Just can't stop thinkin bout you

He is Egyptian, a Pharoh, from West Berkeley, an optimist. If his compassion for humanity was placed in front of the horizon it would block out the sun but it would never for he is translucent, iridescent, luminous. He IS light. He came to me like the wings of a sunrise with outstretched arms and a curved smile. He is Kemet's finest, heavens hope, he is everything Heather Headley claimed him to be, what Jill Scott only WISH she had and The Truth as described by India Arie... so yeah, I might be crushin' a lil bit....
dark chocolate brown (we would make such beautiful babies), he sings, draws, cooks...oh good Lord, he cooks!
HOW COULD I FORGET: He's a poet!!!!
If it turns out I'm completely wrong about him, if he disappears into a puff of smoke and never returns, those three hours were enough. If he doesn't exist, this Taharka, this Pharaoh, this Nubian God if he is a figment of my most eloquent imagination, he is conceivable which is inspirational because it means there could be one such as him to cradle my heart. He is...if I could...in a word...breathtaking
 p.s. he's tall

365/365 (yay!) Phone notes

You sunk to the bottom of my stomach that immediately felt like I imagine a bubble would while carrying a weight that is not it's own. You've stolen all...

*She fell asleep with the murder weapon in her hand. And still ringing...
*They become sobbing ill-neccesities
*That night was supposed to be closure,
it was supposed to be closure.
It didn't feel like closure.


It felt like open heart surgery with no Novocaine,
It felt like open wound....
It was supposed to feel like rain
like deep rest
like healing.

It felt like tearing....

*