When we dance-
Damn it feels so good to take these shoes off
They're suede and patent leather and make me stand up so straight
When we dance
I close my eyes and I breathe you in. Dancing with you
Its so familiar that closing my eyes now, I can smell you
Can recall the faintest bit of our cologne
light scratch of your beard
When we dance
For once, for real, I can let you lead
I can trust you completely and almost predict your next move
You guide me close then spin me away
But you never let go
When we dance you put me on display
You always could put on a show, but half the time I barely know what I'm doing
Somehow, somehow, when we dance, I look good
Everyone's watching. They're watching. They're whispering.
We're flawless
You move not only to the beat, but to the words as well
Your incredible body finds the mood of the music and the heart of every song so
When we dance
We're flawless
When we dance you create circles around us
I fix my hands in yours or around your shoulders and I'm locked into a very private embrace,
a separate space even
With my head resting on your shoulder I can only feel it when you're smiling
I cherish your arms, your fingers that press into the small of my back
That reassure my steps
When we dance
I'm yours
I believe you
I want you
When we dance
you can convince me of anything
Ask me
Ask me again
This time I'll go.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Chewing the Cuds. Two
Savannah
It is so easy to love you.
We're going on five years now. I still get butterflies when you touch me, when you walk in a room. In the morning, when you're away, I still reach to call you first. In the evening, I still reach for your favorite perfume just hoping you notice (though you always do).
When we sleep, I still face you, I still snuggle against you and tap my finger on your chest to the beat of your heart. Still reach for your hand when we walk down the street. Still feel my heart flutter whenever you call. Lying here... I can remember our first kiss. I recall how surreal it was for you to reach for me the way you did, looking down at me- God you're so tall. The movie way you touched my face and cupped my chin, the Denzel way you stared into my eyes... the hungry way you took my mouth.
Love you, love us together. Love our way together. Our things live together: your clippers next to my curlers, your wave grease next to my spritz. Panties against drawers, oxfords against stilettos, and skin against skin. Love us together.
Lying here list all the reasons I love you. Watching your chest rise and fall, I feel the heat of a million black women before me watching their own men so lovingly. Watching you I see all that there is to be proud of in a men, everything there is to want and need in a man, in watching you I see a man. I see my man.
You influence me. Seeing you break a sweat, I want to break a sweat. I want to run harder and pray harder. I want to be more because you're more. More than I ever asked for. A blessing when tears were what I knew best. I get an ache when you're gone. Get a crease in my forehead. I get a walk about me. Then you come back and you work it right back out of me.
Love you. Love you. Love you because...forgiveness is possible around you. Focus, strength, and wisdom are attainable with you. Because you don't fault me for knowing myself, for honoring myself, for being myself. Because with you there's no apologizing for emotion, for silly, for stumbling. There's only encouragement with you. There's only real with you, truth with you. I love you because its easier to breathe with you.
Lying here with you I take deep breaths. In. Out. In... Out...
Effortless.
its easier to breathe when I'm around you
It is so easy to love you.
We're going on five years now. I still get butterflies when you touch me, when you walk in a room. In the morning, when you're away, I still reach to call you first. In the evening, I still reach for your favorite perfume just hoping you notice (though you always do).
When we sleep, I still face you, I still snuggle against you and tap my finger on your chest to the beat of your heart. Still reach for your hand when we walk down the street. Still feel my heart flutter whenever you call. Lying here... I can remember our first kiss. I recall how surreal it was for you to reach for me the way you did, looking down at me- God you're so tall. The movie way you touched my face and cupped my chin, the Denzel way you stared into my eyes... the hungry way you took my mouth.
Love you, love us together. Love our way together. Our things live together: your clippers next to my curlers, your wave grease next to my spritz. Panties against drawers, oxfords against stilettos, and skin against skin. Love us together.
Lying here list all the reasons I love you. Watching your chest rise and fall, I feel the heat of a million black women before me watching their own men so lovingly. Watching you I see all that there is to be proud of in a men, everything there is to want and need in a man, in watching you I see a man. I see my man.
