Skip to main content

I’m Letting Her Go (Louis Toliver Jr-Swartz, LA)


Even though it is hard
At the end of the day
It is time to play this card
I am certain it is okay

She was never good for me
She led me into dark places
I know that I could barely see
Searching for human graces

I ran to her for her love
She made me think of comfort
Never touched me with a glove
Now I rip her off like a wart

It feels good to know her way
It feels good I know more
She can no longer make me stay
I am no longer her whore

…I’m letting her go. Finallly.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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.
Post a Comment
Read more

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 ...
1 comment
Read more

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
Post a Comment
Read more