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.