Yesterday, February 18, was Audre Lorde’s birthday and I am often quite inspired by her work. Her work on love, agency, identity, sexuality, and black women will remain seminal for generations to come as long as we teach her, read her, and keep speaking her name. Audre Lorde. Last year, on the very early morning of February 14, 2015, I wrote a piece called: An Open Letter on Saint Valentine’s Day, which was inspired by Lorde’s work. I’m not sure which particular piece I subconsciously drew from, but perhaps one of my favorites, “Poetry is Not a Luxury” served as my evanescent muse in the moment I began to write.

I went to bed early the night before Valentine’s Day 2015 for no particular reason other than being exhausted. 

At about 2:30 am, I awoke, somewhat refreshed. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I began to write. But before I wrote, I started to look around my room and notice that there were these artifacts around me. These love artifacts. These loving artifacts. These loveless artifacts. All these memories from past relationships tucked away on shelves, in drawers, and betwixt the pages of novels. As I sat up in my bed, the memories that were connected to those artifacts and those past relationships resurfaced rather simultaneously. It was in the raucous of my mind that I began to type an ‘Open Letter on Saint Valentine’s Day.’ 

It was rather vulnerable, but I decided to post it to my Facebook social media once I finished the letter. I didn’t have a Tumblr account at the time. After I edited, and reedited the writing, I posted it. Finally, I fell asleep around dawn. I awoke to some pretty cool messages from friends who really liked it, so I was happy I took that leap and posted something that actually resonated with people. I hadn’t posted it out of anger, hate, or any ill-will for those uncharacteristicly mentioned. I just posted it because it was on my heart.

This year I reflected on it again. I made some slight edits to it and decided to post it here post-Valentine’s Day and post-Audre Lorde’s birthday.