Showing posts with label break-ups. Show all posts
Showing posts with label break-ups. Show all posts

Sunday, October 31, 2010

I Keep Holding On...

When you think you shut down something in order to avoid a terrible mistake, you end up making more mistakes to add to the one that you thought you've avoided. That was destroying something that was already strained in the most fantastic of ways. So i can do what, exactly...avoid being dishonest? I made myself look stupid in my decisions in love, and now I have nothing here in this heart. Working has replaced my emotions. I can't muster enough to recapture what was, nor even spark what little I have left. That explains why my ass is up on All Hallows' Eve typing this shit to you all. But the title has its purpose. I must regain ground. My capoeira has been stronger and trickier than the old mess I've practiced. I have gained three jobs, one being an entrepreneurship. I have eaten and felt healthier. To conclude these revelations for now, I've finally learned how to say "no", without actually saying it! Thank egun! i attribute all of my experiences of this up and down "5" year to my ancestors and orisa, and how they've guided me through my tumult ans triumphs. Albeit there's a lingering love that I still carry for this person, I still recognize that movement happens when you initiate the move. I don't regret the situation. In fact, as much as it hurts to see her smile without me, it actually makes me happy to see her do so, knowing all of the things she's experienced in the past three years. I will continue to ask for more blessing for her family and their livelihood.

As for me...well, I plan on taking this new business further. By January, I hope to make it officially a running non-profit for this community. I made a silly assumption about how I felt and did not listen to the inner God about this person that made a presence after my ex. Thank goodness it was short lived and not a situation of presumable love. I needed true time after my ex, and I didn't give it enough, due to my weakness in accepting the relationship's downfall. therefore, my egun let me know quickly what I needed to do to return back to my higher self. Truth be told, I do miss my ex, but I don't miss the struggling. I wish I didn't have to split with her, but I think we both did so in order to be better people. Maybe there will be a recon or our souls or togetherness. Until then, we are reminded to treasure the good times that or emotions bring us. Funny how love works. I am reminded by Caretta Bell's song verse: "Love Lets You Be Free."

You are sure right, Ms. Bell.

Ifeanyi Okoro
10/31/2010

Saturday, April 17, 2010

"Confessions of an Aquarian" - Part I

I couldn't pronounce "Fuddruckers" without switching the f and the first r around .



I had innumerable nicknames that I've given myself.



I lied to protect someone telling the truth, facing a devastating penalty.

Guess what happened next?



I loved Prairie View A&M University, before I found out it was part of the Texas A&M University System...in which, became my favorite college.

I attended the University of Houston.



I used to eat paper.



I sniffed Elmer's school glue just to see what the result was.

I'm fine.



Oral sex is bothersome at times.

It doesn't mean I don't like it.



My dreams involve every type of human being and their lifestyles...

and whatever I dream is just a version



I flirt with danger, trouble, and bankruptcy, but...

women are purely innocent and not on purpose.



Suicide was a choice after my mother passed...

and when I break up with women...

and when I breathe.



Tears For Fears and Depeche Mode are some of my favorite bands.



My longest love for someone was also my crush.

Turns out the one thing we had in common was barely seeing each other.

We never dated.



I am a night owl, more than an early bird...but I'm still both.



I love kissing more than sex.

Sometimes it's a tie...a tongue tie.



I prayed for older women to take notice of me when I was in my teens.

Since then, I have only dated two younger than me, and the rest were at least three or more years older.



I'm a Toys 'R' Us kid that worked at his favorite dream job...

and...

was accused of video game theft.



I have had a gun pointed at me since 1998 at least 3 times. Some would say, unless I'm in a gang, or a police officer, maybe even in the service...

That's too much.



I've never been shot at. I have been threatened....

by my father...

I still wonder if it really was a glock or a BB gun.



My mother and father didn't tell me much about sex.

I saw it everywhere. Late night...

On accident

When you're bored and you walk in to your parent's/aunt's room unannounced...

In Disney films...



In all seriousness, I thought girls had penises when I was young.



