a story of atoms

This is where I document thoughts that race through my head and swim through my veins.

Sometimes,

i feel like you’re in the room with me.

i want to talk to you about happiness.

about everything

i write him love letters that he’ll never read.

people try to define you while you’re still writing yourself into existence.

 

men do not love women.

they desire them.

expect women to bend and break to their every whim.

but they do no love them.

and if they love them they do not respect them.

respect is something you give to a man, regardless of his looks or social status.

but it is not something you give to women.

you leave us empty. yet, we still rise. bear.

endure.

and somehow you think you are still stronger than these bones and this heart.

 

Brown culture is being held responsible for the way men feel towards your appearance.

Sometimes I feel like my tongue is a ghost and I can’t say everything I want to say.

You wear silence like a cape.

stuff loneliness into your throat

promise mother that you need no one

your heart is somewhere hanging from a rib

hands lathered in olive oil and honey

but your eyes, my dear,

your eyes are drowning.