I came across my high school sweet heart at my favorite coffee shop in the Lower East Side. My eyes slowly traced his silhouette…Jeffrey grew some muscles on him…okay sir! He ordered a macchiato with vanilla sugar and a brownie. You know, I never took him to be a coffee man, but more so a chamomile tea type of brotha. He turned around to get some napkins and then it happened.. we locked eyes and the warmest smile graced his face. Of course this feeling of bliss overwhelmed me and the cup of tea I was sipping on soaked my emerald silk shirt. Foolishly, he found this to be nothing less than comical, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him. Moments like this made me appreciate what warmth felt like. But, I grew tired of constant cycles of men. It was the same actions but with different faces. Tommy was the same as Darrel. Darrel was the same as Lakeith. And Lakeith was the same as every other brother before him. It would be rather easy to say, or to blame even, the series of brothers that crossed my path, but instead accountability is more up my alley. It was me. I was the issue. Love, or rather the fallacies of love, has silenced me. The voice of my love has been silenced due to the misfortunes of my previous lovers not knowing how to appreciate the delicate legato sound that left my lips. Now they are left with staccato; everything is chopped and screwed and no one is buying this bullshit….not even me. You see the beauty of action lies in having the full ability to cause a paradigm shift in myself or do the complete opposite and continue to limit myself. hmmm… Later that day, I found myself mindlessly strolling through the snow on Lexington and a ping goes off on my phone. It was a message from Jeff : “I was hoping that you still have the same number. Its Jeff, I was hoping to take you out sometimes to catch up and to be around you. But…it would suck if this isn’t your number lol” I’m really confused as to how this fool found my number but, I’m appreciative. The snow couldn’t stop me from responding fast enough. I told him that I’d meet him in Harlem at 8. Rule #1: Sometimes the curiosity of life comes knocking at your door; you can either speculate of what can be or take the lead....
1 Comment
Erica Weathersby
2/13/2019 10:29:20 pm
Love this .. Ive learned so much from you & wish that one day you would publish a book on Black love & your experiences.
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A'maara L.A Guide to Blk Love Archives
May 2020
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