You influence me. Seeing you break a sweat, I want to break a sweat. I want to run harder and pray harder. I want to be more because you're more. More than I ever asked for. A blessing when tears were what I knew best. I get an ache when you're gone. Get a crease in my forehead. I get a walk about me. Then you come back and you work it right back out of me.
Love you. Love you. Love you because...forgiveness is possible around you. Focus, strength, and wisdom are attainable with you. Because you don't fault me for knowing myself, for honoring myself, for being myself. Because with you there's no apologizing for emotion, for silly, for stumbling. There's only encouragement with you. There's only real with you, truth with you. I love you because its easier to breathe with you.
Lying here with you I take deep breaths. In. Out. In... Out...
Effortless.
its easier to breathe when I'm around you
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Chewing the Cuds. (A Series)
Nina.
Made it home early today. Its just dusk now-kids are still out and about. I turn the car off and roll up the windows, reach for my purse. I make it to the door and-shit, almost forgot the wine. Got to have my wine. Yes, its been that kind of day. I make it to the door and suddenly I'm not as tired as I was before I left work. You know that feeling, that little burst of energy you get when its time to clock out. Funny how at two o'clock you could barely lift your eyes to look at that computer screen, but suddenly its 4:52 and you're bouncing off the walls. I've only just started sorting through my mail when I get tired again. Comcast... Verizon... Direct Loans... Another wedding invitation? I start into the other room with a wine glass and the brown paper bag my Pinot is hiding inside of, leaving the mail on the table. I take my first sip while I finger through my records. If I flip through them long enough the tips of my fingers will start to smell like the sleeves. I rescued most of these from the flood in my grandparents basement. I heaved all three crates up two flights of stairs and across five states. Duke suits me, so I set the record playing.
The bathtub is already full by the time I finish my second glass of wine. I turn the water off and run my hands along the surface. Its too damn hot, but if turn the faucet any less to the left it'll be too cold. I let the water cool down while I stare at myself in the mirror, tea lights nestled all around me in little glass jars. My whole apartment is filled with that bathwater smell, the song changes and a run my hands along the underside of my breasts. Two nice handfuls, I've been assured and I'm really hoping that's the case. Another glass of wine and I'm in the tub. I stretch my legs under the water and the heat prickles my skin. Drinking in this heat is never wise, but its a calm like no other so I indulge. Over every splash I can still hear the Duke. A date of my gave me twelve cool points when he found out I liked jazz. However, he lost all his cool points when I found out he couldn't fuck. That's harsh-it really is- but for the state of mind I was in at the time, that was standard.
Another ... boyfriend, I guess you might call him, was incredible in bed and as a bonus he was incredibly stupid.I kept him on top of me so he wouldn't feel obligated to talk to me. Is that bad? Is it bad to keep someone like that on standby or is it necessary? Also, he made the mistake of believing we had a good thing. He was sweet, really, and determined to "pull me out of my shell". That's what it was, he thought I was just reserved or shy somehow. It took me leaving his house three times at 3 am for him to understand I was just indifferent. He used to whistle on the phone while I was listening to Miles Davis. Didn't even have the courtesy to whistle along with the song I was listening to, just made up his own shit. So when he stopped calling, I did too.
Third glass down and the water is perfect. My eyebrows are heavy and I'm warm behind the ears- good 'ole Pinot. I've reached that point that I've been thinking about all day. The song changes and I plunge my washcloth into the water between my knees. I wring it out over my shoulders, down my arms and scrub my elbows till their soft. I lean back and rub my chest, rub my shoulder, exhale... I remember he used to touch me like this. He being the one man I crave- the one I always crave. I squeeze my thighs together. Nights like this he would be coming over. Work, dinner, studying would be out of the way. I'd answer the door and it'd be over.
The water's too hot.
Once he came over and we didn't even talk. Not once. He watched me put on some music and draw the curtains. With all that happened that night what I remember most is his smile, that beautiful smile and those beautiful lips. This was long before the stupid one, but I remember. I remember his hand in my hair, at the back of my head and him breathing me in like he'd die if he didn't. And he stayed. Then he left, but not a minute before or after I wanted him to. My skin felt different when I was with him. My head felt different with him- wasn't so crowded, wasn't so noisy. Days went by like hours, hours like minutes...while he kept coming back, while I kept calling him back. He got to me, got into me, got under my skin, got in my head then left it there. I get butterflies like no one's had butterflies and sink down in the tub. Fuck him. I could never shake the high of him.
