sky shore sea by kali tenee (that's ME)

It's been a long time since I've graced this blog with anything other than attempts at breaking the seal on my writer's block. SO...that makes what I'm about to say even MORE scrumptious!

I RELEASED A POETRY BOOK!!! Yes! Kali Tenee aka Kween aka Keys...has written a poetry book and dropped it in the middle of a November day like Beyonce! lol

I'd been working on "sky shore sea" for about a year, in secret...trying to make sure that whatever was placed in this collection of poetic thought, would be something I could be uber proud of...and it is.

I also did the cover (yaaay me) and because it was a self-publishing situation, I had to edit for myself. I don't think I did too badly (even though I caught a couple of oopsies AFTER the fact) LOL

I'd love for you all to check it out. It's available on Amazon and Createspace.  It makes a perfect Christmas gift...well, it makes a perfect ANY time gift :)

I pray that your holidays are lovely and that your New Year is a beautiful ushering into BETTER days.

Check me out in these places:

Fancy Face Kreations on Facebook
Website: www.fancyfacekreations.wix.com/fancyface
Twitter: @kweenflyy
Instagram: @fancyfacekreations
tumblr

Buy "sky shore sea" at:

Amazon
Createspace

Love,

wait just a minute, brotha

this poem is in response to a spoken word piece you can find here by mike geffner.

i was a tad heated by his need to justify his choice to be with non-white women over sistas, by vilifying sistas (while also mocking a typified version of a black woman). anyway, without further ado...

now...now...my "brotha"
let's not play the blame game
...seems to me
like you're extra salty
because you bit off more than you could chew
you chose a rat
from the hood
that wasn't no good
looking for that ever elusive
and much talked about good good...
lemme guess?
she was fine?
light- skinned divine?
did she have that cola bottle shape?
was she the one all the girls loved to hate
[making her the envy of all your friends]
giving you rights to brag
on that hottie you bagged...
yet, you thought that trite shit
wouldn't come to an end?
hmmm...
lemme see,
you paid them bills
because her head gave you chills
and though you lived with your mama
you were a good man, still...
and you're tight because she preferred thug drama?
...but it's "US" though, right?
so, you chose this ho
who equated ass with cash
who chased thugs with cars...
am i right so far?
and...according to your mocking
popped gum while talking...
and you're blaming "SISTAS"...
for this bullshit, mister?

no sir, you may want to stop right there
let's be 100 and let me make this clear...
just say you fell in love
no explanation required
don't shift accountability
onto a sea of sistas' lack of humility
because,
while you were macking ms. tacky
and chasing big booties and just-right thighs
some geeked out fat girl
was praying you'd see her past her size
and perhaps,
her hair wasn't as long
her personality not as strong
you had on shades to look through her
but want US to throw rose-colored glasses on
so we can "get over"
that you chose peach over brown?
i could respect your choice
to be with whomever you want
far easier if you weren't
trying to simulatneously front
making hoodrats and hos
your scapegoat for your woes
when the truth is this...

you chased what you saw
seeing no flaws
then you cried foul
after finding your supposed diamond
was just a bit too raw
YOU chose the woman
who used her body for barter
YOU chose the woman
who used you for sugar, daddy...
now you wanna get cute
because you're dating beth, jane and maddy?

now, you're all
"fuck you and fuck her, too"
because your daydreams of rocking her world
were over so soon
due to you never being a glimpse in her moon
and as you were watching her,
someone more suitable was watching you
whom YOU didn't see
in all the revelry...?
you wanted the trophy so badly
that you may have run past one
willing to run the ball beside YOU, sweetie
so, don't blame ALL black women
because you chose the WRONG black woman
if you like peach over brown
well then "get on down"
but don't box us in
to this group you resent
among us are the ones
who WOULD have given you a chance
had you not been wrapped up
in a bad romance...
we all have been through
i've been hurt, too
but, I keep hope alive
for my ebony king to arrive
no one chased you off
you ran in the other direction
and guess what?
it's NOT a direct reflection
because you get to love...who...you...choose
just don't make this about win or lose
and blame everyone else...
just say you love who you love
and keep your excuses to yourself


© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

perfectly alone

i can remember

even now

how before we were split

from one soul

into endless pieces

how the kind tone

in your love

gave me eagle wings

placed posture in my stance

gave grace to my dance

and added immeasurable time

to my life span

i haven't forgotten,

the way your praise of me

was full-bodied

outspoken

genuine and far-reaching

your genius my genius

me learning, you teaching

you everything

i wasn't seeking

the first

to ever stretch your hand

past the skin on my breasts

wanting mostly

just to tap on my soul

stoke its fires

and be what i needed

to keep the pyres heated

your valiance

and chivalry

protection and proclamation

given so easily

no thought required

no return desired

so, with all those things

nestled sweetly between

then and now

how is it,

that the source

of these zealous declarations

are trapped off

in painful echoes

in my mind

heart

from your lips

with no thing offered

with no thing sacrificed

with no urgency applied?

how could you love me so,

still...love me so

and leave me

teetering on a pedestal

with no way down

no room for a companion

on this idyllic plateau

of your esteem

and left with

the fear of heights?

what am i to do

with all i remember

and no way to forget

what i once had

deserve

but, cannot seem to touch?

...i want to know

how do i fall from this high place

and in love again?

© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

kiss of change

when he met me
i wore red lips
and fingertips
my hair was as high as my esteem
my clothes
hugging me
a taste of my embrace
he met me,
my laugh loud
booming
with heart skips
and deep soul dips
and if there was anything
i didn't embody
he wanted to lend me
starting with my body

...so he reached for me
caressed my hand
and tickled my heart
laughed me into a tizzy
and won me clean
the more we made love
and saw each other naked
the more he wanted to cover me
he smudged my lip stain
i was too seductive
he took down my hair
"wear it like this"
the tips of my fingers and toes
he wanted bare
so i did...
my wardrobe loosened
lost color
...and life
yet, when the light left my eyes
he resented me
he was disgusted
and my power over him
turned off...
he tried to make sense
of why my kisses weren't the same
why my hold no longer held
why my face had no frame
and yet it was me who'd gone limp...

he changed me
to tame me
to keep me...he censored me
snuffed the fire inside
by masking the outside
...and he hated me for it

i should've fought the mold
bucked what i was told
instead...
i pacified to satisfy
i was the one who needed love the most
yet still dispensing it like liquid soap
even though,
the more i gave
the more unclean i felt

after him,
no other can change my colors
knock off my crown
or change my gear
from jeans to gowns
my laugh will echo
made of composed rhythms
i will be draped with self worth
and wrapped in dignity
with my all,
i will remain
heated with the passion
of red lips
and a spirit that's free
no one's love
is worth...changing me


© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

poem #11: it's like that?

so
you are
just going to
keep it this way?
you're okay with the silence?

you...
don't see
how things could've
at one time...changed
had you just said something?

"I"
have to
ALWAYS speak first
the one to change
apologize, clarify and then justify?

I
am sick
to damn death
of folks creating space
and being angry about it later!

Am
I not
worthy of you...
your love and concern?
your loyalty, remorse, compassion or time?

OR
is this
a show of
your own personal guilt
and reticence to claim accountability?

just
make sure
you tell it
the way it happened
including your own part, too...

DON'T
make me
your scapegoat excuse
and label me bad
because I served zero fucks...

...and yea...it's like that...and that's the way it is.


© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

poem #9: always and never

i realized the other night,

that i am still in love with you...

...subconsciously

no matter whose heart shape i trace

or who manages to nuzzle into mine...

in dream time...

my love is yours

the way we fit

[in my dreams]

is the way we fit, then...

and in spite of the reality

that is my awake state

of not wanting you

or needing you

...in my dreams

you're ever present

and a calm to my chaos

my left finger

is always weighted with your promise

and in my slumber...

i hunger to bear your seeds

and i've even dreamed that

you've saved me...

called my name,

as i lay dying in suspended time,

and i woke right up

heart beating

with memories of your hand in mine

why it is that

in the day's light

i'm immune to you

is beyond conscious reason that

i still manage to traipse through

painted dream scenes

with you and mostly you

i realize,

that maybe i'm just in love with nostalgia

and in my dreams...

you're on constant rewind

in a time

where you were all i knew

and now that my eyes are open

 i can't un-see

the unworthiness of you

the way you'll always do what you do

so, i dream you

in perfect state

far better than the truth

which i shake loose

when i awake and remember,

i can never love you again

© 2011 Kween Kiwi

poem #8: midnight oil

As midnight creeps in...
tipping lightly around my awareness
I sit in still thought
pondering
how it is I could've been a fool
looped tightly around his middle finger
while he fucked over my love...

