No Holds Barred Poetry Writing Challenge: Day 9

It is like a scene from a movie.
He is on the other side of the coffee shop
by the window, drinking his latte—
pumpkin. I can see the red P
scribbled just above his finger.
He’s the only man I’ve ever seen
drink something pumpkin.
Is that why I fall in love
with him so quickly?
He stares out of the window
through the curtain of fallen
leaves gliding in the wind.
I write down what he’s wearing in my notepad—
blue cardigan, gray button down,
the color brings out the pink in his lips—
like bubble gum,
with a hint of pumpkin spice.
I write the scene:
He turns and sees me watching,
returns my stare with the intensity of his clear, blue eyes.
He takes a sip from his cup,
licks the whipped cream residue from his upper lip.
My heart flutters when he rises from his seat
I can feel my pulse in my throat—
it chokes me.
He’s closer now, the magnetic pull of his eyes
drives the movement of my pen—
calligraphic letters decorate the page with our love story.
I tilt my head,
ready myself for his seasoned lips
to blend with the caramel of my left cheek.
Suddenly, he breaks our connection,
tosses his empty cup into the trash can next to my table
and leaves the shop,
disappearing behind maelstrom of brown leaves,
ellipses following closely behind him.
I drop my pen.


This post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. The prompt: scene/seen

No Holds Barred Poetry Writing Challenge: Day 2

I’ve kissed more boys
than I can count
and loved less.

My feelings intensify and
fade like the seasons.
Do not mention marriage in the summer
and never children in the snow.
Laugh at my jokes and I’ll
pretend your confessions of
undying infatuation don’t amuse me.

My heart has belonged to one man only—
old enough to be my daddy.
He loved me roughly and
told me I’d be his when
I turn thirty.

So I wait for him,
continue kissing my boys
and stealing their hearts
to keep me company
until my daddy comes home.


This poem is also part of SoCS and JusJoJan


Coat Hanger

This post is part of SoCS. 


Three days later and I’m still not healed. Tasha says it’s just my period coming back, but that coat hanger really hurt, and when she pulled it out, I didn’t see no baby.

“That’s ‘cuz you too early,” Tasha had said. “You only five weeks. You can’t make no baby in five weeks.”

“How I know it’s gone then?”

“‘Cuz you bleedin’.”

On the fourth day, we walk to the CVS after school to buy some more maxi pads. The lady at the register smiles at me and tells me if I really want to feel like a woman, I should buy some tampons, but I still hurt between my legs, and a tampon could do more harm than good.

“Did you tell Deshawn it’s gone?” Tasha asks.

“Yea but I don’t think he wants me no more.”

Deshawn is older than me. He’s actually in high school. Tasha called him a pervert when she first met him. “What’s a junior want with an eighth grader, anyway?” she’d said,  but he just sang Age Ain’t Nothing But A Number and if R. Kelly can do it then so can he. He stopped calling when I told him I was pregnant.

On the fifth day I stay home from school. The pain has gotten worse, and my abdomen has gone numb. Tasha brings me my homework assignments after school. “I don’t think you did it right,” I tell her.

“I did it just how I see ’em do it in them eighties pimp movies my mama be watchin’.”

“Don’t all the girls end up in the hospital in those movies?”

“You gon tell your ma?”

“I can’t. She’ll kill me and call the cops on Deshawn.”

“You already dying. Plus Deshawn need to get locked up. He’s a creep. I heard he messin’ with LaTonya now. She’s younger than you!”

I feel a sharp pinch in my inside. I hold my stomach and moan.

“Yo mama a nurse. She can help.”

“No she can’t. If she cared, she would already know. We did it right in this room. