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How peaceful of a thought that one day,

My ears will no longer bleed from the sound of demolition in my own home,

The wrecking ball of your insecurities turning these four walls into ruins,

Causing me to lose sight of myself in this cloud of smoke and debris. 

How peaceful of a thought that one day,

My vulnerability will no longer be an instrument for you to use to sand down your own corners,

In an attempt to take away your edge. 

You will no longer feel the need to raise your voice to twice your height,

To occupy the space in the room that your self-consciousness didn’t already.

I will no longer allow you to enjoy the symphony of my elbows and knees,

Rattle together in restlessness.

Or the singing of my teeth grinding down at every one of your empty promises. 

How peaceful of a thought that one day,

I will no longer feel the need to feed you my flesh.

I will no longer allow you to seek sanctuary in the hallows of my bones,

And make me another skeleton in your closet.

How peaceful of a thought that one day,

We will no longer have to share this cataclysmic love.

The kind of love that has groomed us into walking atom bombs,

Destroying everything in our paths,

And ultimately each other. 

How peaceful of a thought that one day,

I will no longer have to squeeze myself into this skin,

That never really fit me in the first place,

Because I now realize that I am much, much, bigger than this. 

And how peaceful of a thought,

I am a phenomenal lady,

torn between self-destruction and poetry.

What bitter-sweet to confuse the two 

---

I am now tearing down the hallow walls,

of a home built on concrete and conflict,

and pouring the ashes of a pain that can no longer consume me,

As you can may imagine,

it can get quite lonely in my home.

So, at night, when it’s most quiet and very still,

I like to imagine myself to be anywhere in the universe, but my bed.

Some nights, I like to leave my body on Earth

So, I can float around the cosmos for what seems like forever,

Searching for water on Mars and dancing on Saturn’s rings.

Have you ever had pillow talk with a Range Rover?

Or shared secrets with the Zodiacs?

There are stories in the stars,

if you care to listen closely.

I can almost smell the salt water above the Firmament---

Heaven’s choir sings for me to come take a swim.

If only I had enough time.

However, I always find myself right back in my corner of the Earth,

Have you seen that man with that curly black hair,

And that skin like golden silk,

Soaked in a honey pot,

Looking like the sun kissed his cheek Good Morning?

The same man whose words are both the river and the dam.

Whose shoulders can bear the weight of the sun and the moon.

Yes, that man whose eyes scream, “Let my people go!”

Even when his voice can’t.

His eyes --- brown like soil,

Mine --- green like the earth,

Maybe, we can grow a garden together?

Call me Eve, because his lips are the sweetest thing,

Next to the Forbidden Fruit that I’ll ever taste.

That man makes my heart roll it’s R’s,

Even when his tongue cannot,

Because last time I checked, Spanish wasn’t his first language.

That man can part seas, break down walls, and move mountains

All before the moon can tuck you in, goodnight.

That man can grow sunflower seeds out of his back pocket,

And a nation will live to eat another day.

His mind is full of galaxies and black holes,

Where there are oceans in space and Pluto is still a planet. 

I say, have you seen that man?

That man that can lower the sky to half its height

And claim his spot amongst the stars.

That man is magic.

That man will make you a believer,

If not anything else.