Simple Requests

(photo not my own)
(photo not my own)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I only asked for honesty

Never requested that you make good on your promises

What were you afraid of?

Were you surprised that I’m not the “eat it too” part of the cake statement

I am layers

Light, fluffy delicious layers

The whole cake

You didn’t realize it until you couldn’t swallow

Choked on your words

Reached for water but found that a glass wasn’t enough to clear your airway

I reside in your lungs

Closed your eyes and tried to breathe deeply but was surrounded by the memory of my scent…cake baking

I only asked for honesty

Never requested that you explain undigested fantasies

I only asked for honesty

In exchange for rich layers of life fulfilled and loyalty

Offered you days passed as the honored guest at the banquet of my commitment

I only asked for honesty

You’d rather subsist on the malnutrition of your lies

That table has a place setting for one

Eat up.

© Stephanie Bryant 2014

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Respite of Black

(unidentified artist)

 

He kissed her thigh
Lips trailed to flesh above the crook of her knee
Simply acknowledged her beauty
All of it
Exchanged laughter with her as they lay
Bedtime stories
Silky words on high cotton thread counts and a down pillow top
Respite before the sunrise

She traced a finger across his chin
Considered that she could love him
Simply acknowledged his value
All of it
Reminisced on his gentle power
Drew the blinds to shut out the sunrise
Warm memories in a cold bedroom encased by heavy comfort
Respite before they had to rise

They walked through doorways
Fingers clenched
Hands reluctant to let go
Simply acknowledging the newness
All of it
Jaguar dreams and Bentley ambitions
The potential of the future
The reality of the day looming
Plans for respite redux

He needed to do no more in the moment
Simply acknowledge her beauty
Demonstrate his gentle power
And she would be willing
to provide him respite
indefinitely

 

 

Realization of Truth

 

truth (1)

 

She straddled his lap, staring into his eyes. Am I forcing this? She questioned herself.  Am I making intimacy my mission?  It had been two months since her breakup with “what’s his name”, as her friends had resorted to calling him.  Two whole months since she had sworn off love and embraced the pursuit of all things hedonistic.

Just go with it and stop with the fucking questions! She chided herself.  His eyes were honest…kind.  Who cares! You’re not doing this for the emotion.  Pressing her lips to his, she felt his hands slide around her back, threaded fingers pulling her closer.  “You’re beautiful”, he exhaled the words into her open mouth.  She pulled back, refusing to inhale them.  “Let me fix you a drink.”  Sliding off his lap she walked in the direction of the kitchen.

You’re beautiful.” He leaned against the door frame, watching her intently.  “That’s all” crossing his arms, eyebrow quirked, three days of stubble only justifiable for someone in his line of work, “no additional motivation”.

She believed him.  “Thank you.” Awkward.

“Do you believe it?” He asked, genuinely curious.  She continued pouring, playing amateur barkeep.  He filled the silence,  “I recall the day I saw you speaking to someone in the coffee shop, you never smiled, you were so intense. It was stunning.”   He stepped forward, away from the door frame.  “I remember thinking that your teeth were perfectly imperfect and I loved how your lips curved at the corner.  I was willing to approach you even if it meant having that mouth tell me to shove off.”  She smiled at how his accented speech made everything alluring.

Handing him the glass she slid past.  No eye contact. “Are you working tomorrow?, she asked, obviously seeking a distraction.  “If not, there’s a gallery preview that you may be interested in.”  She watched him sip his drink thoughtfully.

“Will this give me more time with you?  If so, tell me what time and I will be there.”  He took another slow sip allowing the whiskey to slip past his lips with appreciation.

“Do you ever say the wrong thing?”  She asked skeptically.

“Of course I do, most of the time, actually”, he laughed.  “It just seems to happen less frequently when I’m with you”, he paused, “something about you makes me want to say the right thing all of the time.”

She walked toward him.  Damn Oprah and her ‘aha’ moments.  Is this mine?

Is he part of my truth? Someone who wants to please me.  The guy that doesn’t try to justify why he doesn’t “need” me with scientifically therapeutic explanations.  The one who’s okay needing me because he’s sure that he wants me.

She realized, two months after “what’s his name”, that she had been missing something as human and fragile as necessity.

Fucking emotions.

 

(Constructed to Kimbra: Settle Down)

Love Note

I no longer write about love

It used to interest me

Cause me to ponder

Leave me utterly bewildered and befuddled

Create longing

Force me to gesticulate wildly

Generate tears

Emphasize pain

Put the exclamation point on joy

I came to the conclusion that

I no longer write about love.

Today.

Bigger Shoes

My structure is clean
I call it “fuck your expectations” clean
I purposefully destroyed my perfectly applied lipstick
Realized that maybe it’s Maybelline that convinced me that my natural cupids bow is just not peaked enough
My lips not pouty enough
My teeth not bright enough
Unless they are encased, surrounded or accented by Red Revival or Lavender Voltage
Or maybe not
Maybe it’s the fact that my words get lost when I am reduced to a picture of full glossy lips
Stare worthy tops and bottoms that cause your ears to turn off
Just one more pretty bitch
Creating a glitch in the system of educated conversation

I intentionally demolished the artfully blended eye shadow
Embraced after hundreds of YouTube videos
Black girls drawing feline-esque accents
Creating upturned corners
“chinky eyes” in Nubian skin
Calculated exoticism
Removed the fluttering lashes
Oprah wears mink, so must I
Stopped enhancing my big brown eyes with bright pigments
Ceased to be aware of and stopped using my angles
When I realized my MAC is inviting you to mac
Causing you to miss the sincerity behind my statements
The depth of passion visually conveyed lost to cosmetic effect
Just one more bad bitch
Creating an error in the syntax

Removed the skinny jeans
The accent to the full bottom
That made you lose your True Religion
Trust me even the strong willed can get lost
RiRi’d and Minaj’d into a mirage of who I should be
Losing who I am
Did you hear me?
My eyes are up here
My lips are moving
Get your narrow mind off my narrow waist
My verbal is knocking on your thick skull
Your mental is concentrated on knocking off these thick thighs
Who’s at fault?
Never mind placing blame
I don’t want to be
The flyest chick
Creating a fly in the ointment

I kicked off those heels hours ago
Your expectations
My imprint
Your lust
My legacy
Real Louboutins Fake Jimmy Choos
All that I know is
I have bigger shoes
to fill

© 2014 Stephanie Bryant 

Catching Up

credit to depsycho at Deviant Art (chained heart)

I’d like to be chased

by the one

know what it feels like

to be caught

captured

engulfed in the madness

that is love.

I’d like to be pursued

relentlessly

bounty hunter

price tag on my ass

worth the exhaustion

chased.

I’d like to be ensnared

tangled

breathless in my attempt to escape

resigned to stay

trapped.

I’d like to be enslaved

shackled

willingly committed

to unwilling moments

imprisoned.

By love