Regret plays blaring notes
on my heart
convincing me in a moment
of temporary ire
that I shouldn't have ever made his acquaintance
that, his invite
should have been declined
ignored
blocked
and forgotten...
but, then...
I come to...
not wanting to trade a single
word,
minute,
affectation,
dream,
notion,
or hope

Even as I tread forward...
finished with uncertainty
and open-ended breaks,
I see how his place
was invaluable
and classically meaningful...
glad to have undergone
another metamorphosis
causing the rebirth
of the original butterfly's freedom flight...
knowing now,
the depths of my love
patience
and heart's core...

It was all a deliberate process
of loving
learning
lavishing in and about
life...
for a fleeting,
yet eternal time frame...
he brought the biggest of smiles,
heartiest of laughs,
warmest concerns...
and the most guttural
and painful tears...
every nuance of agony
a cracking in my cocoon
giving way to unique
elegantly splashed
brighter,
more expansive
and intensely colored wings

I will always
hold tightly
with the strength of
the biggest arms
and something
that can only be described
as agape love,
for a man
whose hands never grazed my skin
whose breath never heated my lips
whose eyes,
never met with mine...

I'm going to bed now...
my dreams await...


© 2010 Kween Kiwi

poem #4: no o'clock in the morn

the 3 o'clock hour
strikes
and hits real hard
i
just
cant
sleep
out of my mind
out of my body
experiencing
tears torn in my astral fabric
of repetitive dreams
cycling underwater
backstroking through clouds
ass backwards
feelings so real
that i awake
tears like flowing milk
without my honey
no o'clock
in the morning
eyes wide
seeing nothing
except
the lonely...
except
the void...
except
me...
here
to travel
through mental states
searching for a place
to live without you
i
cant...
i only pray
that every day
gets me closer
to closure
nearer
to understanding
further
from the frustrating
flustering
fucking
pain
i beg
for sleep
in the wake of you
i crave
to never yearn
never long
never need
never...
fucking...
care...
that you're gone
somewhere
not caring
about me
the 4 o'clock hour
hits
and i'm still here
waiting
for time
to fast forward
just so
i can sleep

© 2008Kween Kiwi 

poem #3: subconsciously

subconsciously,

i've begun to crave him

i must want his love

i didn't know i wanted his touch,

his smile,

to open me back up

to daydreams

and reanimate

the long sleeping love for love,

seemingly tucked away

with years

of relationships

and disappointments

then,

 out of a subconscious nowhere

astral dreams

of marriage

and declarations of loving me

until our souls no longer linger...

begin to prod my desires awake

i've begun to search him

in crowds

and aisles

and lots

to see if his eyes

will explain the why

...why is it that these thoughts

have arrived

and from where

did they derive?

i need to grasp

the yen for him

why is it

i want him to profess his love

to declare

with poetic flair...

that the ones before

were throw-aways

from bad catches

because...

wherever he found himself before,

 life was feckless

no depth

and no height

not quite dark,

yet not enough light

...and there in lies his quest

to disrupt my last two night's of rest

holding a torch

of the love i lost

a dream's guide

to find the love inside

an astral hand

to lead me to love

emerging tangible

and fulfilled in his eyes

and the enveloping hug

that has clearly been

the catalyst to my dreams

...good night.

my people's music

my people's music,

be jammin

it's sacrilegious in it's form

sin sittin' next to gospel

guitar rocking next to tambourines

humming hymns

on beats of blues

set on strings of jazz

and that piano...well, bang on brotha...

you can hear the porch jive

and liquored lyrics

on high falsettos

and the drums?

well...

go back to Africa

and Brazil

and them islands

pick one

because it's all us

all shades of brown

getting down

with sounds emanating

from a thump off of a circle of souls

dating BC...

"before cd's"

i hit play

and my emotions sway

i weep,

at how deep

music has me

how could it not though?

doesn't it make you wanna lay in it?

bathe in it?

take a deep breath

immerse yourself underneath

the clicks of cymbals

that tick with toe taps

and...

well...

yea...

my people's music

has healing properties

moving through muscles

revving hearts

and purifying minds

a placebo from peabo...

a shot from chaka...

a pill from jill...

a flow from freddie...

and everything is alright.

my people's music...

it's a soul thing.

