The Story of "You" (Louis Toliver Jr.

The Story of "You" (Louis Toliver Jr. - Swartz, LA)

“What about us?” I said as I was leaving

I’ve spent all this time right by your side

And this is how you repay me? This?

Yes, I’m pissed. Yes, I’m fucking pissed.

I’m not going to keep saying I’m sorry

Not to a piece of shit like you, no way!

You. You. “You” is all I hear out of you

And the thought that I gave so much time…

The thought that I built a life around you…

What about us? Huh? What about us?

Lying, cheating, stealing, hating, fighting,

Hugging, kissing, sighing, loving, fucking…

Ahhh! I hate you! I hate you! I love you!

Was I always in this alone? When did you leave ?

Where did your heart go? Mine was here.

I’m so embarrassed. I’m so confused. I am…

Who I am? Who am I… without you? I’m lost

My life gone down the drain. A black hole.

A black hole created by an asshole. That’s you.

Yep. The asshole. I don’t know what to say now.

I could stand here in silence. Should I? Hell no.

Well, I’ll just stand here and think. Think…

About the multiple ways to say “goodbye, jerk”

Or about the multiple ways I can leave you

My stomach turns at the sight of a dead end

And that’s what you are…a dead end. You!

Clearly, you can tell I’m finding a new path

I’m no longer in the cast of the “Story of 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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