I purposely tried to talk deep, ruining my singing voice, so I could talk like the "cool boys" in church. Turns out, puberty punished me.



I have done sexual acts that only trail rape as a unpopular decision to go through.



I have written final notes and poems to people that have totally bamboozled me, emotionally, in relationships...

One person gave it back with the flowers I sent...

In the things of mine she shoved out.



Virgos are HIGHLY magnetized to me. If you're a Virgo, well...

It may have something to do with my Astrology chart having Virgo in it, heavily.

Every class that I've entered at least had 8 Virgo children enrolled.

I have a love/hate relationship with Virgos.

My cousin (rest in peace), my uncle, the school-children, poets, Posdnous...



Even after a woman has exclaimed sex with me was excellent or great...

I don't believe them much. I'm not confident unless they are tapped out. Pun may or may not be intended.



I've used and loved Totally Tulip.



I like more female high-spirited songs than so called R&B songs.



My dad was a great DJ.



I was the last to know about my father's affairs with other women until I came back home from college.



I don't give a fuck about the English language.
That's why I hope to learn Igbo and other African languages.



I don't trust elder bald men.



Was crazy enough to bury my ex-'s underwear in the ground near my old apartment because I wanted her to stay.
Some months after the eviction, I received calls from her to hang out.



Cruelty, as I got into a bitter argument with an ex, and even got to the point where when things got out of hand, asked for the toys I bought for the children back.



I am downright eccentric.



I'm a "breast" man.



I quit my higher paying job to work back in the 'hood.



I adore black women...sometimes I compliment them.



I ate three large boxes of pizza from Pizza Hut.
Even took the tip off of he table and gave it back to my parents, thinking they left it on accident.

I'd originally wanted this to be a poem.


Ifeanyi Okoro II

Saturday, December 19, 2009

"Final In Over Time"

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)


Here's #5 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project

Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, TX


If one time wasn't enough
The heart dropped yet another close one
This time
No time left
Back and forth
Tied up
Close the whole time, now
Trailing
About a yard away
Sweat drips
Hands clench
It's in motion
Last ditch pass
One attempt
And
She
Deflected...
Me.

Game
Ends.

Love conquers.



© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

Thursday, December 17, 2009

"Breakdown of Words"

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)

Here is #3 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project.

Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, TX




There's a brainstorm of questions
Pecking at the door like trickling drops
An insatiable inquiry that involves three words
Rain pours with its facial cloudiness
And then comes the tears
And blaming
And hurt
And regressions
And forgiveness
And realization
And...
The ands
The ifs
The buts
What if
There was no such thing as affection?
What if we all played hide and go seek the meaning of life
Under trees made with lies
And grass growing on regret
Drink from the streams of lust when we thirst
This sounds about right, yes?
So why are we banking on pain
To invest in death
Stock up experience but
Do this shit all over again?
I am broke.
No expense for forlorn loves
I give no credit to heartache
No IOUs to ex-mates
But somehow
There's always ands
And there's always an if
If there is no but
Would there be a spiritual lift?
I think people use "but" with another "t"
To get in between a crease of insecurity
Or false security
Or just a piece
But
People misuse "and", replacing "n" with the "d"
So they could combat solutions with more animosity
Tacking on terrible histories to price tag memories
Too high to pay for mentally
What if "if" isn't "if"?
But these two are needed for a shift
If you doesn't feel right...get uplifted
If he cheats... he drifted
If you're clicking on all cylinders...this is gifted bliss
Relationships stay in neutral sifting through bullshit
But
Not all vocab is necessary when loving is in action
So
Satisfy your conversations
With no ifs,
ands,
or buts.
And then you'll see clear skies in each other's eyes
If that's what the weather calls for in your souls
But remember...
Keep you speech short
Leave these words here in December.

© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

"A Better Life - (Dreams)"

This is actually a Tweet-turned-poem, originally posted Sunday, July 5, 2009 at 6:02 am.


