Or What?

The need to write was greater than me. This is the year of poetry Is but all I knew

I got up from my white sheets, stained with all the words I was to write on anything be it an iPad, and Iphone or I.. I was a man on a mission filled to the brink with words that needed uttering with rhythm and conviction and belief. I was armed, armed with a vocabulary and ability to form sentences that not only captivated, but painted pictures of worlds that only my mind could paint.

So write, was the faint whisper from the corners of my brain, pushing.

So, I got up and opened my laptop. I waited for the computer to boot up and in that waiting I looked to the side, to the light that was shining through the curtains and knew that this was to be the beginning. 

That fear was to not override this need to speak.

The cursor on my laptop loaded slower than the man trying to get through slurred speech from intoxication or inability to speak and form a sentence without stuttering.  It loaded and showed me the words loading waiting to be typed and let free.

See fear was more the problem than the inability to overcome that very fear and write. Write the paradox of life, the acronyms of wording, the rhythm of the wording.

And so I decided to take the need and want to give my message to you the listener. Whiling to walk the journey with me and discover depths of me that I was unwilling to share. Before Now

He.. Yes it always had to be a male who was either too mentally challenged to realize your true potential before it was too late

Or too self absorbed to care enough about your fragile little heart

Or too strong to ever let himself feel an emotional connection with you

Or too fragile to fully grasp you

Or.

Or what?

What other excuse is one to put in place to protect these men who are ruthless and couldn't give a shit about the hearts they break?

Oh I sound angry? Go ahead and call me an angry black woman, because the label has worn out like your inability to keep your pants zipped long enough to form a connection with the woman you look to conquer. See, we have heard far too many cries from men crying foul or simply making empty promises. I am not about to count how many times I have heard the words “I am different and I am not  like other guys” or “I have been waiting for a woman like you to change my perspective on love an detach me to love”, yet those statements are followed by the oh so popular “BRB will be right back” or the “LOL I really have no idea how to respond to that” or “ It’s not you it’s me”

Now pardon me for saying, but I crave a man that will shed light on my darkened heart. My hardened heart that will easily open up to a man that pursues it without the fear of endless possibility of hurt. That a man will not run for the nearest hill at the mention of my deceived heart. Now men, before you tell me all men are not the same. Let me ask you this question, “How many hearts have you broken?”

See the anger is not derived from so much the hurt as it is the inconsideration of another human being. See, the want to understand “What is wrong with me” did not come on a crystal clear Sunday morning, but it came when thunder was grasping at the little light left with in me. It’s the similar story of many woman and in the somewhat rare case, men. Who too can relate to broken promises and missiles thrown at their hearts, and a cascade of lies.

Now forgive and lead me not into darkness ever again!