For months, I did not have the urgency
to write; I was “not feelin’ it,” and almost
thought about quitting; I didn’t feel like
I had anything left to say, my poetic justice
took a break. And now, I’m back in the game.

Back in my day, children had time to grow up
there was no rushing into adulthood
outside was the “hotspot;” back in my day,
disrespect came with a slap, and TV was more of
a treat and not an all-day ice cream sundae.

You come

—bearing your half-filled soul, spilling
your heart beans, and cleansing
your mind on my sleeves.

You say

—you’ve been there, done that; left
no stone unturned in your neck
of the woods; still, you cannot find peace.

You explain

—everything; all your life, you’ve been
wandering around with no genuine
sense of direction; there’s no such thing
as hope or love on your side of the street.

You bleed

—ripping your heart out and watching it
beat shouldn’t be an option.

You hope

—you’ve been on your journey
for a long time, and you’re used to being
a lonely soul; someday, you’d like
to taste a happy ending.