I will attempt to dream a better life.
I don't think I've ever felt this before.
You know, the effect of love gone awry.
Not of this magnitude.
Or latitude, longitude, or longevity.
Even readings show confusion
As I commenced to cast last night.
Give me strength to fight the weakness of the flesh.
The depths of my inept love still left, for her...
I'm not understanding why she's still in my dreams.
Why I'm trying so hard to move forward
And my heart will not get out of park.
Pulling over in three lanes wanting to lose control at the wheel
Letting go gets harder
Because of my grip on the thoughts of her.
So I grasp no concept of giving up so easily, yet, I'm
Asking ancestors to ease my grip & pain.
I feel they're granting me only one to deal
My dreams are becoming more depressing in a way,
But more informative.
More deforming to my inner child
Birthing angst and worry pushing and contracting
Cutting the cord to sever something I sought that sweet
I'm but a baby in this new found world of hatred of self
Trying to find someone to hold me in this time, I'm cold
In this time I am shivering in uncertainty
In this time her love may be grasped by another God
I'm praying to ignore this.
My hands clasped resemble hers of closed chances
I'm only walking, crawling, clawing, salivating, crying, trying to be
A man
Her man
But this man is not what a dream is supposed to be like
Cause in this life you must dream big to grow
I am stunting my chance to grow cause she's grown on me so much
I'm wrapped with her vines
I am sealed with seven curses of admiration
I am crazy with no form of dignity when dialing
Calling the good sweet ancestors for help
(Not divine anymore I will try to be tomorrow, mama)
When I don't wake up without my dirt
My casket of her thoughts of me
My suit, (mama, she had a suit for me, did you see it?)
My love suits no other for now cause heartache is
Too big of a size for anyone else
But a man can dream, can't he?
And a man can feel can't he?
So I feel this dream dresses funny, so it can't be here, no
Not at this point and time
And spacial tear
And cardiac wear on shoulders so narrow
I want to feel her in my sides as we blend
Shower with her skin to scrub my soul
Suck her tears from her cheeks and blow sandalwood kisses
Back to her heart
I'm not eager to live with continuous torture
I'm overanxious to see where can I die in her memories
To be resurrected from the lips of hers as she speaks of my name
To sleep forever as she marks my tombstone with
Eulogies and epiphanies
Sleep, to temporarily see God in the works
I am in the works or creating a mess of myself, fix me
I love her, but I don't want bad dreams or thoughts about her now.
I will attempt to dream a better life.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Aquarian Questions The Age

Originally posted from Facebook Notes page, Monday, July 27, 2009 at 2:51am.

*I added on a few things today.


Not in all of my 29+ years have I experienced so many variations and declarations of new relationships, marriages, divorces, moving, staying, murders, sudden deaths, births, financial turmoil, and social uprisings. Is the Age of Aquarius staring to show early signs? Is it that nothing surprises us anymore, or that everything will catch us off guard? What makes these snap turns and judgments happen? Why so much quick change? Big names and idols fall harder, as small countries are showing resolve and revolt. What are your opinions? What do you see as the turning point? Or is this just "life" (scapegoat answer)? Is it astronomy and numerology? Is it a system?

*Questions are popping up in my dream and appearing to me in my eyesight. What is it about this year that is spiraling down for this black man in relationships? Why am I still working for peanuts when I am more than the elephant's show? Where will I live next? Is my health in jeopardy? I can only explain the situation hat I've ended up in. Sharing a house, commuting to the job that's only for a short period of time (for meager pay), and being able to get myself together in a slow way. It still feels distant and detached. For now, I will let the ori lead the way. I should have in the beginning. I know now that egun and some helping hands cannot be a deterrent for my situation. The stars don't hold me back, nor does a decision from divination and casting. I am guided by my soul.

How about you? What are you guided by?

Sunday, November 22, 2009

"Against Forfeited Feelings"

I'm gonna try something new here...inspired by two people, actually.

Regina Agu, and a blogtastic woman who's Twitter alias is '@slim_goodie'.

