Into Existence, Her Essence Was Spoken

Reflecting on my rationality.
The last time I had rocked an Afro.
I was an infant.
Now, Walking the world with a straight back.
I count the years learning and the years earning the title of man.
Without pops to hold my hand.
Ma Dukes bent her back in different variations.
To keep food  on the plates, that were purchased at resource stores.
My clothes bought second handily.
It might as well been passed down,
the Kat's at school use to frown.
Whispering in the hallways, hearing the taunts and them clown.
Followed by the obnoxious laughter.
So I chose to begin documenting my life through chapters.
Flourishing books of floetry, moved me gracefully.
Defining my soul, which I hold, sleeping  in the darkness of my bedroom.
Writing my dreams, my nightmares and inner confusion.
It became my movement, a motivation to do more with my time.
Pulling me out if the sight of that mack truck, that blind spot.
But it was the love if the art.
The praising of her form that she spoke to me.
In tongues of positivity, she asked me to marry her.
Never became a slave to her.
I cherished our precious moments.

We became so deep that I lost breaths, off the thought of her.
Every time my pen would spit, there she would sit.
I must admit I loved it.
She was so into what I had to say.
It was like sweet marmalade.
Brown sugar that was so rich,
She made me forget about the stress of nine to fiving.
She supported my habit of vocalizing, which was God sent.
It was like hearing hip-hop for the first time and it felt right.
My creative process conversing with her melodies.
We birthed break beats... I used to lover her.
Well, I actually I still do.
I place faces of new, to compare with the abstract beauty.
But it doesn't match, I at times put this pen to paper.
making love to her in the back of my mind.
Visiting our sons with Afros and our daughters with braids.
I admit I regret letting her go....
I only hope it is something that she knows.

Is it that feeling I felt as an infant with my wild Afro.
Her bright smile that was frozen in time.
Capturing part of my soul.
We still run like cool breezes.
When I reminisce over you.
Spoken whispers in french, breathlessly articulated upon the lobes of my ears.
I daydream on the years that could have been.
But then again, a possibility could still be.
Poetically speaking