To tell you the truth,

I try not to miscons-true...

TRoUblE drips from my lips

as I lie to you.

A story so simple as

True Love,

taboo. 

Fall slinks crinkled leaves off its branches

and throws its cloak at your feet.

Trees put on a new, vibrant "do".

The sun comes out  to play when the 

moon stays at home.

You can still feel the heat even when

night has come.

The air sweats, mingling with warm, dewy skin.

Your heart beats in sync with each cricket call.

Summer nights become as wild

as the life surrounding you.

The reason "only" is so close

to "lonely" is by letter replacement and 

omission. 

Instead of suffering with you,

I'd rather take that "L"

and be alone, and, hell, even if I take another "L" I'll still be a-one.

Don't mistake only for lonely,

'cause as long as I'm loving myself,

I'll never be lonely.

A contract, written in computed text,

maybe a voice mail.

It's strictly business as usual,

How unusual...

When I say "Bye", it comes out

so confused with a question mark 

hanging on the end, refusing to soften its grip.

We've surpassed the innocent messages,

subliminal convo, and skintimate adventures so,

How did we go from, "Hey, so when will you see me again?" To, 

"Ok, how does this proposal look? Good? Good. Ok. Bye."

-___-

Arms on the clock slow down 

on Friday.

Holding the suspense each

round that it makes.

By the time noon comes,

hunger is null.

I ponder what I'd like to do 

as the day's end arrives soon.

Painting with a Twist...yes!

Drinking wine, more or less.

Maybe take a turn at tennis

Afterwards, a pint of Guinness?

Tip, tap the pen dances on the desk

Back to it until work day comes

to rest.

Oh, Friday,

you are the worst and the best.

Like sharp shards on the floor,

I avoid disappointment.

I hate the feeling from head to toe...

Heart strings pull and tug,

Lashes sweep tears back into red eyes,

Nausea hits the gut forcefully.

It's not the end of the world,

but for the moment,

I think it's true.

Whispers circle my head, saying,

"God, you can't do anything right!"

"In trouble again???"

"You were never good enough."

Minor problems seem major

and every one of those small annoyances

becomes harder to shake.

How can I feel optimistic and excited about my future 

when I feel that I have become

what I fear the most:

A disappointed disappointment?

Silky smooth in paper cup,

I sip 'til you are all drunk up.

Notes of spice and sweet enticing

sugar is just so inviting!

Warm, dark liquid wraps itself

'round tongue and teeth 

and starts to melt

down throat to coat your coldest part

hugs your tummy, warms your heart. 

What have I done to deserve this favor?

Yummy drinks of bold flavor...

You, dear drink, I'll always savor.

What do you see

when you see me?

Do you see a white girl 

with red-tinged curls?

Or a light-skinned 

black queen?

What do you notice 

when you observe me?

Am I too reserved for your liking?

Is there something you think I'm hiding?

What do you really want to say

when you speak to me?

"Are you mixed? 'Cause you can't be black!"

"How do you get your hair like that?"

"Why are you so quiet?"

Well, this is what I see, 

what I think

and what I want to say 

to you:

I can see right through you.

I think that you are thinking too hard.

"Bless your little heart."

I've alway been one,

and a good one, in fact!

I've overslept, binge-watched shows,

taken plenty naps.

Guilt would swell 

up my throat

and tingle behind my ears.

My cheeks would burn

and red they'd be 

from stares from curious peers.

And now I've learned 

to turn procrastination absolutely

inside out.

I've forced myself to wake early

and think, What's life all about?

I'm still partially lazy

and enjoy a nap or two,

but I'm more motivated than before 

and I know there is nothing I can't do.

Teeth grinding against one another,

jaw on the verge of breaking.

Once again, the tongue is held.

True feelings push lips open,

wanting to be heard, but cower

under 

Professionalism!

Kindness!

You don't want to be called a Bitch, do you?

Words come out, almost rushed,

followed by a slight aftertaste of 

disappointment. 

That's truth for you!

Always wanting to be the last one heard. 

Tolerance, my friend, I've learned to be tolerant of you. :)