i await you

i heart you
i flower you
i cloud you
i space you
i rain you
i cake you
i book you
i lei you
i drizzle you
i butterfly you
i pen you
i write you
i lace you
i drink you
i scent you
i film you
i pour you
i lyric you
i flame you
i mani you
i pedi you
i massage you
i sorbet you
i browse you
i dawn you
i sunrise you
i day you
i sunset you
i night you
i twilight you
i open you
i picture you
i stir you
i house you
i blog you
i fondle you
i poem you
i comb you
i dance you
i shower you
i inhale you
i nap you
i giggle you
i draw you
i fluff you
i dream you
i swim you
i light you
i duvet you
i save you

do i have to say,
that every day
in every way
in every thing
that is beautiful,
significant,
pleasurable,
needed,
given,
felt,
been or will be...
you are there?
the one, i will love...
shower,
cradle,
speak,
stroke,
baby,
see...is already in progress.
...i await you

coffee black, no sugar

coffee and thoughts

jelly and tears

buttered memories

breakfast alone...slow and painful bites

melancholy set...

timed not to sulk to a crisp

watching tv...or it's watching me

can't tell at all

hoped to share a cup once

kisses and sips

making a memory or two

breakfast...me and you

guess i'll sip and think

nosh and sniffle

forget what went wrong

watch TV alone

doze and wake obliviously
try and write
my pen looming over paper
threatening to compose...i suppose

cold coffee
stiff spoon
cold morning
it's past noon
and all i can think...
against the spoon's clink
was that you were once here
and the coffee was brewing
the scent was inviting
my longing for morning love
gone with the steam off my cup
i ain't hungry,
you're eating elsewhere
and i'm stuck
with a cup of coffee...
black...no sugar.

breaking up with heartbreak

i should
be used to heartbreak by now...
my invisible friend
clingy,
needing my full attention
unwilling to share me
with Love's affectionate promise
heartbreak
stalking me...
peeking into my windows
pained by the smile in my eyes
thinking of ways
to interrupt the scene
hating it's not "him"
wishing there wasn't anyone
BUT him...
why,
why wont heartbreak
give me space?
accept that
we're incompatible
and that i lose myself
when he embraces me,
swallowing me in the
dark swill of emotions...
i cringe at his touch
and shrink under his glare
heartbreak...
this will NOT work!
heartbreak,
can be so selfish
disregarding of my time
heartbreak,
can be controlling
needing downright
copyrights
to my soul
he invades my space
alienates me from my friends
pits me against Love
with whispers
of instigating lies
distorted for the perverse pleasure....
of stopping my heart
objecting
and insinuating we're a couple
lying to my suitors
that i am taken...
i need heartbreak,
to understand
i am love
i cannot b r e a t h e
without it...
Love and i WILL marry
and no amount
of histrionics
and flagrant dramatics
will cease what is divinely mine
Love wants to wrap me
in eternity,
reflect  me
in the very image,
that is His...
encircle me with more
than my earthly mind
and spiritual heart
could dare forge
in a dream or a vision
it is over heartbreak,
"you were never good for me...
i was never good for you..."
'til we meet again...
let's not.

recall

i'm walking...
a remembered path of passion
lit with faint pitches of woo
...long kisses between two
i recall,
the puppy love
that grew full on canines
before it was through
once a splendid escape
of whispered winks
and finger traces...
the phantom caresses
of his young tongue
across new bosoms
growing pangs
the broken seal
of a deflowering
took on the face of shame
denial dressed formally
as a concern for viewing eyes...
before long...
the feeling of love
had withered away
the petals of naivete
drifting on the cold winds
of chilled heat...

i recall,
the may-december love
of a grip too tight...
a toxic drink,
of brute strength and spite
once believed,
to be the one
enduring and pure
but left me needing more
how chivalrous he was,
protective and gallant...
even though
his sword was often drawn
without cause
and paranoia grew taller
with claws...
and my heart would thump
then pause...
every time
he entered
the room
when the end tip-toed toward us
i can remember exhaling
heaving sighs
of grief-filled tears
a caged bird
afraid of flight...

i recall,
the intangible love
of echoed beats
and cemented feet
love reverberating past cell lines
that never manifested past his lines
my northern chill
to his southern heat...
*singing*
"first...time, i saw your face
my heart just erased
every guy
i
knew
be...
fore you..."
and instantly
my poetry was conceived
to be lyrics,
to his musical keys
and i became,
keys...
yet,
he had a flock of fans
and he himself
was a fan of ladies
him singing in their ear,
his intentions
wearing winged shoes
tapping on heart strings
~sigh~
eventually...
the notes became muted
the pen dried
and we waved bye...

