By: Quasia Elle
I’ve taken a seat with a transfer of habit. Where your soul-igniting kiss would land, cheers to numb all senses. Melanin deep, layered in complexity, showing the world your victories as I cradled the fears… now, a red river floweth, somber thoughts forcefully rising with the tide. Roll on. Freedom was the warmth in your embrace. We would lie next to one another, and then rise within ourselves. The highest high seems to knock me low; so fill my glass please, I’m having Merlot.
I once dreamt of wildcats in gardens I could smell, and tell, the difference between the passion in a rose and the hope of a sunflower. Eyes closed, but a third peeked releasing a flow of uncontrollable emotions, followed by a calm that silenced my thoughts into complete unconsciousness. I was physically awakened by the sunrise between your lips and the reassurance spoken by your presence. You never opted against a chance to honor my being; never a loss for words when narrating your love; gifted in tracing my divine femininity with roots crafted by our glory and just when I thought I’d had enough, when more than just feelings start to rush… I peeled miserably from your company. Focus was hard to come by that workday.
We trusted to be taken wherever the other would lead.
… And then you left.
I know you’re battling some things, and I would never stand by perfection, but I didn’t in any moment; believe this was an option, without notice, and especially without her highness’ input. A king’s rare movement.
You’ve created a different entity; a new, now tainted version of the admiration I’ve held with you for close to a decade. You made a decision without my involvement, and without respect for how it would affect my productivity, while I stood to be what enhanced yours. You’ve witnessed exhaustion in central parts of my, me, still show up, unaffected, in your wants and needs. Because that was easy. While I do not doubt the superiority of energy we exchanged, I now doubt your knowledge of the one you evoked. What you do not know is not by my lack of expression, but by your lack of comprehension. I hope for your clarity, my love.
I am not proud of this reality, this anxiety, this new, beside-ness of me. We are alike in that way-transferring habits as our minds can manage the impact and yet here I am… after fighting to gain vision through waterfalls of abandonment and empty bottles of resentment, here I am… praying that my King makes it through the battle because I, will be okay. And I pray that you can catch me, listening.