Wednesday Writes is my new series which is where I share a creative piece of writing. Today I decided to share something short and steamy….

Is My Dress Too Short?

I am in front of your building


In a dress so short, the wind caresses my thighs

You turn the corner to see me

A slow smirk spreads across your face

Legs, hips, chest, and finally lips

All the places you look before you land on my eyes

Its funny how that particular look would disgust me

Yet in this moment, I welcome it

My wine stained lips purse in anticipation

Of our next move

The door creaks as it opens

You follow the sway of my dress

Words begin to spill out

I look at you

Somehow you never finish your sentence

And my heel clicks as you reach for your keys.

“Hurry,” I whisper.

The collision of my back and the wall

Signal our entrance

And in a moment’s notice

My dress slides to the ground

But as I write this I remember this never happened

So I guess I should ask,

Should we make this reality?









Milk: A Realization

I used to think that riding carousels and running down beaches was going to be the sign of my love for you. That it was gonna be snippets of bedtime stares and you bringing me roses each time you saw me. And that without a doubt in my mind I would know I loved you. I would feel it. My smile would alert the world. It would be obvious and enviable. And you would return it.

Right? Isn’t that what it’s supposed to be like? Just you and I in our own world?

It didn’t happen that way.

I started craving your presence when I was folding a navy long sleeve t-shirt. I went to go get a carton of milk and thought you would tell me to get 1% instead of 2%.

I bought 1%.

One morning someone told me a story and in it one of their friends had your name. I found it difficult to remember the end of that story.

The title of a book made your face flash before my eyes, and then everything was blurry.

The woman who handed me a tissue realized I was crying before I did.

I saw you in everything.

The book I was reading.

The tv show I was watching.

The dog that was the same color as your dog.

The milk I poured in the eggs I made before work.

And my writing.

But unlike I thought it would be, it was a sad day when I realized I loved you. I had every doubt in my mind. I didn’t smile. It wasn’t obvious and for damn sure it wasn’t enviable.

And you didn’t return it.

I used to think that riding carousels and running down beaches was going to be the sign of my love for you. That it was gonna be snippets of bedtime stares and you bringing me roses each time you saw me. Yet it was the need for you to be with me in the moments I was most alone that I realized I loved you. I wanted you for the mundane things in life. I knew I was stuck. I would always care about you.

What a tragedy that I didn’t tell you about my love before I sent you away.

I am going to get milk today.

I will buy 2%, this time.

Hey: A Modern Love Story


It was great seeing you today

I enjoyed myself



I was wondering

You know if you are free

Like we could hang out?


You and I

I think

It could be




Just wanted to say that

I have never felt like this

I am finding it hard to stay grounded

Are you floating too?



I don’t know anymore



Are you still mad at me?


When you did that, I felt….

I never saw you yell like that

I think I found something I don’t like about you.



Can we stop being miles apart in the same room?


Hey can you…?

Take me with you just once.

Take me to the place you go when you leave me.



Are you in pain too?

I keep forgetting to ask.

I was hoping we could do that thing where we talk.

You know? I just wanted to hear your voice because I miss you.

That’s foreign for me. That desire.

I forgot how the simplest feeling like missing someone makes you feel alive.



When it left

Something in me died too

I keep wishing that never happened




I haven’t seen you in a while.




How Do I Write This Story?



I want to tell a story.


I want to give the protagonist a beginning, middle, and an end.


I want them to enjoy childhood, go to school, fall in love, work, and find a passion.


I want them to encounter a problem.


Endure it.


Overcome it.


Learn from it.


I want there to be supporting characters that challenge, love, and nurture my protagonist.


I want my readers to see the human in the protagonist’s flaws.


I want the story to have the resolution that stories have.


But what if my protagonist is black?


How do I tell that story?


We are being killed before I can finish my sentences.


Insert Here: Its hard to let go


I know you think you are special.

I know you were the first, the longest, the prettiest, or the last (for now). That’s why you are still here.

You are the one that told him about those shoes he wears all the time, he must still love you.

You were the one he did that thing to, and you are certain no other girl has experienced it.

He loves you he just hasn’t realized it.

You were the one that helped with his project one, two, three times. No other girl could have patience like that.

I get it girl, I do.

The other ones were for boredom, to occupy his time when you were busy. If he could he would spend all his time with you, right?

But he never did answer those….We need to talk


And while you were pondering what to say, he was telling the other you that he had to deal with some bullshit (aka you).

I get it girl, I do.

Why leave when you have invested so much time? I mean you have been for (insert number here) years.

You have spent (insert number here) on him.

Why would you leave? So the next girl could get all the work you put in? Hell no.


I get it girl, I do.

I get it girl, I do.

Yea girl, you too, I get it, I do.


I thought that just because we talked long hours, and our bodies could be synced for days. I thought I was the outlier too. But we all have been touched the same way, manipulated by the same words, bitten by the same snake.

When are we going to realize, that we are all the same.

We really should leave.

No I get it, girl, I do.

You saw him yesterday?

I will probably see him….


(Insert day here)




Boy Chronicles #4 (Last Installment)


Thank you for reading all of these! This is the last installment in the Boy Chronicles. Enjoy!