I am going to simply empty what comes to mind, within ten minutes or so, everyday. Oh yeah, I will not always follow the English?APA/MLA writing guidelines...so sue me. I'm looking to do this to jog the memory a bit. This might continue past the new years...who knows? I do wanna thank '@nubianwriter' for tweeting about poetry!


the face shows anguish that I cannot see
cannot hear unless it's in my dreams.
It's synonymous with dreary attitudes and
un-heartfelt kisses to the back of the neck
as if it's just a fuck

painting pictures of despair
pays enough for bus fare
a penny for your thoughts on canvas and
spray-tagged walls
graffiti on the bridge if not for spaghetti string dresses with
cling-on pasts and Teflon cares
they snag it from the air

Why sister gotta get no-good
Why sistas gotta bet on no-better?
Weather is whether you like to make it rain
fists and arguments
the affections of the soul and flesh
separated by church and statements of
Jesus working it out
testimony
after ya mans wore it out
test of faith
after ya moms bore you out of second class citizenship love
on the backburner of freedom expressed

by constant depression and distress

I confess,
even my female orisa got me twisted
Changing my mind after i see my queens give brothers brain
then explain the game to the shame he once called (denied)
his son...sometimes daughter...
sum of all things times double the trouble
equals mass hysteria
History repeats, wash, rinse, repeats, spin
doctors trying to work on your self-image without
really examinin' the in.
So pills now become a sin

you pray on Christian Brothers to bring you back again
Come again?
take time to dust off the seat, and not the seated
conceit is only leaving you defeated
i'll be damned if one hasn't sunk to new lows
and old heights of bullshit just to seek closure
or one more screw turn
shades of life isn't skin, or skins, or sags in skinnies
or bling and swag-brag
she can't date your car, nor brand name tag apparel

Man, brothers should be looking to the stars to earn
like astronomers
reaching for the sky without the blunt smoke stack train
off track, but you blow my high for the same damn thing?
what's your point? love/all
stop the racket trying to ball with no court in sight
net gain to maintain our light, right?
but...

ladies, stop trying to pull men's chain about
him pushin' a band on ya finger
marriage is in the mental.
put a ring around that
not a pole on it, for it
fuck it
nor forget it

this here...this shit right here???
is.
so how about that shot of happiness and laughter?
it's an open bar to be raised.
a toast to intoxicated bliss
cheers to no lingering jeers.
Hold on to hands.
on deck
of cards played...two of hearts


Ifeanyi Okoro II © 2009

Saturday, October 10, 2009

(Im)perfect 10

The first 10 days of October. My sister would be approaching another year towards 30 (after me, of course), I would be missing the Capoeira workshop with the gang in Austin (9th-11th), and these days featured a dream that came to fruition about someone that's been on my mind since my break up with my ex.

These days approached so rapidly. I thought I would be able to accept the usual denial to talk or see the children from her, considering they weren't of my flesh, but of my heart, and we were split up. Then today happened. On a special day for the oldest child...a day after my sister's special day. She is celebrating two days out on he night as her fun as we speak.

So how would this present pan out for me, even though it's not my solar return?

I went to work, not expecting anything out of the ordinary, except to help host for the 15th anniversary of Project Row Houses' existence. Everyone that helped build this program and art-specified system pretty much showed up if they were available. The art was great, the children loved the outside, and best of all, I got paid for my toiling. Then I saw what I thought was something unbelievable and soul-shaking. At least to me. Corey, Cody, his brother, and his friend, Quincy. Walking towards my direction. But I didn't see the ex (Corey and Cody's mother), her new man, and most importantly, my sunshiny happiness in a sweet girl's form, Chloe. When I did see her, I was paralyzed, literally, in my position. My heart raced, and my hands tightened. She saw me, and that was about as far as we could share happiness. A few feet away.

It was so bad, that her eyes were saying "Remember me? Give me a hug, or call my name. at least!). Could she read my mind, saying "I miss you, babygirl! It's okay to give me a hug."

