Solange by Seiji Fujimori
it was his voiceit was his mouthit was his lipsnotin his eyesjustin his wordsjustin his kissit wasn’t himit was his laughit was his teethit was his tonguecuz he was young…it was his speechit was his shirtit was his jeansit was his scenthe wasn’t rudehe wasn’t meanbutit wasn’t meantit wasn’t himit was just mehe wasn’t it- jhené aiko efuru chilombo
i used to write songs about u. beautiful phrases with perfect harmonies, my heart would sing their melodies every time i looked in your eyes. i used to write poetry about your eyes and your fingertips and the way it felt when your lips touched mine. my words came naturally and my inspiration never wavered. only in my works of art were you the perfect muse. when i played Rosette it was u who was the subject of my Blues. even now when the thought of what once was repulses me, i have turned into a masochist and played those same songs. listened to the melodies, recited my poetry and hoped that the chorus line didn’t sound as sweet.
all i want for my birthday is the complete series collection of The Cosby Show. thanks in advance.
2 am thoughts: i am thankful for the people in my life, i am thankful for the opportunity to show them love. the difficult part about being single is having love and not knowing who to direct it to, because that one person, the (used to be) center of my universe isn’t there. i am learning to give…