Poetry / Sanaa & ...Somebody

Sanaa and Somebody

Stayed up late
last night
for the fifty
leventh time
watching
sanaa and omar
or sanaa and taye
or sanaa and somebody
paint on
a silver screen
canvas
a
vividly
brillant
portrayal
of black love
and even though
insomnia
keeps me
from getting too close
to the sandmans wares
and getting my necessary fix
the honest truth
is,
the thing
that keeps me from sleep
are my reoccuring
dreams
of you
my infinite flashbacks
where I do not
recall
how good it felt
to conduct
adult activities
doin the do that
grown folk do
but, more like
how it felt
to watch your face
light up
with that mega-watt smile
how it felt to have been
graced by your style
cataloging from the way
your lips
felt against my forehead
to the way you finger tips
grazed mine
in your bed
how it felt to hear you
ask me,
in that sensous
sexy
smooth
bass of yours
how my day was
and your attentive ear
eagerly awaited
my very wordy response
but most of all
I keep on remembering
how being with you
was the most comfortable
I have felt in a long
long
long
long time
and its a bittersweet pill to swallow
and its lodged in my throat
and my tears
and my pride
and my heart
are making it even harder
to take that gulp
how I get up sometimes
and have to stop myself the most
from saying your name
cuz I know…
..youre not here
damn, I hate missing you
the only thing worse than never
ever
meeting
you
would be
to never ever get over
this feeling
and to never ever
get a chance
to get it back again
Even if the worst case scenario
is being just your friend
I still gotta get over this
initial
this introductory period
where
everything I do and dont do
reminds me of you
Elders say, its better
to have love and lost
rather than
never have loved at all
I dont know what this is Im feeling
but
I can say
it would have been better
to never put myself
in a place
to feel like
I was always about to fall
I want to call this withdrawl
I need to call this an unsafe attachment
an attraction that of nothing
good can ultimately
happen
I need to convince myself
that this is not meant to be
I need to tell myself
over and over
again endlessly
that I do not feel what I think it is
I feel
that these butterflies in my stomach
and teenage giddiness
is not really real
I need to try to chock this up to
good sex
instead of holding my breath
to wonder whats going to
go on next
realizing the more I tell my close friends
about
how you are
and what it is you do
the more I have the risks
of falling in love with you
I admit I like you
Ive admitted that already
to your face
Im just so scared of going so
fast
that this
good thing will go to waste
so
the tv watches me
as I stare blankly
at the screen
watching sanaa and somebody
trying not to picture you and me.