Seeing who I consider as still my Goddaughter, (regardless of circumstance) , Chloe, I was torn beyond repair. Not to give her a giant hug. Not to let her ride atop my shoulders like I used to when we'd go shopping or to the park. Anywhere for that fact. Not to look at her drawings and talk about her dreams that inspired them. Not to see her smile and not feel uncomfortable doing so, due to her mom and her new beau walking around, and not my hands holding her mother anymore.

Seeing Corey and Cody was just as difficult, staring at the boys, growing up, being their silly selves. Hell, I even missed Quincy, Corey's friend. In fact, that's who I saw first. Corey and Quincy. I thought I was hallucinating. I thought my dreams were coming to fuck with my head again. Instead, the dreams that I've been having in rapid succession have become reality. Just different scenery, and a slightly changed scenario.

I sensed that Corey didn't want to tell me about what I already knew, which was his mother getting engaged to her long-awaited-but-profusely-denied-truth-of-who-she-really-wanted-forever husband-to-be. I also sensed that Cody wanted to tell me as a secret in my ear, but Corey, knowing me like a book, prevented him from doing so. Maybe he wanted to tell me something different. maybe that his mother's new man was here. Maybe that she secretly said something to him and it's burning his ears to hold. However, I don't have the spirit to stomach news of anything else, except on how the children were doing.

Which set me well...
Temporarily.

I instantly called my sweetheart in confusion on what to do. i didn't want to see "her" nor "his" face, definitely. However, I was doubled over in pain and anticipation on seeing Chloe. NUMEROUS times she wanted to come talk to me. She even pointed to me several times to her new friends and strangers. Most likely, to let everyone know I was her godfather. I miss it when she called me "dad".

This is painful to type.

I was welling up with tears talking to Corey, hearing about his struggles with Algebra (I'd help him in math, always), his voice cracking and varying, his excitement of meeting me today, on his birthday, because it was some type of psychic feeling he had. He said he felt that it wouldn't be the last time I'd see him. I'm split on that. Honestly, I didn't expect the "family" to show up here. I didn't wish that. I actually just wanted to talk to them and see how they were doing, and I even sent their mother a message through the text and email to wish them well. I got a lot more than what I asked for. I questioned him about if he'd thought he'd never see me again, and he threw that notion away immediately. I told him to be happy, if he already wasn't, for his mother getting engaged. He was focused on football, being a year away from high school, and definitely about the electric guitar and clothes information we were talking about. It was like old times, just rushed. The air was thick with awkwardness and a wanting to talk. Cody was a hard case to deal with after the first time his mother wanted me out...actually, several. He became stubborn and unresponsive, which that is an unhealthy and volatile Cody. His mother once called me back to talk to him, and we patched things up along with calming Cody down. The five of us always had meeting when things got out of hand, or when we wanted to have family time. Cody showed me how to skateboard -- no lie. He let me know that he was failing, (I'm hoping he's kidding, or lying heavily for attention, which isn't cool, but understandable), and constantly showed me a snail with some grass and wheatgrass in his bag. I loved how they always collect bugs and insects. No fear. Unlike their mother and anything small that crawls. I'd always laugh when she'd run away, or asked me to kill it.

This time, I felt like the one who was running. Escaping.

Everywhere I went, rather it was the installations, or the main two-story, I either saw the couple, or the children. Mainly, it was Corey and Quincy. One house I saw Chloe alone from the group, exited to the next one, saw Corey and Quincy in the next one, Cody outside jump roping, and narrowly avoided going into the same house as the ex and her man. Why was II like this again? Have I slipped back into a state of worthlessness? Was I not ready to face the change again? Or was it a prayer answered, but not recognized, or not exactly how I wished it to be? Corey and I shared a bond that young boys and "fathers" had that were unbreakable. He relayed his thoughts (on what obviously something told to him by his mother) to me, mentioning that (after I apologized to him for my imperfections) he understood that it was wanting to go out and be free. I was hurt by the comments that were said, cause that wasn't my deal with the family. I loved to be with them. Late night movies, evening bike rides, four-square, park walks, IHOP dinners or breakfasts, shopping (especially when it was just the boys), reading time, video games (I mean, I am a kid at heart when I'm with them), and how we all stuck around during Hurricane Ike and the madness that surrounded the Election. A funny moment came when my friend, Yvette, came over to talk with me and we conversed about the situation. She tried to coax me over there, and made a slight at if they were looking over here, or were trying to come over, that I should pretend to be her boyfriend. Hahaha! Nice one, although Yvette is a beautiful woman (@YvesStLapaint - Twitter), and her daughter absolutely loooooves some "Mr. Res" - (Ha!) , I felt obligated not to over-dramatize this. I wouldn't know if it did work though. That would include me asking if she and her new man were "ok".

I'm trying to wrap my head around seeing them so close to never. This may be the last time I get to see them. I pray not, but if so, then it was bittersweet. My boss even slipped in a comment, seeing if I was okay, after recognizing they were here. I mean, I pretty much walked out with them, only a few yards away from where the new couple were. I would have loved to hug Sunshine (Chloe), my Chlo-burger, I'd call her. I am terrified to see when she grows up and she may never recognize me, or for that fact, doesn't want to. Her laughter was so odd, but familiar. Her smile was always a deal breaker. She suckered me into a lot of things. Hell, her birthday is only a few days after mine. We even share our moods and excitements the same way. She didn't hesitate to tell everyone who I was to her. I think she didn't like to call me "Brother Res" (an adoptive name given to me by the Row House families), but she loved to call me dad. My final memory of her was of me seeing her skate (which she and her mother taught me...actually, Chloe did). But the lasting one will always be when she looked at me when a waitress asked her if I was her dad (cause we both had locks). Today, she had on her mother's purple jacket, and it was one of my faves. I liked when she wore it, seeing purple is my favorite color. I wonder if she still wears the shirt I got her for Christmas (they celebrated).

Of course, my ex and her new man greeted everyone we both knew and worked with. I don't think she wanted to come near me, however she conveniently found ways of walking towards my area...with him. She said she'd never come to Project Row Houses again, because she knew I was working here. She even asked me if I still worked there. Maybe it was time, because everything she wanted came to her, quickly. A possibility of a husband, career pay advancement, a new vehicle (even though that was so packaged with him), and maybe even a new house. The tarots that my friend, @khimmy_J read for me months ago, mentioned that I may secretly wish that she would fail in this relationship, and that would make the relationship between us strained in a possible mend of a future friendship. I was on automatic when I met some newer people, and even better, as one person, meditation, rituals, and a lot of Capoeira helped me push this ill feeling to the side. Seeing them only makes me think about why I should be happy.

I need to do more for me in order for me to be spiritually free. I cannot expect her to be miserable, even if it was a blame game. Miserable is still miserable. I don't want the children to forget me. I even told Corey I loved them, as he was the first and last one I saw as the "family" left. I wanted to cry again. I am happy that I got to hug him. Cody kind of felt odd. But as Chloe tried to approach me, all I could get was a smile from her. 5 feet apart from each other. staring at each other. Truthfully, I would give anything to have my Chloe with me. She feels like my first born. The involvement with children is integral in any relationship that has any. The female may take that as a plus, or a minus, depending on the situation.

When February comes, (more than likely the last time I would get to say "Happy Birthday" to anyone in that family, before she abruptly locks the door of history on me), I hope to hear or see Chloe. If I can just bargain that for fame or importance anywhere, I would give it up for my little girl. For any, or all of them.

For now, I will be going to sleep, with the notion that this may be the last time I dream, see, hear or even have the opportunity to reunite with them.

I love you Corey, Cody, and Chloe (Sasori, Yo-yo, and Sunshine).

I hope somewhere inside you still love me.

Dad - (Ifeanyi)

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Q & A Games

So last night we played the "What If..." game. It was interesting because what I thought would be said in an abnormal conversation (if there is such a thing with me) was all laid out. She admitted that I wasn't boring, and that she wanted to know more of me. More about me. My admiration for her increase daily, however, there looms an overwhelming feeling that there's going to be some type of rapid change that will smack either one of us square in the head. Speaking of which, I like to poke fun at her head, although it's the cutest :) But, I digress.

