The rarest personality trait in the U.S. making up 1-3% of the population
Although very cool, it gets hard to find those who you can truly relate to or be open with
The quote says, “with great power comes great responsibility,” so off days must bloom even when I feel off
Quickly collecting myself like “where is my super suit?”
I have incredible things to do
My superpower sports a cape of compassion like a brand-new bowtie
But they can’t see me when I graze the clouds
Because their mirror gets ignored for parts, they wish to see for themselves in everyone else
Judgement then gets passed at a surface level, but my mind is only comfortable in the sky
My secret identity is me, myself, and I
But they never see passion behind the why
I’m a pretty good judge of character after about three goodbyes
I can dissect the parts of your heart that need surgery, the parts that make you cry
I can feel the shift in your breathing from across the room
I can tell your mood based on the way you’re walking or talking
I can stop the bleeding with my words of wisdom
Words that have traveled around the world and seen multiple lives
Lives that have ended early, lives that couldn’t find purpose, lives that found love and happiness, lives that weren’t treated fairly, lives that only saw hell or some lucky few only heaven knew
All these residences a hundred lifetimes could never see
My intuition breathes on the daily
It’s exhausting but I’ll never get tired of helping others
I’m an empath so my path encompasses the needs of others, I’m still learning to acknowledge my own
I’m observant on a microscopic level so it feels as if I can predict the future when I just notice the behavior patterns most glance over
The keys are in the details, but no one reads between the lines, people only want the cliff notes
Well, pull out your pen, I’m going to bring success to you
1. Love others more than yourself and true love will be attracted to you, you won’t have to keep searching for it only to find pain
2. Gratitude is the only peace that last longer than self-care or a vacation, stop stressing over the things you can’t control
3. Fear and Comparison are cousins that shouldn’t be in your family tree, they are poisoning your roots; so, have a conversation with the two and watch how relatable the confidence you thought you never knew begins to bloom
p.s. my superpower is learning to be a better version of me…

A lot of guys get lost in your eyes
But I found myself in those depths that galaxies rest in
Your eyes hug stars and sprinkle glitter for their shimmer when the sun wants to shine
I didn’t know it then but when momma would sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star it was a love song
Because I’m one of the dots to your constellation and the others are the children
Our love is so good it should be a sin
God forgive me, I know I’m not supposed to look directly at you
But your daughter has your eyes, and I can’t stop staring
She helps me stay centered with you when I get full of myself
Seeing my reflection in her eyes is one of my favorite things because it’s a moment of Trinity
God eyes saying straighten up son
Your eyes whisper I love you
My eyes catch us with His hands and say I’ll hold your heart
Followed by, I love you too
Our eyes share an embrace that never let’s go in silence
But anyone who sees the way I look at you hears the softness of a love song
They covet the way my eyes hold you like I hold the hand of our child
Their eyes have never seen a sight that sounded so pure
And anyone who sees the way your eyes reply to me, listens to that unforgettable poem on repeat
Then they get lost trying to find your gaze under my sunset
So, the closest thing to feeling that poem, is to hit repeat on this memory
I can’t help but smile when I see your eyes talk about us
p.s. your eyes make the best ASMR…

The Tortured Poets Department has a writer’s division that has to approve every poem before it goes out
And my mind is tired of being held hostage
A loose-leaf definition of writer’s block was once defined by the utter of: I don’t feel like writing, this isn’t good enough, my hand only works for the remote today
Then she interrupts my train of thought to ask: why have you never wrote a poem about me
It’s not that I haven’t
There are 100s getting as comfortable as you can be in the waste basket
The last poem I Kobe shot, Melo made, and Curry posed to the trash can started like this:
An eye lash is trying to make your cheek more than just a Sunday service sanctuary
It wants a home
I know you’d like me to remove it
But who am I to destroy a home
I can’t help but think how beautiful you look with that eye lash
As it rests there like a pair of doves flirting on a branch not far away from me
What are you starring at, she exclaims
Oh, nothing I reply, today I’ll let the eye lash remain
On
Your rosy cheeks, kissed by my dead rose petal lips
Reminding you of the time we went camping and you hated that you smelled the outside
You hated that you smelled like outside
And I kept teasing you but hiking, visualizing, and tenting next to nature is maybe the closest thing to
Falling asleep to your beautiful
Falling asleep to your beautiful
Falling asleep to your gorgeous
Ugh, I can never find the right words to describe a tenth of your gorgeous
And it makes me want to drop dead out of frustration
Because the writers need to feel exactly what I do when they read:
Holding her hand is to get a glimpse of forever before I die
Holding her makes my heart resemble the flight of a butterfly
Holding her hand is to hold my battles in the palm of my hand and make them cry
The writers consist of a delicious various assortment of personality; often referred to as me, myself, and I
Every time I get ready to seal this poem to you the writer’s block me from letting you receive it
p.s. I haven’t learned to love myself enough to love you…

