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Lately,
Lately when I hit open mics I hear poetic letters, or soliloquies of “I want to tell you”, insert name hear
And I thought to myself,
Why haven’t I written a piece like that?
And I remembered that when it comes to name dropping time I insert fear
I remembered when it comes to dinner time I drive for fast grease or sit still hungry
Avoiding skillets and seasonings of memoirs of being housewife left homely
Homie….lover…..friend, comforter, provider, my beginning, my end….gone where?
How could I say ……when you claim to not even know?
How can I Dear John a poem, when you’re no longer meant to be dear?
How can I transcribe my feelings with ink of pain left on my heart forever seared?
I can four page this, just to envelop it in slices of potential oxygen to sign seal and deliver it where?
So why should I scribe to you what you’re not ready to hear?

Dear past,
I wish, no I pray I could change salted essences of your skewed images
But since my effort is measured in tears, the harder I try the saltier they become
Its inedible,
Left inevitable distorted and nearly cemented in your mere reflection
But mirror this love, echo the laughter,
Attempt to duplicate the moans, screams, pants of ass claps bent backwards and fail
She may call you daddy out of routine not out of premonition
I call you nothing short of what you were meant to be….
Father of my children, provider to our seeds, Adam to my Eve
Nigga please.
Lost? Lost is why you leave?
Give me more make it sore, make it stain,
Make me ooze hatred whenever your name crosses my brain…..Zachary.
Id give any and everything I am to love you once more or hate you till time ends
Because time doesn’t mend, at least it hasn’t, and will is too far to be calculated.
This pain has become saturated. Nothing can hurt me now.
Numbed to the heart crash that brought me down
Id writes you a letter but I’d end it…how?

Lately,
Lately when I hit open mics I hear poetic letters, or soliloquies of “I want to tell you”, insert name hear
And I thought to myself,
Why haven’t I written a piece like that?
And I remembered that when it comes to name dropping time I insert fear
But if I was less fearful my letter would go….to Mr. Jackson, forever yours my tears.