I Found The World

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I found the world

Beautiful, today

As I stood on 

The edge of Today

Looking out to 

Tomorrow.

No matter how

Long I looked

I could not see

Beyond the gray

Clouds that hung

Close to the horizon.

Eventually,

I grew tired of

Trying to see what

The future held,

Choosing to use 

My imagination.

In the depths of

My gray matter,

I built a world

Filled with splendid

Wonders that

Had be yearning 

For them to become

Reality.

Soon, my imaginings

Became more than

Dreams to entertain

And delight me,

They became the 

Blueprint for the 

World I wanted to create.

Today, I worked on
Creating a future
I wished to live in,
But still I knew that
Now was beautiful,
Was worthy of
My attention and
So I reside in that
Sweet middle ground
Of enjoying now
And creating for later.

I found the world
Beautiful, today.

He Paints

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He paints.

My daughter says this
Every time I ask what
Her new boyfriend does.

Paints?
Paints what?
Paints houses?
Paints cars?

She would roll her eyes,
Bored of the conversation.

He paints pictures,
Everyday he wakes up
And goes to his studio
And paints.

What kind of Caribbean man
Paints for a living?
How can he provide for you
If you get married?
What about children?
They are not cheap
Nowadays.

The conversation would go
Downhill from here with
Both of us frustrated
And we would move on
To a topic less volatile.

He paints.

My daughter once took me
To his studio,
A messy place with
Unfinished paintings
Everywhere.

Those that were finished
Were pretty enough,
But pretty does not
Put food on the table.

In the corner of the studio
Stood something draped with
A heavy fabric. A piece
He's working on, said
My daughter,
He has yet to show her.

He paints.

The days after the visit
To his studio were spent
With me wanting to see
The shrouded painting.

Curiosity got the better
Of me and I snuck
Into the studio.

Carefully, I removed
The cloth and before me
Was my daughter,
Then I saw my grandmother,
Or was it my mother?
Or was it me?

The paint on canvas
Froze in time four women
Of one lineage, one blood,
All found in one woman.

This woman painted on canvas
Had my grandmother's resilience,
My mother's nurturing spirit,
My stubborness, but
The woman was my daughter.

My heart ached as
I saw the innocence
And hope in her eyes,
Things that I once possessed
Before life did away with them
A long time ago.

Somehow,
My daughter's boyfriend
Captured more than her likeness,
He captured her soul
And the souls of the women
Before her.

I replaced the heavy cloth
Over the painting, reluctantly,
And snuck out of the studio.

I never asked my daughter
What her new boyfriend
Did for a living,
Having accepted the truth
And seeing it from
A new perspective.

He paints.
No he does more than
Paint, he freezes people
In time, taking their
Likeness and spirit and
Trapping them on canvas.

He does not paint,
He performs miracles.

But..

"Do you love him?"
Soft lips murmuring
Against my aroused lips,
Pleading eyes looking up
From between my thighs.

"Sshh.
Don't speak of him,"
I answered, evading
The question the best
Way I could.

She rose up, sitting
Back on her haunches,
Her eyes leveled on mine,
My juices smearing her lips.
"Answer me, Jasmine."

I got on all fours
And kissed her,
Palming her breasts
Before tweaking her nipple.
She groaned.

I pulled away,
Getting out of bed,
Putting on my clothes.
"Where are you going?"
Panic in her voice or
Was it sexual frustration?

"Home, home to him,"
I answered, heading
For the front room.
"I came here to forget
About him, but you seem
Bent on talking about him."

"Don't go, Jasmine,"
She came up behind me,
Snaking her arm around
My waist, pulling me into her,
"I promise I won't mention him."

"You promise?" I asked
Turning to look her
In the eyes.

"I promise with
All my heart, pretty lady,"
She said with a mix
Of sobriety and lust.

She kissed me softly
Then took my hand and
Led me back to
Her bedroom.

She made love to me
The way he never could.
Her touch was soft,
Her embrace was tender,
And when she was finished
I felt loved and cherished.

I waited until
She was fast asleep
Before slipping away,
Returning to him.

Do I love him?
No, but he is the man
I married, the father
Of my children,
The breadwinner.

I love her but
I must live with him.

Tell Me A Lie

Tell me a lie,
Let it skim
Against my skin,
Let it wrap me,
Snugly like
A blanket, tightly
Like a cocoon,
Until the truth
Come out and
Pierces my heart
With its serrated edge,
Trust bleeding out
Of the gaping wound.

Tell me a lie,
Let me savour it,
Taste its cunning
Mixture of salty and sweet.
Let me swallow
It down, consume it
In its entirety
Until it proves to be
Poison and I grow
Sick from it,
Sick of you.

Tell me a lie,
Let me play with it
Like a newly acquired
Puppy. Let me
Show it to friends,
Family, even strangers
Who show the slightest
Interest until it grows
Too big, too ill mannered,
To dangerous, too much
To handle, leaving you
Standing over my mauled
Ego.

Tell me the lie
I want to hear,
The lie you want to tell,
Let me live in
This artificial world
Constructed by the fine
Threads of the lie.
I hoping it's real,
You hoping nothing and
No one snaps a thread.

Tell me a lie
So a false sense
Of peace may descend
On us. We would
Breathe it's smog like quality,
Telling ourselves that
It smells like fresh air,
Believing it's a cool breeze
On a hot, humid day.

Tell me a lie,
Tell me you love me.