Love
“Some connections aren’t loud—they linger.”
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.
Body Smile
Before the mouth learns joy,
the body tells the truth.
A shoulder relaxes.
A breath leans in.
The spine remembers how to listen.
This is not a smile you practice.
It arrives without instruction,
without mirrors,
without witnesses.
The body smiles
when it feels safe enough
to be honest.
And nothing
is louder than that.
Your veins are threads
beneath a mesh of skin.
Your complexion—
chocolate,
dusted with sugar-cinnamon.
Enough
Forget the performance.
I keep my heart
where it can breathe
without auditioning.
I am not more
when I’m chosen,
and I am not less
when I’m left.
Nothing is missing.
Nothing needs approval.
I didn’t become enough—
I remembered I already was.
Maybe love isn’t enough.
Maybe what I’m asking for
is to be loved
the way I need.
Maybe I’m asking for a home
inside a person.
If your heart can’t hold me,
hold me in your soul.
Forget the performance.
I keep my heart
where it’s safe.