Love
“Some connections aren’t loud—they linger.”
At Attention
Sirens sing like trumpets.
We stand at attention.
It’s our song.
“Some songs command us without ever raising their voice.”
Sirens sing like trumpets.
We stand at attention.
It’s our song.
Our tradition.
A symbol of retention—
sound bent through memory.
Maine Black
To my childhood friend—
I’ma write you into the story
with the glory you deserved.
“Some names live because we keep saying them.”
To my childhood friend—
I’ma write you into the story
with the glory you deserved.
They all saw you different.
You knew my body
like a nerve.
One wheel
coming around the curb.
Full vertical angle—
that’s how I’m gonna
have them seeing you.
My buddy first.
Nigga who told me
he loved me—no homo.
Time wasting,
listening to Hussein, Fatal.
All I remember
is cold nights.
We was out there
still taking—
no mask, no gloves,
just spark plugs and razors.
Jackwright Brothers.
“Maine they got caught sleeping”
And your voice would say,
they got “Jacked right. nigga”
Crooked smile.
You’re in my heart dear pal
In due time, my friend,
they’ll see you
shine again.
After Closure
Unending stories,
pretending they’re common.
Closure was never.
“Closure is a story we tell ourselves after the ending fails.”
Unending stories,
pretending they’re common.
Enclosed.
Closure was never.
Hearts embarked
on a voyage
without lifeguards.
What are the odds of closure
once you’ve moved on?
What’s the cost of knowing
we still bond?
Fond of your truth—
the venture of your days,
the frames, the ratios.
Seeing what you see
without you.
Daydreaming inside reality.
Learning
how to live
without you.
Congratulations.
Off Limits
She’s too close to my friend.
So I keep her off limits.
And that was the discipline.
“I respect my friendships more than my _____.”
It’s just some things you don’t forget
Some people
One person
Her smile was rare
She spoke the way I always hoped they could
She’s too close to my friend
That makes her off limits
I respect my friendships more than my dick
It don’t matter if they like you
You act like they don’t exist
But this smile
Was unrelative, untraditional
It knew the difference between dislike and hatred
Breaking things down
With a clarity most can’t pronounce
They try—then say anything
She didn’t
Precise without showing off
Clever without asking for credit
This was a creator
An empress
And restraint
Was the endeavor
Circa 1997
I mistook that feeling for you.
But it wasn’t you I carried forward.
It was the awakening.
“Some people don’t stay. They set the standard and disappear.”
I met you before I knew what love was,
before I knew what it could cost
or what it could give back.
I was a boy still borrowing confidence,
still learning how to stand inside myself.
And you—
you didn’t save me.
You didn’t promise anything.
You just saw me.
That night wasn’t long,
but it was loud inside me.
You walked with me
like I mattered.
Like I could be chosen
without auditioning.
I confused that feeling for you.
But it wasn’t you I’ve been carrying.
It was the awakening.
You were the first sentence.
Not the story.
I don’t chase your face anymore—
it changes because it isn’t meant to stay.
What stays is what you activated:
my attention,
my tenderness,
my ability to feel without armor.
I lied about my age because I didn’t want the moment to end.
That’s how I know it wasn’t meant to last.
Anything true doesn’t need disguise.
You were never supposed to be found again.
You were supposed to be remembered once
and understood later.
And now I understand.
Thank you for walking with me
before I knew how to walk alone.
Thank you for teaching me
that love doesn’t have to hurt to be real.
I release you
without resentment,
without longing,
without regret.
You were not the destination.
You were the proof
that I could begin.
Arch-Nemesis
They say keep your friends close—
and your enemies closer.
So when one passes, I go disciplined.
“Big asses are my arch-nemesis.”
Big asses are my arch-nemesis.
They say, ‘Keep your friends close—
and your enemies even closer.’
So every time I see one,
I gotta stay focused.
Keep your eyes on your enemies.
Fastest Loss
The people I fall in love with
are the ones I lose the fastest.
“The people I fall in love with are the ones I lose the fastest.”
The people I fall in love with are the ones I lose the fastest.
Keep the Heels On
Some intimacy doesn’t ask you to undress.
It asks you to stay exactly where you are.
“Desire doesn’t rush. It remembers.”
Keep the heels on
not for performance—
but because some moments
aren’t meant to be undone.
Balance.
Poise.
Control.
From the side.
Leg lifted isn’t asking.
It’s already decided.
Lip Gloss Memory
Some flavors linger
longer than moments.
“Some flavors linger longer than moments.”
You wear the lip gloss
that made our lips stick
when we kissed.
Cherry.
Strawberry.
Watermelon.
I’ve tasted all of them.
After the Shades Close - Explicit
FaceTime ain’t been the same
since we had FaceTime.