i am recalling,
the love
the falling...
the bawling
the crawling
for forgiveness
second chances
and best wishes...
the ones,
that weren't the one
the tender flavor
of new love
the hunger for
fulfilled and hopeful days
that never came
...all i want to call to my heart
is love,
that lasts beyond the novelty
that casts out frivolity
and small things
given power
to be mountainous
i want to call to me...
the spirit of oneness
with one particular one
with whom i can
recall and
reminisce and
retell the tale of love
with over and over...
i don't want to recall another thing...
except maybe...the beginning of a lifelong love

more than

i love you more than
the stretch of my arms
or the capacity of a human heart
or even...
the span of an angel's wings
i love you more than
my mind's scope
or my soul's hope
more than the furthest reach
of the longest rope
i love...
more than love can be defined
more than the infinite
space of time
more than a sky's height
or an Alaskan night
more than
and fiercer than
and greater than
a lioness' fight
and even then
its rougher than
but easier than
a kayo on fight night
that is
how...
i love you
the stretch of imagination
and a dream's escalation
the force and pull
of a planetary rotation
with showers of fire
and atmospheric changes
resulting in novas
and supernovas
of super loving explosions
*catching breath*
is a mere display of
how
much
i love you...
you...have...NO...clue
that i love you
more than the shells that hold us
and the experiences
and life
thats taken hold of us
more than the eons
that separate our past lives
more than
all the love stories ever scribed
more than
the heaving cries
of broken hearts
or
stuttering mouths
in awe of art
more than the echoing pains
of a child's birth
more than
the heat contained
at the core of the earth
when i say,
i love you...
know that
its more than
even "I" know...

[sigh]

[sigh]
high anxiety sets in,
shoulders tense
head down,
worries up...
my attempts to smooth away
the kinks in my neck,
fall short...
my fingertips
not long enough to
trail my spine's length
i'm in heat
skin overly sensitive
to flashing thoughts
hands cupping,
kneading and needing...
wantonly wanting...
receiving nothing
[sigh]
performing moments
that haven't happened,
reliving the ones
too faded
to satisfy the urgent stirring...
falling in and out of love
with the imagined touches
and the deep thrusts
someone pushing me
over the edge of my ecstasy
past the point i can't see...
[sigh]
it ain't enough...
what is keeping me up
past dawn
has little to do
with the cold side of the bed
and everything to do
with the warmest part of my heart...
i yen for soul mate zen
the center of me
created to be
half of love's pinnacle
is restless...
[sigh]
it's like,
the closer a presence nears...
the louder the "silence" becomes
the tingling,
vibrates highly
almost void of sound
or human exposition
a sign of impending arrival...
it's like,
your spirit's tuning fork
quivers...
[sigh]
he's coming,
and the sensors
located at the base of my spine,
nape of my neck,
center of my cleave,
the circumference of my navel...
is sensitive
to rawness
and all i can do is...
[sigh]

heart condition

the absence of love

doesn't always breed desperation

the separation from love

at times conditions...

prepares a void

to be refilled

by the One who

garners our implicit faith...

plainly,

i learn to live

with just the blessing to give

that He may,

take his holy ewer

and fill me up again...

humans,

don't make it easy...

oh, do they complicate 

the simplest...

selfishly inflicting their right to be

on me

i abhor the cliched reply

that,

"i am...who i am"

when the truth is

that you are who He's made you to be

someone capable
of living purposefully

...beyond your surface vision
of self and ego

there lives the reflection

of that beautiful image

He created diligently...

at any time,

your power to ignite 

the fires of agape love

can spark and change your immediate world

the things you want to renovate

will tumble down

when you supplicate

and then rise like a building

as a new line in the sky...

who you are
is who you choose to be

maybe it's who you are...

to safely hide the sensitivities

and to justify the inability

to trust you... and not so much me.

and so the beat goes on...

that i'm loving humans

to the point of emptiness,
until i lean...

head back...

eyes closed...

mouth open...

to receive the love He spills into me

and that there,

isn't a thing i can explain...

not the why i do it,

not the why "they"
don't always reciprocate

just the truth,

that His vessel,

feeds my vessel,

and i, in turn feed yours...

and if more of us fed love
to the unloved,
and...put down our cups

and picked up our ladles...

no one may ever feel like,

in order to deal with absence of love...

they had to condition themselves to do without it

writing my way through...two

this is redundant

damnit,

this longing

to scribe...

looking intensely

for the right vibe,

playing music

and reading...

reminiscing on when

words came easy

damn,

i just want to write...

is the thing i scream silently,

so what is it?

why do i get stuck in prose

looking for a poem?

why do i find myself,

free-styling stanzas

of vexation

to force OUT of me

what used to flow like

fountain springs?

i've been doing inventory

drinking up what drops fall

as liquid incentive...

yet i ache at the stillness

is it me?

am i changing?

