We're not meant to be...in any form. Not as friends, lovers, or even, excuse my french, just to fuck. See, it's been avoided for so long, yet it's been over, with no further traces of luck. The signs were all there, and for that, there's no one to blame, but the person who's composing this piece. Charging it to the game is the only direction left to go, even if that's the method that's embraced the least.

Once this plane hits the ground, another journey officially comes to an end, and even though familiar grounds await, establishing contact with you isn't an option, with these words serving as evidence of resisting the urge to do so, ever again.

5/17/10 @ 10:55 PM

H.E.A.L.

Honesty...is the key to it all. It makes no sense to ignore the pain that occurs from the fall. Yeah, it hurts, and making it go away is a difficult task. Facing it head-on is even tougher, and makes you think the feeling is always gonna last...but it's gone now, and at least subsided to the point where it won't be coming back.

Eagerness...to make sense of everything that went down. Being unconcerned with how it makes you look, even if it comes off as lookin' like a clown. Others can't handle it when things don't go their way, but you do, which lets you know you're better now than you were in previous days...

Acknowledge...what made you feel like this in the first place. Sure it sucks, but it's even worse if you lie and wonder why you continue to finish last in every race. Some things don't make sense, but you still should acknowledge that they're there...and once you do, and patch your errors up, you'll get to the front, regardless of when or where.

Learn...that it's okay to fall, and normal to bruise. When it comes to people you love, the journey will be anything but a cruise. There are some parts on my body that hurt as well, so I know exactly how you feel. Just now that once you're 100 about it all, it makes it so much easier for 'em to heal.

4/3/10 @ 1:51 P.M.

No Shame

The day will come when we can take a stroll in the park, just like we're kids again. We'll laugh and smile, with all intentions of making sure our good times never end. The bond will be beyond control, with no chance of being tamed. When it comes, it'll be embraced in full, with absolutely no shame.

It's exactly why I don't worry about the day coming...because the time is certainly near. There's no reason to think I'm trippin' either, because my vision has never been more clear. What I'm tellin' you is authentic, and void of any traces of game. We'll do it together as one, with absolutely no shame.

10/5/09 @ 9:17 P.M.

Photo by Jeremy Biggers

Love-Making

The last time love was made, it was unreal, beautiful, mind-blowing; safe to say, this man was hooked. You coulda been cuffed right there on the spot, and taken to the authorities to be finger-printed and booked. There's no doubt you're the one who served as a reminder of how love is truly made, and if I had to rate it on a scale, there's no doubt you'd get the highest possible grade...

They say good things come to those who wait, and that's exactly what we did. The temptation to do more never overruled the importance of waiting until the time was right, and once it came, the acts were so intoxicating, we were at it from dark all the way to daylight.

Our souls came together as one, as slow jams moved to OUR BEAT, and not the other way around. Our bodies were in sync, with ruffled sheets, infrequent moans, and the fan above us contributing to the sound. It was void of lust, yet filled with passion. Not since then has anything remotely come close, in no particular form or fashion. We'd be drenched by each other's thoughts, and washed with our words; we'd rinse off with laughter, and dry off using the smiles we were able to lure...hell, I can't even look at showers the same! 'Cause ever since then, whether it's the face wash, shampoo, or the soap, whenever I step in, all the bottles spell out your name...

7/28/09 @ 3:23 A.M.

Photo by Thomas Hopson

Good, Bad, and Indifferent: Fuck It No More

The last thing anyone can do is give a man ample time to think; when it occurs, things, events, and words find a way to converge and perfectly link...and it came to this particular truth. The train didn't stop, because I slammed on the brakes. It came to a halt, because the journey became way too much for you to take.

It all makes sense now; it's never been about me, because there's no sign of this man being confused. Sure, it may cross your mind on occasion, but my soul's been the one that's been battered and abused.

