The word love
inter-changes in my life / between a noun and a verb
like a bloom from a seed / without me knowing
until someone yells foul
and throws a wounded heart on the field.
And I’m not the only one
reminiscing and remixing / tea and lemonade.
hoping for a different outcome when it’s left in the sun
—— we still become bitter.
because it’s still us.
or maybe it’s me
trying to make new history
with the same songs
the same wrongs
the same long
days and nights
of wanting to be recognized or feeling justified
for the march in my walk
the bite in my talk
My love for you is always there,
a noun, like / friend.
Friends you won’t dime on cause their
life is worth gold
and their mistakes are splintered wood better buried.
I love the courage of my camouflage
business of my blue
and I remained true
even when you abandoned me like an end of December Christmas tree
/ I hung you on my key ring with the other places I needed
to go back to. I kept you – around.
Love is like a boulder on my
a landslide ready to give in
love starts moving when I add – i.n.g.
I suppose love is only a verb
when it comes to unapologetically loving
(performed by Danielle Mone Truitt, “Rebel“)
almost a lamentation for “Rebel Yell” on BET.com
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