can you truly love without the pain? is there a need for the tears and the pain? the heartache? can love surpass those things or does one need to pass through? how do you honestly know it’s love and it wasn’t a great lust? 

too many questions…

ran into my muse today.

after yoga. i waved.

darkskin friend gave me the brother nod.

walked back…walked up.

small talk with my muse.

not so amusing.

close enough for him to smell my 

Gucci

Guilty.

until proven innocent

the black bottle.

spring scent.

it felt refreshing.

peaceful

my mind calm

my heart healed.

i laughed.

a throaty one.

remembering my muse.

appreciate the time.

i’ll always remember…

lighskin friend

muse.

2AM.

cudi.

8 pages to write 

and carrots for nourishment.

sunday funday has me up.

yeah…

i thought he was the one y’all

a handsome man, charming

brown skin even browner eyes.

I thought he was the one

moon to my motherfucking son

ying yang in this thang.

I thought he was the one y’all

matching tattoos and we’re both from the boot.

I’m a city gal and he a country boy

I thought he was the one

until the honeymoon phase ended

my requests were met with “you’re trippin, b or foo”

something rude.

I thought he was the one

until his moon eclipsed my son

and my brightness was done.

I thought he was the one, y’all

until Adele sang along to my tears

and Amy’s words bled my ears.

Oooh child i thought he was it

constant communication

talks about kids; he was the shit.

then i got bit

fucking year of the snake

this boy made me hate

everything when we were done

cause I thought he was the one!

Then God heard my cries

said, “Child, wipe those eyes

why must you weep? Why do you cry?”

“I thought he was the one, G

the way he had my heart double beat

ing, feel-ing, long-ing”

I THOUGHT HE WAS THE ONE.

“Child, that’s why a MAN chooses his wife,

if you were given that option you would’ve been in double strife,

thinking he was the one & ended up disappointed in life;

keep going and take care of yourself

you’re prize is being built

prepare yourself and get ready

cause I know the one”

-jpvb

damn he was the reason i was getting wasted.

weekend after weekend,

drowning out that emotional noise

with the bass from Top 40 songs

and shots of redbull and whiskey

a dash of watermelon schnapps

taking shots for him

to suppress myself.

damn,

the morning after

no memory of last night’s affairs

warm body against me.

screenshots in memory.

bits and pieces.

shooting for him,

reason i was wasted; faded. 

drunk dials and scuffed heels

taking shots for him.

it all felt good

until it came back up

splattered on the cement in Midtown.

Top 40 muted and the lights up

no more shots for him.

no more shots for me.

-jpvb.

he used to be my muse.

the intricacies displayed through the glass of his eyes

sculpted and crafted beautifully

the warm tones of brown and red

painted across his surface

sigh, the vision.

he used to be my muse.

now he’s the centerpoint

of the bulleyes

shot by my .22

shattered and ripped

he used to be my muse.

-jpvb