The strong emotions I feel are unreasonably growing through talking and building. The game we played brought up future children, relationship tooling, and location. I'm not entirely sure if this is a fantasy waiting to fuck me up royally in the end, or something that is a delayed reaction from painful experiences, into a blossoming revelation of happiness. Oya is right there between us. Our ancestors are right there circling us. It's almost like a tussle for trust. A rumble for real affection.

The "What If" game brought to my attention some things in her past and my past that weren't pretty by any means, but that was the beautiful thing about it. We were ugly in our living because of the energies we were allowing to occupy our souls at that time. It's scary not hearing her, not feeling her by me, not being able to see her everyday in my dreams. We share dreams like pizza, and wash them down with interpretations. This game brings out the best and worst in us, and we play it without hesitations on finishing. We take turns asking and answering "What If" questions like it is an inning in baseball. Better yet, if one of us doesn't have anything ready to ask, it's like a turnover in football, or basketball. Possession is held by the next person. Doubled up. No fouls given. No ejections. We laugh, we contemplate, and we definitely reflect.

That's what's scaring me. The last time I felt this happy, I ended up in a relationship that stung after the initial break-ups, and the final one was like a foot on my neck. From the outside looking in, it doesn't seem like she's looking for lofty goals, but I'm realizing that the more we spread out our desires, the less I am holding off the doubts. I don't like doubting. I don't like fear.

I am a night person...and also an early morning person as well. Hell, if I'm up, I'm up. I love talking (as you can tell) and reading poems and quotes to her. She asks me to sing, and yet I'm not the best person to belt one out. LOL Hell, I'm just singing because my momma sang. I love melody. This woman is putting it back in for me. I have my own tune. She likes it. Question is, "What If" I am not supposed to sing to her? Hell of a question, right? I'm so affixed on her, that I want to submerge my emotions inside of her abyss of pleasure. I sang for my ex a few times, but I never really thought she was receptive. She claimed she loved it. I only sing when I play Capoeira, or when I'm teaching the children in the program new corridos (shorter, verse-laden Capoeira songs) When I read my poems to her, she is seemingly floored. Most of my newer poems are inspired by her. A renewal of my spirit, of sorts. I honestly couldn't muster up a true poem for my recent ex, nor any one of my exes for that matter, because it never came. My inspiration (or muse) usually is not the one I'm seeing or trying to marry. Why the hell is that? As she would say, "We have to remedy that, right away."

We fall asleep talking to each other. We sometimes don't even sleep. If at all costs, we're constantly doing everything that we'd do daily, and just add each other into the equation along the way. One time we talked for 18 hours...I swear it felt like it. It effects our work and our thoughts at times, so we try convincing each other that we must go to sleep. I wish she would, so that way she could tell me more about her dreams. Hopefully, we'd meet inside of each other's dreams and share a bowl of blissful ice cream, you know. She claims that she had a dream eerily (or prophetically) about a person similar to me. I can't tell you if it was accurate or not, because what stopped me was the fact that the first letters of my first and last name (although reversed) matched the person in her dreams. Not to mention the fact that one name was Igbo, and the other was Yoruba. Oddly enough, I study Ifa, and my name is Igbo.

I love her writing. I wish she'd write more. It seems like a female version of my life, minus some horrific experiences that were placed upon her. I don't think I'd be alive, or out on bail if I went through that shit. Maybe it's something about women who've been through pain that attracts me to them, because I feel as if I have to redeem. I think I'll be bold enough to perfect my craft, just because she's not so restrained in telling her story. I should be so lucky to live through and be more confident. She gives me that confidence.

"What If" this is right? "What If" I'm choosing door number 3 in a fail?

Know what's funny? My ex's children had a game we all played called "Imaginiff".

"Imaginiff" (Imagine if) I actually stopped living in my head and started living for the now.

Is her heart the "now"?