Expressing these thoughts won't change a thing; it's not gonna bring those times back. It'll just continue to make me look like a fool, especially since your train seems to be running smooth now, and totally on track. More power to ya, and it's time for me to go ahead, and follow right along. It's time to compose a brand-new verse, and stop singin' the same old song.

7/10/09 @ 5:34 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Reflections: Fuck It Part Four

...so I saw you today, but it wasn't exactly the way it seems. It wasn't in the physical, yet it also didn't occur in my dreams. You were far away, yet close enough to touch. Never in my wildest days would I have believed a woman could possibly consume my thoughts THIS MUCH.

When's the day gonna come, when the sight of your face doesn't make a brother reflect and go back? Why is it this train of mine can never seem to stay it's course, and ends up running off-track...just at the sight of your mere vision. You know now these words are directed one way, and it's you I've been missin'...and on top of that, I'd be lying to myself for thinking if you wanted to talk that I'd be unreceptive to listen.

Sooner or later, come hell or high water; whether the day is tomorrow, or it's way down farther...the words will come out, and they won't merely be said, they'll be done. At this point, it seems like an eternity for the title of these poems to have some concrete meaning, and to finally ring true, but the day's gonna come when I'm done pinin' over this, and I'll officially be over you.

6/9/08 @ 11:19 P.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Love is a Four-Letter Word, But So Is Evil: Fuck It Part Three

The title of this is kinda misleading. The subject itself is not evil, by any means. She's actually a great woman; things just didn't work out. There's no love, but there's a really, really, REALLY strong like. I'm not quite to "charge it to the game" status yet, but I'm gettin' closer to being there everyday. Til then, words will be dug out from deep within, until there's nothing left to say...

Not too sure why the title is as such, other than the fact that it's definitely true. Never woulda thought a feeling would come over like this, due to actions between me and you. People say the best way to get over something, or someone, is to acknowledge its existence, and impact. Problem is, the good can be addressed all day, but it doesn't change the unmistakable fact...that things have changed.

Sure, maybe it can be patched up, but does it really even matter anymore? Maybe words and thoughts can be exchanged, yet things may never be like they were once before. In a sense, that's why something can be good, yet still be bad. Like realizing these words are therapeudic on one hand, but once they run out, the night will still end with me feelin' sad.

There's a part that wants to act like this shit doesn't even matter, like it aint no big deal, but if that part was to take over, there's no way that would be honest or keepin' it real. That's why times like this will continue to be bittersweet; realizing the irony of love and evil finding a way to co-exist, despite the fact this was never how they intended to meet...

6/3/09 @ 12:26 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Plans: Fuck It Part Two

Some are made well in advance, while others are the last-minute type. They were in place for you, which pretty much contributes to my gripe. They're all dashed for now, with no certain signs of coming back, and part of me has no desire to modify 'em, or even try to put 'em back on track...

Movies at the drive-thru, with food to snack on, and some grown folks beverage to drink; the vision of it was so clear, that there was nothing else for me to think. So much for that, along with others that are far from some seeing the light. Those plans have been placed on the backburner, with no indications of them ever returning to sight..

Plans were in place for some oyster shooters, daquiris, and hurricanes; you know, the ones that can only be bought on Bourbon Street. The ones folks say are so good to ya that they'll knock you right off your feet. Well, just like the others, those plans have been placed to the dark, in the farthest depths of any seeing any type of daylight, with no evidence that leads me to believe a return of them is anywhere in sight...

This is one plan that certainly wasn't made at first; if so, preparations woulda been made, so I wouldn't feel so vulnerable and at my absolute worst. This plan, like the others, is beyond being on-track...and at this rate, there are no signs of it ever coming back..

6/1/09 @ 1:22 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Fuck It.

Not too sure where it went wrong, and at this point, the desire to figure out is all but dead. Anytime it seems like things are gonna be different, they turn out to be just like the stories that have already been read. Any other time, it woulda been charged to the game, and simply just marked up as a learned lesson. But just when it seems like that revelation and conclusion will come, it leads to an unexpected confession. The fact is...you're missed.

