I remember the night that we were at the show...
You had told me that a cute girl had spoken to you...
It wasn't long after she'd left me at the front and dipped back to you...
And over the weeks as we got close, she slithered closer...
At the beach, my intuition was on fire...
Scrutinizing myself while questioning your type, I kept pointing out girls "like her"...
Tiny, pretty, white girls. With the range of a White Claw...
Wearing emo T-shirts that run small...
When you gave it to her, I wondered if I could've had your T-shirt if I had her conceited deceit...
Instead I'm thicc with love and trusting kindness. Goodness knows I'm Black elite...
And I'd hoped that you weren't basic. That you wouldn't choose that bitch you'd lean in to whisper was mean...
The one who'd only poison your soul and rehash your traumas and oxidize your rusting self-esteem...
My best friend who knew it all. Who knew I was down for you on sight...
Who had assured me, "He's cute for you! You have so much in common. For you (Black woman) he might!"
Then, behind my back, I peeped her blowing up your phone. Telling her boyfriend you were nothing, and to me a good friend. Alllthewhile in your DMs, she perjured...
But you were still healing from your past, so intense. So distraught, I thought, for your ex's web--not this black widow. You were so quiet and tortured...
And the fact that I had expressed to her the dynamics. When romance as a Black woman is never assured. All of society doesn't simp over us for being simple Wonderbread and call us "wonderful", we actually have to be starrier...
Validating my point as you connived for each other, while I fell off the cliff of your Peter Pan nose. The countless freckles I wanted to worship. The cuts on your arm raised to be kissed and healed. But I respected your barriers...
I had hoped you'd choose me. Who fed your soul, made you laugh–not cry and brood, who crafted music in your name. Did everything in my power to make you feel safe; your magical dream warrioress...
But you proved that knowledge isn't wisdom. And books don't equate to experience. Though we all thought you were deeper, you didn't want the joy of Purple's freedom. Slime attracted slime, so in that mire, you both stay...Asé.
Because the night we met, when she said, "Don't fall in love with me. I have a boyfriend." You battled with the easiest choice of all to make...
A two-faced, backstabbing cunt whose boyfriend wasn't the first, and you won't be the last. The music nerd equivalent of a bootlegged song recorded on a TracFone downloaded on that wired Lime...
And when she pushed you enough that you ran away, it should've been your sign...
To choose this magnificent goddess who loved you so sweetly. Who would've cherished your being mine...
Cuz I'm a golden record so extra I'm going platinum! Come to think of it, you could never handle my grooves and style:
A robust, ethereal album bettering the world with my every rotation, I shine!
Once, I had hoped that you'd come and spin with me. But now I have peace as y'all get dizzy. And the Law restores the waste of my motherfucking precious energy, remarkable friendship, and divine time.
izzy806
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
romaincrisis
