Leave the red soil and unmixed gravel.
Fill your suitcase with your first smile, your first walks.
This trip will be about everything that came first in your life.
You have embraced thorn tress that have graced your forefathers soil.
Ran rampant for the glimpse of the eclipse and solar systems awakening.
You have trudged on barefoot for the love that eluded you so swiftly.
Little girl of color he showed what love shouldn’t be or what love couldn’t be.
He opened you up like a cookie jar and emptied you out.
Emptied the sharp ray of sunrise when sheets tangled with hair and clothes not yet born in that moment.
When moans and screams were a distant memory as if it happened in another century in another time.
He let you thrash around, a wave unyielding and divine.
He made himself your moon, destined to forever rule your tide.
You cannot hit the rocks without consulting with him first if you should be free.
He was not made to be your master.
His love wasn’t steady, it was fatal.
With his whim, you not only died but perished.
With his allowance, you took a breath.
He did not love you, He owned you.
Oh what a jealous God we have.
You worshipped a being, living and breathing.
Little girl of color, this is you leaving the lining of familiarity.
The heat that radiates off the core of your center when fingertips graze gently upon the small hairs on your skin.
The humming of the caged bird that seems to purr when the sound waves that escapes from his lips vibrate upon your Tympanic membrane.
His voice was warm, it sounded like warm sunsets when roses were full in bloom
His deep voice reminded you of a much more innocent time when kisses were stolen on New Year’s Eve.
But Darling he wasn’t meant to be yours.
So as you pack your suitcase, remind yourself of simpler times.
Eating the dust from your heels won’t make him come back.
And crawling under the sheets with him won’t make him stay.