...is what i ask,

has my muse

left to bring blissful whispers

of worded pleasures

to another?

[whore]

is my time up and over?

have i squandered

my poetic account?

or am i a lifetime member

of the torture and ecstasy

that comes with the artistry?

or have i become too used to the enstasy

...spending too much time

inside my mind,

rummaging through

experiences of old,

instead of creating

new slide shows

and new tides to row...

even though,

i do feel it...a little

that purge pushing past

smoke screens

and veils of veiled attempts

to ignore the tickling

at the base of my spine...

and if i had to be honest,

i'm may be in denial...

that what begs to be written,

ain't what i want to be scribbling...

hiding out in this question

when the answer,

lies barefaced

with glaring eyes...

that i need to quit trying to make it

bend to me

knowing i'm it's slave...

and not the other way around

damnit...

i knew when i started asking,

two entries ago...

that i was rebelling

with my sun's stubbornness

my rising's detachment

and my moon's oblivion...

against the truth...

the truth...

and it's naked ways

beseeching me to see it,

causing blush...all the same

and now,

i'm sitting on the fence

pen ready and unsteady

afraid to see what's left

when the ink dries

blinking blankly

at the reveal...

throwing back the comfort

from what i've tried to conceal

[deep swallow]

i suppose if i obey it

give way to it

and sway with it,

that i'll unblock the passage

and my spirit will stop shimmying

and my head will quit spinning

and my heart will stop seizing...

if i'd only give my muse a reason

to return again...

to write my way through, this too

so, now

i guess i owe y'all a damn poem...

about love...

climb to fall

in the midst of
scaling the heights
of love's tower
and touting it's
power
at some point
into acclimation
one's purpose
for escalation
can become lost
too high of an altitude
can bring about
gasps...
short breaths
from thin air
a cold
so brisk
that it seeps
deeply
past protective gear
raised chills
that burn from pain...
with the claws of cold
a companion of void
settles...
a loud cognizance of one's place
amid nothing,
seeks attention
how, now...does the climb
still hold substance?
whilst looking
for evidence
of love's stretch...
how does one
defeat the demon
of whispered solitude?
the heated impetus
set to give hope to the hopeless
crystallizing...
seizing and freezing out
the belief
that love lies
atop a mountain of obstacles
waiting to be validated...
snuffed out,
by the ascension of
a hurried sense to feed
a worried and dense need...
what occurs...
in the midst of
this sojourn
for love's pinnacle...
is a tinge of deliberation
to loosen the secured fasts
and just fall...
descend with the speed of doubt
more breath stolen
the heart,
imploding from the pressure...
the heart,
beating so fast
that it stills...
flailing and falling
...the end
surely to be met
with spiritual death
no longer adept
in the heights and depth
of love and it's armored vest...
how about,
this daredevil...
repel from the top
and stop.
...why even dare to care?
what will the world have lost,
if i chose to sit
indian style...
at the base of cynicism
and bitter regret
and let the waters
of wasted emotion
drown my champion?
why should i fight to climb?
when it seems...
everyone else
pays love no mind

fall in love with me

fall in love with me

my whole self

not fragments

broken into the

most palatable...

eat me up!

love the crumb of me

the sum of me

the hum

beneath the surface of me

fall IN love with me

my sensitivity

my desire for

your exclusivity

the divine

and incomparable

God in me

fall in love...deeply

with ME

the attitude

that i sometimes can't adjust

the once in a full moon

over the top lust

the more than usual need to bust...~whew~

my need to be right

even when i'm wrong

the moments

when i just need

to be left alone

love ALL of me

fall in LOVE with me

don't recoil from what i can teach

don't flinch at how deep i can reach

don't ice down your heat for me

your fear to be seen

being crazy in love with me...

fall in love, baby

the way i would with you

in love with your truth

not the scripted

and prompted you

i love the you

that's meant for

God, you and your Ruth...

fall in love with me

the one whose love encompasses

vows written

and love unspoken

that touches on notions

and dormant dreams awoken

the one who with pride

your chest puffs than rises

as your "single' knot unties

fall in love

not stumble

or trip

for it's a misconception

that those falling in love

hit pavement with a split

it's a voluntary

RECLINE

back into the arms

of a true love's hold

not some plunge to death

not a nude dive into cold...

fall in love with me...

and i promise...to catch you