Allow me to introduce myself, to submit myself, to define myself
To over-analyze myself, to establish myself, in an attempt to defend my wealth.
I allow you to acknowledge me, to perceive me, to address me
To get to know me, to appease me, to rectify me, only to judge me.
I am the “golden” child
I am the “went to college” child, the “never does anything wrong” child,
the “has no baby daddy’s” child.
And now I am an only child.
Death snatched the favorite child.
Maybe God took the wrong child.
I am the “token” friend.
I am the “really pretty for a black girl” friend, the “you don’t look black” friend,
the “you have the perfect skin tone” friend.
I would pass the brown paper bag test friend.
The “loyal”, though it is not often returned, friend.
The you talk shit behind my back but smile in my face friend.
Trust me, I see you…”friend”.
I am Sham.
And by all intents and purposes of the word I am a sham.
I am extraordinarily selfish. I am OCD to a fault.
I will forget to hold you. I will sometimes dismiss your thoughts.
I will throw gifts at our problems. My jealousy will get the best of my sanity.
I am set in my ways. I can be cold to a “T”.
You only want the appealing parts of me.
You think you know me, but you don’t
You think you will change me, but you won’t.
You just want to try me on, then put me in a box.
You want me to be everything you want me to be, until I’m not.
And you wonder why I only give you the surface
Because beneath lies all this untapped purpose
I am compounded; my nature is like letters of cursive
And your presence may only offer me a disservice.
You are mistaken if you think I need you, versus
Wanting you which is a greater dispersive.
So you continue to hold me in the coercive
Because you deem it unflattering to be subversive.
And now you are wordless.
I have my rough edges. My imperfections are an art.
I may not do a lot of things. But I will stay when you fall apart.
I want to know you, I want to unravel you.
Between us there should be no shame.
And the only thing I want to change about you
Is your address and your last name.
So, don’t pit me against the pitfalls of your insecurities and your discrepancies
Because you are intimidated by my security and my loyalty
Don’t hide your scars from me.
For they are the roadmap to the intricacies of you that my eyes cannot see.
I like the way you wear weakness.
But you are woman which means the cloak of self-doubt can be replaced with the mink
Of self-worth and I will pay the cost for it no matter the fee
Because you, is now we.
I wish I could make you see.
To the next best thing is where you flee.
Only to realize there really wasn’t anything wrong with me.
I don’t care about your makeup, though it’s nice
I want the “you” first thing in the morning, that simplicity will suffice.
I will kiss your pain and I will hold your tears
I will make love to your hurt and be vulnerable to your fears
I will caress your heartache and reverse the things you believe aversive
I am not afraid to love your soul, but I refuse to love your surface.
People have become so afraid of depth, of pain, of realness, of flaws, of your imperfect past and your blurred future. Love and Life have become so generic, so fake, so scared, so surface. We must break the cycle of “the next best thing”. We must redefine the meanings of loving and living.