Black is the new poetry my dear
Authored by our ancestors so I could have a voice that is heard beyond the volume of fear
The ink has always been dark so see with your ears
Black is the new love, now let your heart hear
The strength born from blood, sweat, and tears
That grew into a sunrise of a smile, my dear
My darling I keep your Melanin near
And your beauty adds depth to my mirror
The reflection tells me weapons are forming but they will stay in the rear
Because,
My black is the sunset to my depressed anxiety to steer
A blooming future in the right direction never to veer
Toward negativity, my dear
My black is the armor that never cracked, from the roots of scars and ignored facts
My black has always got my back so even if my eyes close you will still see this color, add a period to that!
My black is a promise painted like a rainbow you’ll never grey wash my faith, peace never cracks
p.s. my black has wings that sang…

Have I really been working on myself or did I just change from my work clothes to something more comfortable
Is this depression or is it just the pigment of my skin
Can I defeat you, detach from you or are you so fingerprinted to my thoughts that I’m simply running away from me
Sometimes I wish I could just escape me, myself wears a mask, and I am tired of getting dressed up just to still feel down
I’m black said my mind, I live in the shadows of sadness watching the sunlight from a distance
If only the heat from the suns smile would kiss me, maybe it would melt away my sadness
I’m black said my words, followed by you’re different, they won’t accept you, you don’t fit in
I’m black says the mirror looking at a reflection of depression
I get so lost in my waning emotions my waxing moon can barely breathe
It’s so cold that even the rays of light feel sad
I’m black, I’m depressed, I’m black, I’m oppressed, I’m black I’m obsessed with the idea of my feelings living on equal ground
I’m black, I’m depressed the two interchange while beginning to sound the same so much so I took depressions last name
When I look at me I see one broken piece
I can’t find the rest of the lyrics to my song, maybe it’s because the writer will never finish it
Maybe it’s because I didn’t cry enough to water my heart
I’m black, I’m dirt, but my soil is killing the last remaining rose
I am a rose with bloody red regrets for petals, I put my failures on a pedestal
So, every time I tried to look up it got me nowhere
I’m lost and I keep letting the grey line give me directions, because there’s a thin line between joy and happiness, and in the middle is pity where you can find me
I’m black so they think I stole these 5 minutes of happiness, and so what if I did everyone deserves 15 minutes of fame and mine is coming soon
But right now, I just want to smile and actually feel the laughter hold me instead of the facade that hugs me like a long embrace
This morning I stopped running and looked depression in the face
My mind is not yours it is the Lord’s
p.s. let the battle begin

Step side to side
Sway to our song
Your heart is the lyrics
My soul the instrumental
Hold my hand the way Jesus held the nails
Step side to side
Nerves waltz to love
No music is needed
When sacrifice becomes a verb
I’ll hold you like the space between us is trying to escape
Step side to side
A crowded ball room that only sees us
Watching movies with the sound off
Empty hands have the fullest hearts
And the cup of my rhythmic soul runneth over
p.s. don’t forget to kiss me under the waterfall chandeliers…

I think I’m in happy…
Introvert at heart I was exhausted but enjoying myself like a good day at the gym
I had been participating in some verbal jogging when the jargon interrupted the depth of my thoughts
I wanted to go deeper, but the question brought me back to the surface
You know, that over used, over played, over copied, get out of jail free question
So, how did you feel, question mark
A mental sigh fogs my mind, as I wait for the dust to settle, I try to paint what can’t be replicated in any art
My response a cliche of my own just to joust back
In case we’re keeping score
I’m deadly competitive to a fault, laughing to myself touché
Oh, my reply, I almost forgot
The cliche runs from my mouth: the words to describe it are lost but if found it would be something like watching the American Day Dream on the big screen except you’re the main character
When your mood matches the brightness within the sunrise of your eyes and you’re by no means even a little bit of an early bird
You hear the sound of vinyl recorded melodies on repeat as you brush your teeth
The dust slowly undresses as I then get dressed
Looking for the perfect outfit is comparable to searching for these words
And don’t even get me started on shoes
The right pair will have everyone on there heels and can capture the eyes to the soul
That day my soul sang solo after the shower rained down cleansing compliments
Chanting for an encore
The volume of the claps is turned down
The dust has finally kissed the ground
And for the reveal my reflection sees a familiar memory
As my mouth curves like a rose into a shape it hasn’t felt in awhile
I’ve been chasing this flowery feeling like the butterfly tasting the flight of bliss
I grab as fast as I can, gripping the steering wheel headed to the destination
Shouting I’m never letting go
As my opposite palm holds her hand
I want to stop to picture frame this memory
I have to stop and picture frame this memory
We stop at the red light and she asks: can I borrow a forehead kiss
I respond: as long as you come back again
p.s. this is happiness, it was something like that…

