#Lifestyle Prose: We Not
- For Fellas, For Ladies, Lifestyle
We not making history together. The weather’s bad.
Not holding hands to sleep, call your bestie she’s better for that right?
Not making love, we not making no pie—key lime was last week,
tonight’s a heat rash on my wrist.
And you’re blaming me for not including you again,
We not making magic, we in different skies.
We not drinking alkaline water, not dreaming either.
Not thinking, we not even blinking when we speak to each other.
Not failing, we not succeeding neither,
we not being rock solid waterfalls in each others’ kingdoms.
We not making better ways to breathe into each other.
Our rainbow isn’t glowing.
Promise isn’t here keeping it safe.
I think our coffee is colding, bae. Bae?
You are not listening; you are not listening, and my faith is in some bad dream come undone one morning you were snoring right through it, I slid out of bed. My faith is in the second they were taking your phone away, and you didn’t know when you’d be able to make phone calls again. My faith is nill. My faith is in what puts ME first, your faith is surface-based in a promissory note still undelivered, still undeliverable… second chance, third chance? Fouthsies?
I think I can’t think, and ‘he’s’ on the outside link line making prank calls eating black bean mango bowls telling me I gotta love you until I’m soul-less so then I’ll give up that *ss fast as I can get, and he’s laughing, yea huh, he’s laughing into the background at my bored life choices I hang up into laterland and I cry into the glass window.
I crawl into bed with these facts.
Butterflies sitting right there and you can’t see them, slow down and see how pretty my wings are missing.
Slow down when you kiss me hello. Slower when you kiss me bye, bye.
Holding my breath and not breathing, I’m not sorry for being built my way. I’m not sorry for needing you,
I’m not sorry for being a blueberry in your cherries.
Haunting me like the way I believe in you—like faeries little girls believe in.
Tell me since this world is smaller now that you’re out, tell me about how you’ve always gotta… be somewhere.
Tell me why your old snitchb*tch is reading words outta my mouth like she meant something other than the falloff.
We all fall, stop looking over your wall~flower.
You tell me about how I’m fluid, how I’m watersweet, and you’re knotted—kinked,
water seeps, rock runs deeper than demons.
“Looking at the church in the night sky,
And you wonder where is God in your night life?” —Sampha
We not keeping promises they’re not keeping us safe.
We are not. We are not. We not loving each other much
‘cause you believe in everyone else’s roulette,
You got too much absentness to ask the right questions
Let everybody love me so much; I’m so sad of running
We not having power talks you aren’t giving a fuckluck,
you were one luckyfuck; too many my luck
Throwing myself into the wallway would hurt less, guess again,
I’m one guessinnie, thank you for the mini that was a sweet move.
We not making any kind of reservations, I’m tired of second-guessing our forever
We not making any kind of tomorrow’s tomorrows tumbles in bumbles
Baby your honey is too sweet for the web you’re the busiest bee you spun up, it's numbing.
We not enjoying any part of this hollow life ‘cause so much of it is spent trying to get somewhere we don’t have.
Ready, set, not.
“Life is precious, we found out, we found out.” —Kanye
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