What I Want (Jason Smith-Lafayette, LA)

I do enjoy our time together. I do so want to be the one that knows what your favorite breakfast is. I want to be the one that knows what your special morning thing is. I want to be the one that knows what you like in your coffee. I want to be the one that knows how long you like to shower, how hot, or how cold you like your water. I want to be the one that knows what your favorite thing to sleep in is nothing at all or satin boxers. I want to be the one that knows what you’re moods are when you are happy, sad, angry, hurt, HORNY, sick or scared. I want to be the one that knows what your breath smells like after going out for the evening & waking in each others arms. After a night of erotic and passionate love making followed by hot & sweaty sex. I want to be the one that knows what your cock taste like after you fuck me. I want to be the one that knows what your wants & desires are. I want to be the one that knows what you have hidden deep in your soul. I want to be the one that knows you. I want to be the one that knows how it feels to have you next to them when you sleep. I want to be the one that knows what it is like to have makeup sex after an argument. I want to be the one that knows what it is like to just sit around the house with you and snuggle. These are just some of the wants that I would have answer’s to if I was with you.

Comments

Come Hither (Annette Redmond Walters - Lafayette, LA)

I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

Lunatic (Lily Lechler - New Orleans, LA)

“Lunacy” comes from the moon, Who cycles through brilliance and darkness Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed Opposites not so well harnessed Who cycles through brilliance and darkness? The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Opposites. Not so well harnessed As she thought, her brain gives reason the slip The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Her body, depressed, her thoughts manic. As she thought, her brain gave reason the slip And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic. Her body depressed her thoughts. Manic Lunacy comes from the moon And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed

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