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.