Purpose

Will I be transformed

A piece of granite

Made into art

People gawk and I remain beautiful

A historical masterpiece

Poised for humanity to admire

 

Will I be remembered?

A book written

That grows with the universe

And you flip through my pages

And find meaning in every letter

A story that can be recited to an audience

Waiting to be told what to think.

 

Will I be loved

Shrines dedicated to my honor

A religion that rises

Worships my steps

A journey copied by thousands

In hopes of being this close to me.

 

Will I be forgotten

This old man he

Faked his death

To bury his family with loneliness

As he watched for tears

Salted with pain and sorrow.

A terrible thing to digest.

A Nightmare

You have your grandmas face

it’s beautiful

And haunting

Like your shadow

Betraying you in the dark

Like a tree

Something beautiful

Transformed into an illusion

A monster.

When the moon shares its light

Sometimes when you laugh

Her chin appears on your face

And it scares me

Cause her blood is in you

Deep red with a veiled purpose

My sweet girl

With your grandmas blood

That craves for a monster.

A nightmare.

Coffee Strong.

My legs are strong enough to carry me and your burdens

I carry mine in this purse.

It bounces off my hourglass

As the light countdowns.

I begin before it allows me.

 

My thighs exchange greetings

As I walk to the coffee shop

Necks wind as I sway to the door

 

Dark skin glistening at the counter

A smile.

Black coffee please.

 

“Is someone sitting here?”

My stuff is there. All around this place.

You hold your hands up and acquiesce.

Walking backward for your protection.

 

When I leave I can see noses in the air

Inhaling the fragrance

Gifted to me by my mother

I bring it with me to the street

 

“Fuck you too then bitch.”

I laugh at how that used to make my shoulders rise.

A corner boy with gutter words

Bitch dripping from his fangs.

 

Rejection is bitter

To a pack of wolves.

 

My coffee is stronger than you, boy.