One more glass of wine and I'll get out. I'll change the music and check my email. I'll RSVP to that wedding before I forget entirely. Salmon for dinner. Cheesecake for dessert. I'll change the sheets and read before bed. It'll be dark. It'll be dark when I close my eyes and I'll try not to remember. I'll try not to imagine him or want him. I'll sleep. I'll sleep.
The water's cold.
Made it home early today. Its just dusk now-kids are still out and about. I turn the car off and roll up the windows, reach for my purse. I make it to the door and-shit, almost forgot the wine. Got to have my wine. Yes, its been that kind of day. I make it to the door and suddenly I'm not as tired as I was before I left work. You know that feeling, that little burst of energy you get when its time to clock out. Funny how at two o'clock you could barely lift your eyes to look at that computer screen, but suddenly its 4:52 and you're bouncing off the walls. I've only just started sorting through my mail when I get tired again. Comcast... Verizon... Direct Loans... Another wedding invitation? I start into the other room with a wine glass and the brown paper bag my Pinot is hiding inside of, leaving the mail on the table. I take my first sip while I finger through my records. If I flip through them long enough the tips of my fingers will start to smell like the sleeves. I rescued most of these from the flood in my grandparents basement. I heaved all three crates up two flights of stairs and across five states. Duke suits me, so I set the record playing.
The bathtub is already full by the time I finish my second glass of wine. I turn the water off and run my hands along the surface. Its too damn hot, but if turn the faucet any less to the left it'll be too cold. I let the water cool down while I stare at myself in the mirror, tea lights nestled all around me in little glass jars. My whole apartment is filled with that bathwater smell, the song changes and a run my hands along the underside of my breasts. Two nice handfuls, I've been assured and I'm really hoping that's the case. Another glass of wine and I'm in the tub. I stretch my legs under the water and the heat prickles my skin. Drinking in this heat is never wise, but its a calm like no other so I indulge. Over every splash I can still hear the Duke. A date of my gave me twelve cool points when he found out I liked jazz. However, he lost all his cool points when I found out he couldn't fuck. That's harsh-it really is- but for the state of mind I was in at the time, that was standard.
Another ... boyfriend, I guess you might call him, was incredible in bed and as a bonus he was incredibly stupid.I kept him on top of me so he wouldn't feel obligated to talk to me. Is that bad? Is it bad to keep someone like that on standby or is it necessary? Also, he made the mistake of believing we had a good thing. He was sweet, really, and determined to "pull me out of my shell". That's what it was, he thought I was just reserved or shy somehow. It took me leaving his house three times at 3 am for him to understand I was just indifferent. He used to whistle on the phone while I was listening to Miles Davis. Didn't even have the courtesy to whistle along with the song I was listening to, just made up his own shit. So when he stopped calling, I did too.
Third glass down and the water is perfect. My eyebrows are heavy and I'm warm behind the ears- good 'ole Pinot. I've reached that point that I've been thinking about all day. The song changes and I plunge my washcloth into the water between my knees. I wring it out over my shoulders, down my arms and scrub my elbows till their soft. I lean back and rub my chest, rub my shoulder, exhale... I remember he used to touch me like this. He being the one man I crave- the one I always crave. I squeeze my thighs together. Nights like this he would be coming over. Work, dinner, studying would be out of the way. I'd answer the door and it'd be over.
The water's too hot.
Once he came over and we didn't even talk. Not once. He watched me put on some music and draw the curtains. With all that happened that night what I remember most is his smile, that beautiful smile and those beautiful lips. This was long before the stupid one, but I remember. I remember his hand in my hair, at the back of my head and him breathing me in like he'd die if he didn't. And he stayed. Then he left, but not a minute before or after I wanted him to. My skin felt different when I was with him. My head felt different with him- wasn't so crowded, wasn't so noisy. Days went by like hours, hours like minutes...while he kept coming back, while I kept calling him back. He got to me, got into me, got under my skin, got in my head then left it there. I get butterflies like no one's had butterflies and sink down in the tub. Fuck him. I could never shake the high of him.
