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.
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.
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?
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.
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.