Not really a poem, per say. A blog of mines from my myspace page, lol.
Here goes.
My independence....threatened his entire existence. He wasn't used to a lady like me. And I understand now, I swear I do. It's not your fault, you, like everyone else, are a product of your environment. Baby, it's all cultural differences....but aren't they what make us great? Unfortunately, they can also be what drives us away.
Being a child of the islands, i'm taught to be submissive. Being raised under a strong African-American influence, I was taught to be independent and love self. I was taught to be an individual. "Nigga, I don't need you...I need me," has always been my war cry. I refused to be a "reebok ho" chasing guys for their rides and the cash that they have, that ultimately means nothing to/for me.
So how do I let go? How do I forgo my independence in the search for the quest to nurture your understanding? Did I love you? Yes. But it wasn't enough. I don't think the feeling was ever reciprocated the way it should have been. You loved me in spite of me, I loved you because of your relentless love for me.
You loved me in all of my essence, whether my hair was kinky after braids or I'd worn it curly and flowing in waves. You loved me when my hair was wrapped up in a "doobie wrap," you loved me when me hair was sleek, straight and flat. You loved me when I debated life and its reasons. You loved my many styles and moods that changed with the seasons. You loved my love of hip hop and my devotion to good food. You loved how I wasn't a push over and when required, I could get rude. You loved my silly ways, my quirky jokes, my love of my countries, my love of my family, my dedication to the Black and Latino communities. YOU LOVED ME.
And I loved you right back. For your love of me. For you political stance. For your activeness in the community. For being the child of immigrant parents and always being a part of the fight. For allowing me into your culture, your home, your family who have always embraced me with open arms. Even through language barriers, the days spent lounging at your house watching the Simpsons and "Futbol" hosted in Spanish will always be some of my most fond memories.
You've always had immense amounts of potential, thank you for allowing me to assist you in finding the way to your dream. You are going to make someone a great husband one day. If I hear of some wedding with you and a 15 year old from "El Rancho" I swear, I'm coming in there with guns to break it up. You need a lady who can challenge you, and you know it.
Damn, I miss you. I love you. But, I have to move on. My independence challenged your existence, threatened your manhood. I've since learned to be submissive. Next time, I'm encountered with my King....I'll join him by his side as his supportive Queen. Still independent and true to myself, but a lover, companion, supporter, nourisher, conversationalist, best friend, biggest supporter, and possibly wife....to...him, whomever he may be. In the words of Chino XL.....I love you (period)
Here goes.
My independence....threatened his entire existence. He wasn't used to a lady like me. And I understand now, I swear I do. It's not your fault, you, like everyone else, are a product of your environment. Baby, it's all cultural differences....but aren't they what make us great? Unfortunately, they can also be what drives us away.
Being a child of the islands, i'm taught to be submissive. Being raised under a strong African-American influence, I was taught to be independent and love self. I was taught to be an individual. "Nigga, I don't need you...I need me," has always been my war cry. I refused to be a "reebok ho" chasing guys for their rides and the cash that they have, that ultimately means nothing to/for me.
So how do I let go? How do I forgo my independence in the search for the quest to nurture your understanding? Did I love you? Yes. But it wasn't enough. I don't think the feeling was ever reciprocated the way it should have been. You loved me in spite of me, I loved you because of your relentless love for me.
You loved me in all of my essence, whether my hair was kinky after braids or I'd worn it curly and flowing in waves. You loved me when my hair was wrapped up in a "doobie wrap," you loved me when me hair was sleek, straight and flat. You loved me when I debated life and its reasons. You loved my many styles and moods that changed with the seasons. You loved my love of hip hop and my devotion to good food. You loved how I wasn't a push over and when required, I could get rude. You loved my silly ways, my quirky jokes, my love of my countries, my love of my family, my dedication to the Black and Latino communities. YOU LOVED ME.
And I loved you right back. For your love of me. For you political stance. For your activeness in the community. For being the child of immigrant parents and always being a part of the fight. For allowing me into your culture, your home, your family who have always embraced me with open arms. Even through language barriers, the days spent lounging at your house watching the Simpsons and "Futbol" hosted in Spanish will always be some of my most fond memories.
You've always had immense amounts of potential, thank you for allowing me to assist you in finding the way to your dream. You are going to make someone a great husband one day. If I hear of some wedding with you and a 15 year old from "El Rancho" I swear, I'm coming in there with guns to break it up. You need a lady who can challenge you, and you know it.
Damn, I miss you. I love you. But, I have to move on. My independence challenged your existence, threatened your manhood. I've since learned to be submissive. Next time, I'm encountered with my King....I'll join him by his side as his supportive Queen. Still independent and true to myself, but a lover, companion, supporter, nourisher, conversationalist, best friend, biggest supporter, and possibly wife....to...him, whomever he may be. In the words of Chino XL.....I love you (period)