The wound is still fresh, and it'll heal itself over time, even as it leaves a scar. It'll be looked at constantly, treated, and examined with care. And, unlike previous times, this bruise won't have me put my guard or defenses up. I'll end up going all-out, more than ever, even at the expense of my soul being exposed and totally bare...

5/19/09 @ 1:44 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Moving On: The Finale of the Story of a Recovering Addict

Note: This was totally unplanned (the sequence of these poems). I don't know what the hell got me to writing about recovering from love in the first place. Kinda glad I did, though. Even with that, I don't wanna write about it anymore :). At least, not at the moment. I'm gonna stop the madness with this poem, and move forward.

It's finally come to this; must admit, I never thought it would end this way. In the movies, there's usually a happy ending, but this is a completely different script, and an entirely different day.

Went from amazing highs to lonely nights, unimaginable joys to unbearable sights; went from smiles to frowns, from smirks to scowls, from laughing to sighing, and from recovering to relapsing...

Went from excessive withdrawals to having it right in front of me on a plate; just to have it yanked away, and returned to my original fate...

There's no storybook ending when it comes to love; no medications to treat its symptoms and the possibility of it spreading and taking effect in your life; only the hope of another day to get yourself through. In the meantime, I'll continue to do that: just live, and be reminded of the feelings I get from simply being in the presence...of you.

1/14/07 @ 8:05 P.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Relapse: The Story of a Recovering Addict Part Four

1. act of returning to previous condition; return to former mood, state, or way of life.

Note: In theory, full recovery from addiction is a good thing. Hell, it's a GREAT thing. But, there's always that possibility of a relapse. When that happens, it makes you question why you're tryna "kick" in the first place. Is that a good or bad thing? You don't have to answer; it's a rhetorical question :)

Damn, all of this was going according to plan. But all of a sudden, you re-surfaced, and you took ahold of me like only you can...

You grabbed me, squeezed me, and wrapped me tight; moved effortlessly through me, but I still felt all your might. It's like I only got a glimpse of you briefly, yet...I can't get you outta my sight. And you didn't even need 24 hours; you made your presence felt in only a fraction of a night.

I'm supposed to be moving forward, not taking steps back. Then again, after feelin' like this, I may not wanna get back on track. So for now, I'll just lay back, and take it all in stride, and hope this relapse...doesn't slowly kill me inside.

1/11/07 @ 3:06 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Detox: The Story of a Recovering Addict Part Three

1. withdrawal of a toxic or an addictive substance.

Note: There should a rehab center, or a clinic somewhere, for people who are tryna recover from love, or shit that even remotely resembles love. I'd be there every week, sittin' in that circle of chairs, with a whole bunch of damn strangers who are tryna recover from it, too. Hell, they have it for all the other addictions: drugs, drank, even sex, but not love. Wassup with that???

It grabbed me outta nowhere, penetrated my veins, cruised through my soul, and exited freely, but not without a trace. On the surface, things may have appeared to be the same, but look closer, and it's marks are written all over my face.

That smile I used to carry is now replaced by a scowl; if someone tries to reinforce that they're sincere, it'll give me even more reason to believe they're being foul. They attempt to speak to me, with no hints, of tryna run game. Yet, due to my own hurt and self-pity, I'll brush 'em off, and tell 'em "you can't fool me. All of you are exactly the same."

But thinking like this only leads to more pain, more anguish, and more grief. It's time to rid myself of this feeling, and get some much-needed relief. Gotta check in, lay in that bed, strap up, and rid myself of this poison the best way I can, and come out refreshed and re-juvenated...and feelin' like a brand-new man.

1/8/07 @ 1:41 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Lonely Nights: The Story of a Recovering Addict Part Two

Note: One of the toughest parts during recovery are those lonely nights (trust, it's 4:04 in the damn morning right now). At one time, you had someone special with you, so you never felt alone. No matter what, you could always count on them to be there...