“Desire speaks loudest when the world goes quiet.”
Put your pussy on my face.
Let me close the shades.
FaceTime ain’t been the same
since we had FaceTime.
Tongue on your fruit—
and I ain’t talking
no bitten apples.
Hold your waist up
like a broken dinner table—
c’mon, what you doing?
Why you moving?
I’m just saying.
You be playing.
Let me put my face in?
Fall Asleep Together
Not everything needs a destination. Sometimes closeness is quiet—shared screens, shared silence, and the comfort of drifting off knowing someone stayed.
“No plans.
Just company.”
What are you doing tonight?
I was thinking we could FaceTime—
share my screen,
put something on Netflix,
and just fall asleep.
A Message to Women
This isn’t advice.
It’s acknowledgment.
For the weight you carry without asking to be seen.
For the tenderness you protect like a second language.
For the way you keep moving, even when stillness would be easier.
This message isn’t here to fix you.
It’s here to recognize you.
You don’t owe the world resilience.
You don’t owe beauty an explanation.
You don’t owe anyone access to your becoming.
This is simply a letter—
written with care,
received without obligation.
A message to women,
for everything you’ve already survived
and everything you’re still choosing.
A Message to Women by Reyna Biddy
Daydream Audio
I Beseech You
A restrained meditation on attraction, presence, and the anxiety that rises when admiration is honest.
“Attraction doesn’t rush.
It adjusts.”
I beseech you.
Anxiety climbs
when I see you.
I move to the other side
just to let you through.
I don’t think you’re cute—
I assure you,
you’re beautiful.
Exceptional.
You don’t need Chanel.
Maybe something out of Tiffany’s.
Diamonds are forever, and
the ten-millimeter white studs
bring out your eyes more clearly.
I Learned How to Play
A reflection on heartbreak, misalignment, and how loss rewrites the rules of intimacy.
“Some lessons don’t hurt you once.
They change how you love forever.”
This ain’t for competition.
My heart went missing.
If I gotta go through you to get it back,
so be it—
I’m with it.
He stayed resistant.
She played me.
Obviously.
I was lost in the place I grew up.
Everybody knew—
who knew us.
Pain with no bruises.
I lost myself when I took that loss.
I died on that porch.
Rest in peace to him,
because the new me
will never love the same again.
Fall in love again—
maybe.
But not like that.
I played them like she played me.
Said I love you
when I didn’t.
Damn.
I didn’t know how to play
until I got played.
There wasn’t a day
I didn’t tell myself
they ain’t shit—
not because they weren’t,
but because I felt like shit.
It took time to heal.
A new love came.
I turned the page.
Intentional Movement
A reflection on presence, intention, and the unspoken language of movement—where posture, rhythm, and restraint speak louder than performance.
“Presence is louder than performance.”
I’m on your body
because you move different.
Not just independent—
intentional.
Every step has purpose.
Every pause says something.
I’ve studied presence.
I recognize form, posture, rhythm—
the language before words.
You don’t perform.
You align.
When Desire Breaks Its Own Mirror
A reflection on attraction, projection, and the emotional shock that follows when fantasy collapses under truth.
“Attraction isn’t betrayal.
Shock is what happens when imagination outpaces truth.”
The most unsettling thing that can happen to a man
isn’t attraction—
it’s attraction without context.
Hear me out.
A friend of mine—
fully heterosexual, deeply drawn to women.
Their shape. Their beauty. Their presence.
He sees someone who fits the image perfectly.
Body sculpted. Face soft. Confidence natural.
Desire forms fast.
Instinct does what it’s trained to do.
Something feels off.
The name doesn’t align.
The behavior doesn’t settle.
Later, the truth arrives—not gently.
The person he imagined
was never who he thought they were.
And that’s where the damage happens.
Not in attraction—
but in the collapse of projection.
When the image you love becomes unattainable,
the mind scrambles to protect itself.
Shock turns to grief.
Grief sharpens into anger.
Not because of deception—
but because fantasy was allowed to replace knowing.
This is what happens
when imagination builds faster than reality can correct it.
Pain doesn’t come from desire.
It comes from the moment desire realizes
it never asked enough questions.
Inner Child
My inner child be beefing with me.
He want sour gummies. I gotta cook dinner.
“Care is sometimes inconvenient.”
My inner child be beefing with me.
He be like,
“Yo, all you do is drink coffee and smoke weed.”
“I’m a kid.
I need nutrition.
I want something to eat.”
I’m like,
“What you want?”
He like,
“Something sweet.”
He like the sour gummy peaches.
He know it’s not nutritious,
but he hungry now.
So now I gotta cook
and wash dishes.
We always eat curry chicken.