“She kissed me”, he said
But that wasn’t true.
“What the fuck?!” she said,
“I don’t know,” I said
“well he’s a free spirit,” she said, “everybody feels safe with him.”
Safe is not the word that comes to mind but
something more loathsome that bends the mind,
something more seething that clouds the mind, and
something more deceiving that blocks the mind.
What I heard her to say was,
“everyone feels confused with him,”
at least I did.
No, he kissed me.
He taunted me/He excited me
He offended me/He exalted me
He withheld from me / He fed me
He ignored me/He said he dreamed of me
He rejected me/He wanted me
He played busy when around me/He secretly gave flowers to me
He was blind to me/He opened his eyes me
He mocked me/He admired me
He silenced me/He wrote a song for me to sing
He towered over me/He felt intimidated by me
He was restless about me/He felt a calmness when he looked at me
He pushed me/He pulled me
He ran from me/He gravitated towards me
He punched me/He embraced me.
He stripped identity from me/He said he was a Black woman like me
He hid from me/He came in search of me
He tried to extinguish me/He fantasized a life with me
He shattered his mirror of me/He created a woman that was me
He tried to eclipse me/He saw his reflection in me
He personified light to me/He displayed his darkness to me.
“I’m gay,” he said to me.
“He now likes women,” she said to me.
Huh?