One more glass of wine and I'll get out. I'll change the music and check my email. I'll RSVP to that wedding before I forget entirely. Salmon for dinner. Cheesecake for dessert. I'll change the sheets and read before bed. It'll be dark. It'll be dark when I close my eyes and I'll try not to remember. I'll try not to imagine him or want him. I'll sleep. I'll sleep.
The water's cold.
Adjustment.
Sitting with my eyes closed. Its dark everywhere else and quiet everywhere else but I still have to close my eyes to drown it all out. The house creaking, someone shifting in bed under the sheets, a breeze whipping itself softly around the corner of the house- the quiet; its all too fucking loud. Because all that quiet only amplifies everything bouncing around in my head. Those thoughts that wake me out of my sleep or (like most days) keep me from sleep in the first place.
There's nothing worse than your own mind nagging at you. Not your parents, not your girlfriend, not your man. No, when you're own brain flicks on a whole hour and 23 minutes before you do and starts cataloging shit for you to do, all on its own- that's irritating. Now this may be a condition, that is, it may be temporary. Rather, I hope it's temporary. Just the result of something else I may eventually be able to fix.
In my mind there's a game plan. In my heart there's another. And like in everyone's life, there are good days and bad days. Good days occur when Game Plan #1 and Game Plan #2 cross, when they coincide (when everybody plays nice). Bad days occur when Plans 1 and 2 sabotage one another and are more frequent. And so I've arrived at that point in my life where you're supposed to splice all that together. Create a mashup of everything I need to do and what I want to do. That's it, that's the key to getting rid of this nag.
We'll see how this goes.
There's nothing worse than your own mind nagging at you. Not your parents, not your girlfriend, not your man. No, when you're own brain flicks on a whole hour and 23 minutes before you do and starts cataloging shit for you to do, all on its own- that's irritating. Now this may be a condition, that is, it may be temporary. Rather, I hope it's temporary. Just the result of something else I may eventually be able to fix.
In my mind there's a game plan. In my heart there's another. And like in everyone's life, there are good days and bad days. Good days occur when Game Plan #1 and Game Plan #2 cross, when they coincide (when everybody plays nice). Bad days occur when Plans 1 and 2 sabotage one another and are more frequent. And so I've arrived at that point in my life where you're supposed to splice all that together. Create a mashup of everything I need to do and what I want to do. That's it, that's the key to getting rid of this nag.
We'll see how this goes.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Yo.
For any of you who are new to this blog, just want to say welcome & thanks for stopping by.
This is an exercise for me- trying to get through some serious writer's block. Working through life with my words here, so any feedback is greatly appreciated.
Not sure what to read first? Here are some of my friend's favorites:
Child Theory
Gimmie.
The Recession is Real.
Boondocks.
Contentment.
Quality Children's Programming.
3x Factor.
BS
This is an exercise for me- trying to get through some serious writer's block. Working through life with my words here, so any feedback is greatly appreciated.
Not sure what to read first? Here are some of my friend's favorites:
Child Theory
Gimmie.
The Recession is Real.
Boondocks.
Contentment.
Quality Children's Programming.
3x Factor.
BS
And please check out the other pages: Shoe Stop & Soundtrack
Sunday, September 12, 2010
BS.
It would have been so easy. So very easy.
As a matter of fact I planned on it being very easy to be on complete bullshit this past weekend. I had plans, I was excited- hype even- I'm making moves. Or I was supposed to.
On bullshit, you ask?
The State of Being On Bullshit (TSBOB) can be negative, however in this instance it was the state of having certain intentions. Although not all intentions were "good", all intentions resulted in "good" things. Its usually a statement, at the beginning of the evening, weekend, party... whatever. You say it so that everyone knows not to halt those intentions and to (if they can successfully) move them right along in your favor.
TSBOB means lots of raised eyebrows, glossed lips and crossed legs. There's lots of communication being done between people without a whole lot of talking. Music, or specific songs rather, can be very suggestive. While On Bullshit you are extremely susceptible to suggestive songs and poor judgment. This is also why it is important to state aloud that Bullshit has commenced.
