Five Hundred Words

If I had five hundred words before I die,

I would tell you how I feel as concisely while maintaining the raw essence of my aspirations

I would reach out to as many people as I can, with a hundred “Hello’s” to brighten the day of those who thought this day would be the last of their existence

Or one “Hello” over a loud speaker so that a hundred people can hear it….efficiency

If I had five hundred words left,

I would finally cash out the bottle that contained all of the pennies that have accumulated for your thoughts

While searching for the constant others that I tossed into all those wishing wells as the wish of you becoming mine finally became a reality…

In order to deposit them into the savings account of my heart in order to accrue more of your interest

I wouldn’t speak the whole five hundred words, but rather act them out keeping in mind that

If a picture is worth a thousand words, I would use these 500 to create so many pictures that I would create the Sistine Chapel to show off to the world that you are picture perfect

No filter…

I know that if I speak with the notion of 500 words left, those that matter would ask for an explanation thus utilizing 37 extra words and yes I have counted. So I would hope they can figure out the prose of realization just by looking into the whites of my eyes…while I remain speechless

With these five hundred words

I would only need 3 to tell those I care about how I feel,

While only using 2 for those who gave me these wounds while trying to escape the barrel of life

And using the majority to give a voice to those that cannot muster up the courage to say what is on their mind.

Most importantly I know that if I were to spend my last words on earth with anyone, it would be you

Limitless Thoughts, Limited Colloquies

Wishing that I had more to say, but knowing that our hearts are so intertwined that you identify what I am to say before its utterance

And while the words I have left hastily deplete, know that if I was ever speechless in the time that I was here, just know that it wasn’t because I didn’t have words to say

But rather because the thoughts that I had for you became my ghostwriter, allowing the words that I wanted to say to resonate off of my spirit with such magnitude that you can feel it miles away

And know that those five more minutes we could’ve spent on the phone wasn’t because I was tired, but because I wanted to see you in my dreams so badly, that I couldn’t wait to go to sleep

I hope that I gave you enough pieces of me, so that when it is all said and done I can say that I…

She

She

She…
Is a beautiful black woman who knows what she wants out of life
A beautiful head upon positive shoulders
A sister, friend, aunt and inevitably…a wife
That is what she is

She…
Is constantly physically and even metaphorically portrayed as a,
Scantily clad façade of pride who is only appreciated more, when she takes off less
When approached my men, she knows they are thinking about how she looks under that dress
Because of her coke bottle figure and her perky breasts
Under constant duress because the media made her this way
Made her to feel as if she isn’t a person, but an object
Because of porn videos, music videos and reality TV.
And to her dismay whatever reputation she has established,
Would demolish at the mere sound of “bands would make her dance"

She…
Is constantly reminded that she is not beautiful
Because every ad, tv show, movie, and magazine portrays what society considers beauty
Lighter skin, thin frame, straight hair
Thus taking away from the true denotation of the word
Sex sells and those with a nice body, make the most commission
So it is her mission to get like those women on TV

…But it isn’t what she….looks like

So she starts dieting by throwing up what she consumes,
and working out 6 hours a day to the point where the sweat protruding from her body starts to fume and she struggles within the 5^th and 6^th hour but she feels she must burn the calories from the stick of gum she had for lunch..
but don’t worry it was spearmint so it was 20 calories instead of 15…
Straightening those natural curls, her identity weakening with every stroke of the hot comb
Wearing make- up that will make her chocolate skin infused with a bit of caramel and changing her wardrobe,
because of what the media has etched into her head…
Wearing lip gloss, concealer and eye liner to bed, not only so she can feel better about herself, but because she feels she will look good in the morning


She isn’t she….anymore. But has taken the identity and persona of “them”


She…
Is now a mere shadow of what she used to be
She… has allowed herself to fall victim to the “Barbie”, Top Model and “Maybe it’s Maybelline” America
She...would now rather listen and pay more attention to Nicki Minaj, than Nikki Giovanni
Now a pawn in life’s game of chess, being allowed to only move to protect the king of the media,
taking misdirection from the knights of peer pressure
but not realizing that she was ALREADY a queen
Now that she…has now taken on a new identity to conform to the “formalities” that the media has deemed “beautiful”
Although she still doesn’t love herself because this new identity isn’t the beauty her mom used to possess

Now when she looks in the mirror, what looks back isn’t the same person
But in fact a façade of a woman who got caught up..
She…has forgotten where she has come from
And although her parents brought her up right…even she….couldn’t escape..