Untitled
We need to have a conversation about your satiation with long drawn out hesitation while I wait for you to make a decision.
A decision that you’ll never make,
an opportunity you’ll never take when it comes to me and you.
Your intentions are not, your purpose is plot trying to acquire what’s illegal for you to have.
I laugh.
I’m not a girl, I’m a woman
I passed that semester with flying colors while you on to the next hoping she’d pretend to be your mother.
I can’t nurse you,
my supply is dry,
I’m beyond the stage of pump and store.
My milk is mental,
spiritual,
lyrical,
physical
reaching your very soul,
my milk supply
filled
replenished
distributed by God no expiration dates,
never gets old,
for the one that’s meant.
Loves currency spent,
a continuous cycle like a washer and dryer put something in,
take something out,
folding it up,
fluffing it out,
smell the aroma,
now shout it out.
Feels good when’s it’s real,
roots so deep love stands without sway,
roots so deep the past gets no play,
roots so deep there’s no loss only learn,
roots so deep I can’t wait till it’s my turn.
So, we need to have a conversation about your hesitation to make a decision you’ll never make.
I made it.
Happy National Poetry Month!