Songbirds & Pre-cum

I remember when days felt so blue,

Like sentiments from my ancestors stopped floating across the rivers that I swam in every night

And–

The ravens forgot to sing to me.

I remember sitting in the shadows, looking around fences, and making up imaginary friends to play in the dark with.

I wish everyone could see what I see now—

A Black-teen embarks on a journey to find self love through mis-interpretations of love and being afraid of pre-cum

That would be the description of my movie if I never tasted the honey that drips from beaks of Songbirds in the beginning of January.

I can’t help but love the way everything tastes now,

And–

The way my lips flutter like wings

And–

The way my tongue squirms like an earthworm when I taste something sweet

And–

My eyes deserve to see it

Like my ears deserve whispers of “I love you’s” at night.

Now,

I’m always feenin’ for a taste of 2 P.M. sunlight so when I get it,

I lie on the beach in my white-lace top surrounded by people touched with love, who

Often synchronize with the tendencies of spiritual beings.

I smile quietly and make a wish for the sun to never set.

I’m smoking weed with angels in the light of day, laughing at how trivial the perception of life can be.

 

-a sweet rendition from my memory

 

 

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