By Eyebags and Melanin
I have stayed with myself longer than I have with anyone else. Longer than I have stayed with my good poetry, with my friends. Longer than I have stayed with my many loves and family.
But some things have stayed longer than others. They stuck to me. No one warned me about their staying. They should always tell us when things are going to stay forever despite the nature of their staying. Despite our reluctance to let them stay. Despite the tears their presence leaves behind. Because sometimes faces stay. Sometimes scents stay. Sometimes music stays and it lives in the memories of our muscles. Lovers and their faces, scents and jazz dig homes in our the memories of our bodies.
Anyway, should you ask me of my identity I will respond shyly or with fire, depending on who you are, and tell you that lesbian is rolling off my tongue a bit easier nowadays. That I fucking want to marry a woman is my truth. That, that is because ‘queer’ feels like it has always been here. I have always been here in between life’s highs and lows with a homesickness that I later discovered to be not for a physical place of rest but for a woman.
Somewhere in the corners of my big, tall soul; I have always been a lover. Loving corners and twists of other human beings. Loudly or silently. Today, my love is professed silently. I whisper “I love you’s” to a memory of a beautiful girl. I have sometimes not loved as I should have but I loved nonetheless. The many loves ushered me into a great love with another human being.
This human being was a girl.
I’m a girl. Tall and intelligent for my age. Radical feminist. Low key nerd. High key melaninnaire. Sometimes a shabby lover but I recently penned that I aspire to be a radical lover. Thus, some of my day to day activities include learning how to be a lover and being intention. One day last year, a human being chose me to bask in her magic, her gummy smiles, home baked bread and soup and all the things in between.
Our love spiraled into a beautiful reality of long walks, deep kisses and food. A love that I’m aching for deeply. Wholeheartedly and honestly
Today I wept and cried and prayed. I talked to God and my ancestors about a love I lost 8 months ago. Tears came on the 7th day of my prayer to meet her again and hopefully love her again.
Forever. But life…
As I type this, my mother is listening to the radio. Politicians are lying to us again. They don’t value us and this country but it’s…whatever. My brother is counting coins in the next room and I am typing this thing. A continuation of the prayer I said this morning hoping that in my projecting these words, the wind takes me to my love. In as much as my voice isn’t as rich as Monique Bursomething, I’m singing “take me to love”.
*leave a comment on the post, you can write it under a different name and your email will not be published.*
To submit to HOLAA! email firstname.lastname@example.org