Where your head used to be, now a cold pillow lies. The sounds our two breaths would make, are now replaced by my unemotional sighs. And don't let this go unsaid...I'd rather lay alone on the couch, than without you next to me in my bed.

Think back to happier times. The laughter, the wrestling, you know, the things people tend to take for granted. It must have been, because it took this flame having to be extinguished from my life to gain a total appreciation and understandin'...of what we had.

So for tonight, this ink is you, and this paper is me...and we're one. Different, yes, but nontheless, we're one. When I have another night like this, I'll just open my book, come to this page, and smile, maybe even laugh, and remember what we once had...and instead of feelin' sad, I'll replace it with bein' glad, and realize that not all lonely nights...have to end so bad.

Good night.

1/5/07 @ 4:09 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

The Story of a Recovering Addict

Disclaimer: The next series of posts are poems I wrote a long time ago (hence the dates and times). They were posted on my xanga site when they were initially written. I don't know why the hell I've decided to bring them here, other than I wanted to. With that said, be easy...

For days, weeks, months, and even years...you were the rush in my veins that put to rest all of my fears. I could pick you from a crowd a mile away, and when someone else would come with another offer, I'd tell 'em, "nah that's alright; not even on my WORST day."

Because you were one-of-a-kind. The effect you've had on others had no comparison on what you did to me. When you came through, I'd beg for you to stay, and when you were gone, I'd sit alone at night wishing you never went away.

I stood out in the cold with no coat for you, waited patienty in the rain with no hood for you, and got into it with others in my life...from the effects of you.

I would get sick if I didn't have my fix, draw up blood if I aimed for it and missed, curse myself relentlessly for having made you frown, and cry myself a million tears, and wouldn't attempt to make 'em stop...I'd simply drown...drown and hope to never come up, wish to simply stay there, wish...to be gone.

So why wish for something like this? Why wait and crave for something if gives me this feeling? After all this time, I've conquered the toughest drug to recover from...I recovered from being in love. Yet with all that...

why am I eager to experience all of this...again?

12/12/06 @ 12:22 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Black Women: Part Three

Part I

Part II

This begins by saying an apology is in order. It's necessary for the times we took your presence for granted. It's crucial for the instances where it was us who became disillusioned and disenchanted...but the disappointment should be placed on us, for not doing our part to continually treat you like queens. We should take the sole responsibility for not cherishing the greatest gift our eyes have ever seen.

We should love all of you the way we love our mothers and our daughters; unconditionally, as the central figures in just about any brother's life. We should cherish you completely, whether you're a teacher, lawyer, or our very own wife. There's no justification for you being reduced to an object, a tool, or a toy. You should be handled like the gems you are, and placed on a pedestal for giving the world your love and irreplaceable joy.

These words are the opposite of empty; they're filled with the sincerity of Black men everywhere, who vow to do better, and to place you back on your throne where you belong. We know if you're by our side, it gives us our best chance to make it, and the least chance to ever go wrong. So from the bottom of our collective hearts, we apologize, and make a pledge to treat you as the definition of a queen, simply from knowing the vision of you will continue to be the greatest gift our eyes will ever see.

7/9/08 @ 1:15 P.M.


Photo by Clifton Henri

Being In Love

How do you know when you're in love? Whether it's buried deep where it's hard to see, or if it's right in front of you, like a child tuggin' at your knee.
It's been thrown in an ocean, but always finds a way to float on back to the surface. It's your favorite verse in an all-time classic, the one you listen to repeatedly. It's the feeling you get through your body everytime you're witnessed to their visual imagery. It's why you can't sleep at night, it's the bulb inside of your bedside light; the medicine to cure your ills, with a prescription that's too strong for any type of pills.
Being in love can make the strongest person weak, or make the weakest person strong. It's 100% authentic, so the emotions you feel from them can never go wrong. Just follow your heart, and let fate take care of the rest, and realize that this journey you're on, regardless of the outcome, is only for the best.
3/13/07 @ 4:26 A.M.