stained yellow walls
remind me of him.
he crashes through
my walls whenever
he smiles. when he
hearts me the most,
i jumble my words.
actions speak louder
and common sense
fades from my fingertips
like a spector. intelligence
is a fruit that dribbles
juice from its stem.
a green liquid
that stains
and splashes on the yellow
walls, he makes me feel like
a tropical tree. the ocean
crashes miles away
but he makes me feel
like i can be anything.
he sits under my branches
loyally; we trade secrets
through soil
and dead leaves.
flowers surround him
like a dream; we share
the last of the ice cream
before it melts down on
your cuffed jeans.
your sneakers are cream
colored and your shades
show the shining uncertainty
on my face. listen as i tell
you why you are no longer good
enough for me:
i loved the way
you shared your soul with me;
it touched me
in my places i have no
names for. latin or romantic,
i have not been speechless for awhile.
it hurt, the knowing
that you were not ready
for a scholar like me.
i take the earth
and bring it to my lips
like the last meal. i hunger
for more of her secrets
yet you sit back
on the ground
and roll around in the sand.
such childish things
will get you hurt…
Mecca-Amirah Jackson 