Its sad, but still hilarious how certain things are excusable when under the premise of Bullshit. There's a lot of "SMH' going on and you smile despite yourself. Even if you know better... that shit was good.
100 percent worth it.
While On Bullshit reality can become real glossy. Its a montage of everything you want and a presentation of all the opportunities to have it. Then with the addition of said suggestive music, TSBOB becomes just like a music video. You're walking slow and sexy (so you think) and timing all your moves to the beat of the song: for example with Movies (by Ashanti) you have approximately 4 minutes and 14 seconds to float across the party and secure his attention.
TSBOB can be overwhelming at times. But most of the time its fucking great. That's why it is so overwhelmingly shitty when TSBOB goes wrong. Or worse, when its wasted. Or when some fucked up act of nature prevents you from sealing the deal on your SBOB.
As a matter of fact I planned on it being very easy to be on complete bullshit this past weekend. I had plans, I was excited- hype even- I'm making moves. Or I was supposed to.
On bullshit, you ask?
The State of Being On Bullshit (TSBOB) can be negative, however in this instance it was the state of having certain intentions. Although not all intentions were "good", all intentions resulted in "good" things. Its usually a statement, at the beginning of the evening, weekend, party... whatever. You say it so that everyone knows not to halt those intentions and to (if they can successfully) move them right along in your favor.
TSBOB means lots of raised eyebrows, glossed lips and crossed legs. There's lots of communication being done between people without a whole lot of talking. Music, or specific songs rather, can be very suggestive. While On Bullshit you are extremely susceptible to suggestive songs and poor judgment. This is also why it is important to state aloud that Bullshit has commenced.
Friends will respond: "Yeah, you real OB right now."
Its sad, but still hilarious how certain things are excusable when under the premise of Bullshit. There's a lot of "SMH' going on and you smile despite yourself. Even if you know better... that shit was good.
100 percent worth it.
While On Bullshit reality can become real glossy. Its a montage of everything you want and a presentation of all the opportunities to have it. Then with the addition of said suggestive music, TSBOB becomes just like a music video. You're walking slow and sexy (so you think) and timing all your moves to the beat of the song: for example with Movies (by Ashanti) you have approximately 4 minutes and 14 seconds to float across the party and secure his attention.
TSBOB can be overwhelming at times. But most of the time its fucking great. That's why it is so overwhelmingly shitty when TSBOB goes wrong. Or worse, when its wasted. Or when some fucked up act of nature prevents you from sealing the deal on your SBOB.
Five Star Family.
There's something to be said about spending time with good people.
It is an amazing feeling when you walk away from your friends feeling refreshed and optimistic. Besides just having a good time with friends, you feel good after you leave them. You feel like you spent your day wisely for having spent it with them.
Had a crazy, busy weekend- Fabo. Every minute of it was Fabo. Me and my girl rent a car- nice lil whip with amazing mileage and hightailed it back down to University. Our annual tailgate is usually great but this year it was especially awesome. It takes us three hours to make it downstate in the Versa, arrive just in time for cocktails. Great friend number one, Christine has one of the best apartments on campus. With two full bathrooms and bedrooms, she's our number one candidate for a place to stay. Did I mention she's exceptional company? Always a story to tell, food and drink in the fridge, and new shoes to show off.
Great friends number 2 and 3 stop by after dinner. Two of my favorite men in the world, and BANG BANG fun has absolutely commenced. Every hour consisted of laughter on top of laughter. We did it up real Celebrity Friday & Saturday with five inch heels and round after round of champagne. Apparently we were just in the right place because we kept running into good quality people. You know those friends you don't see or talk to very often, but seeing them just adds to your buzz.
Oh and lets not forget Freshman patrol. Yes me and the girls were on massive bullshit. Keeping an eye out for all the cuties. I was surprised, I saw a good few of them. Just all smiles- real Chris Brown and shit. Adorable. Nothing better than a young man who knows you've got your shit together and admires you because he thinks you might some fulfill some high school fantasy of his.
We shut it down. All weekend.
But on the note of good friends. Just want to say, I love you all. Life is real short, but ya'll are making it interesting!
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