There was a war within the conversation
Eight casualties reported that leaves only one left
The gun holder hears a voice cry: what do you want from me?
The gun confidently cocks a whisper: I want everything you didn’t give to me back
You see in my head you were supposed to care
Package your love as the gift I receive every second of the day
But you were so nonchalant like the fashionable fabric that hangs off the shoulder purposely and doesn’t care about any penny pinching opinions
Personality is fashion and doesn’t have to be understood
I didn’t expect you to comprehend the inner workings, I just wanted you to try
But you would rather show more interest in other things… I’m one of the reasons you’re still alive
Funny now I got your life in my hand
And I’m taking it, out like the trash today that has been sitting for too long
Anger starts to cry as the gun holder exclaims say goodbye, say goodbye, say goodbye
Can’t do it can you
Don’t make me pull this trigger
You ain’t never been about no action it’s always talk
Neither have you, you were supposed lead me out of Egypt, but you just had me going in circles of your desert mind
You were supposed to provide, but all you did was cover your tracks with paid excuses
I know I’m not perfect and I promise I did try… I’m just still hurt, and the kaleidoscope pain made me dizzy
It’s hard to move forward when you can’t catch balance as it falls, not to mention verbal bullets trying to permanently end the conversation
What do you want from me?
I want a ring, don’t casually date me be committed
I give you a release, I am your peace, but you only tool this pleasure for your advantage, making copper from gold
I’m a grown woman not one of your little friends
I want you to understand my history and stop browsing
I want you to protect me and walk on the busy side of the street
I want to feel safe in your arms, keep all the danger locked away
I’m a queen and want to be your friend to represent our royalty
I want to be your inhale and you my exhale
I’m jealous so I want to be your heart and rib
I want you to love me the way Christ married the cross, and left little posted notes on the mirror in the form of a book for His children’[
You wanted so much from me but never invested in me, us, our relationship has been life and death, but you keep it in the same breath… As small talk
Then expect me to take our conversations seriously
Well, if that’s what it’s going to be I’ll keep your letters piled up on the corner of the desk like the mail I need to throw away
Cold steel makes me spit sweat and choke on air
Kill shot, the gun is talking, the conversation has a period in the shape of a bullet
The white light gets louder as I grow older
Now what was all that talk you was saying?
Breathing heavy, is this it, is it too late?
Breathing heavy, She has blocked me
She is Poetry and my blood is the ink
I finally understand but is it too late
Breathing heavy
Please poetry take this writers block away from me
p.s. she just wants respect…

She said get dressed we’re going out
Immediately my introverted thoughts tied me down to chair where I was watching a movie
She could see my hesitation breathing hard so she quickly interjected
Before you say no I took care of all the essentials, so you don’t have to worry about anything
It’s all planned out, and I know you don’t like to always get fancy so this is more of a business casual scene
She then casually walks away saying I need to go get ready
We’re leaving in 40
I leave my comfortable chair and make my way to the closet
Trying my best to closet my anxiety
Maybe my off whites will help me walk away from the dark thoughts
Today feels like a bow tie day
I usually put my cologne on last but in the rush of the moment things got mixed up
Tree sprays and she could sense the scent in the atmosphere change
Lust became a dangerous game
She ran my direction and said close your eyes before she entered the room
I don’t want you to see my outfit
She ran up behind me and her lips hugged my cheek
Then she walked in front of me, her hands covered my eyes
She asked what is that you’re wearing
As I started to speak her lips gripped mine before I could get a word out
She said is smells sweet
I replied: like candy
She answered: yes
She then proceeded to steal two more candy coated cologne kisses from me
Now finish getting ready she whispered as she left the room
p.s. I’m so in love…

Roses are blue and violets are red
When I think of you everything is backwards in my head
Like what I usually would never do I’m now thinking about times two
Every reservation turns into an invitation, so I made plans including dinner for two
Her favorite flower is a rose, and what would a rose be by any other name
If I pick a rose does it take my last name
Roses are pink and Lilys are Lilac
Lavender conversations tastes different when you know she has your back
A rose tattooed on my back is dead until your finger tips hug my thorns
A relationship embraces the pain of every fallen petal
A rose is just a star but with you holding it I can see the galaxy
Dreams aren’t that far away with you in the passenger seat
She drives me crazy and I don’t mind
What’s happiness without adversity
Is a rose still as beautiful without the barb wire
Roses are white and sunflowers are teal
In a crowded room, far away, but I can still feel
You
U without the y. o. because something is different
U and I could be different, and the world needs a change
p.s. I just want to buy you flowers…

It’s the breath I need but can’t reach
Arms extended as far as they can reach
But the superhero is late this time and can’t save me
Plan ahead they say so you can make time to smell the flower things
I’ve never been much of a gardener
However, today I’m planting mustard seeds
So, my confidence can age as grand as the canyon
I can finally picture heaven in the palm of my hands with this Canon
Camera, bombing any part of hell left in my yesterday that tries to burn my film
Hope used to be a dream then I made my dreams come true
Hope used to slip through my fingers but now I wear it as a cape
Flying over depression, fear, and regret
Debts I no longer wish to add to
Stop subtracting from you, thinking to myself
Hope is priceless, you don’t have to play tag with money
That’s why the tag looks out of place in a garden
The highest value holders are free
Plant faith and wake up in a field of dreams
Plant a rose and fall in love
Plant patience and endurance will run past any future
Harmony outlasts pains earthquake
Honor overcomes poisoned endings
And it gives me hope that tomorrow isn’t so bad after all
I don’t always feel super, but I will be my own hero
p.s. don’t forget your cape…