There are probably more of you. But I cannot think off the top of my mind how many times I have allowed you to pass me.

You look like you are afraid of the dark. Baby, I am the definition of dark. To live me, you need a nightlight to see where my mind is. To touch me you need to travel a dark and lonely road.

You look like you need me.


You weren’t supposed to touch me. We weren’t supposed to do it. Yet we did.

I let you do it because it felt good. You did it because it filled a temporary void.

You are scared of solitude, I crave it. We are on opposite ends. We pretend with each other. We proclaim honesty, but we lie more.

I respond to your touch. You respond to mine.

But you don’t care. And you taught me that intimacy isn’t worth as much as I thought.

In a small way you hurt me and you weren’t supposed to do that.

Yet you did.


Surprise. You are a surprise. Relaxed and calm. Always watching and feeling out other people.

I thought we would get along well.

But the value of touch is so lost to you.


I never thought I would be an option.

You were the first to say you were interested in me with no inhibitions. But you aren’t letting go of the past. And that might not be as big of a problem as other people make it.

And for a second my selfishness allowed me to think that I could have my cake and eat it too.

But I care about you and I think you do too. That’s all that matters.


The Boy Chronicles #3


As I have been posting these, people close to me have tried to guess who the men are and I just want to remind readers that not every man is directly related to me. SO….to the people who think they can guess who these men are, you may or may not be able to (I enjoy the tries lol). Thanks for reading!!!!


The Boy Chronicles Installment #3



Fucking asshole. You are the scum of the earth. Come into my dwelling again and I will kill you.

It’s never a question if I have ever liked you.

You have always been the weird one to me. Resorting to violence to solve your problems. Putting your hands on she, her, and them.

Being worst than the brother that died.

Threaten her again and I will kill you.

Touch my creator and being and watch your demise.

It’s not a question of morality.

Dead is what you are better as.


#10 (part 1)


These are the series of questions I wanted to ask you:


  • Why do you always smile really big when you see me? You are just nice right?
  • Do you enjoy saying my name? If so why?
  • Who am I to you?
  • Do you want to be someone to me?
  • Do you want to know my inner thoughts?
  • Could we possibly have the same thoughts?
  • How do you feel about me?


Answer honestly please.

You and I believe in silence too often.


#11 (part 2)

I think I revel in unanswered questions because I am scared of the answers. But this is not about me, it’s about you. Your being is one of questions. Questions that other people want the answers to. Answers that people go to you and get. What you do not know is that I want the answers too.

But I will never ask you. I am letting you lose what you do not know you want. Or maybe I am wanted.

Just please stop looking at me. Stop asking about me. Do not touch me. Stop being interested by my words.

Your silence is terrifying and comforting. What am I saying? You must be so confused. You must question who I am. You must wonder what my eyes say. You must want to scream what I mean to you. You want to scream that I am NOTHING. You want to scream that I am SOMETHING. I said that you and I believe in silence too often.

I was wrong.

I believe in silence.

You are driven to silence by me.



Pure beyond measure. Yet you want to be dirty. Stains on your manhood are marks of beauty to you. You want to be rid of the purity of your seeds.

She does not love you.

How do you react to that? How do you love and one does love back?

You took it as a challenge. A game you could win. You forgot that she had a choice in your game. She was the prize and you did not want your money to go to waste if you lost.

She allowed you to reach levels, but every time you got close…you failed.

You want her shit to dirty you so bad. Not living her does not mean that you will not live.

Let her dirty someone else. Let her fuck up herself.

Purity is manhood, contrary to popular belief.


The Boy Chronicles: 2nd Installment


The Boy Chronicles: Installment 2


You are lovable. You are the boy I am so proud of. I want you to be there for my son and show him that men who are made of cocoa can be powerful. I love you.

I love you because you check in. You understand what friendship is and means. This does not mean that you are perfect but you are growing with me.

People ask if we knew each other for a long time, we didn’t. We clicked.

A laugh made us the best of friends. You make me feel comfortable. Stay in my life. I feel you might slip away.

I hate fleeting connections…

update: people change



You are the person who gave me a title. Running with culture dripping from your veins, you tell me what I see. And give me a little of your world. I see love.

Simply, you love women.

That’s never a bad thing.

You love her and me. You gave me faith. With you, culture drips from me too, and I love you for that.

You showed me love. Long lasting love. Love that travels for over twenty years. That is beautiful to me.

You are who I want my son to be like.





That is your favorite word to her. She savors your presence like the sun shining on a cold day, but your absence is one thing she knows well. Upon your return, words shut her mouth because you always seem to say the right things.

Who wants to be the selfish one when you are in dire need?

The end is always close to the beginning.

Which one are you near?



Gold. White. You are my fantasy…in more ways than one. You are the forbidden man that is tangible.

In every step I see why I could be with you or one like you, but then I stop.

Stopped by the news that yields more inequality.

I want you but don’t want you.

Why do I want you?

Because you are what I want or what I have been told is perfection?


Also y’all get ready for next week’s! The next set have my two favorite vignettes out of the whole series.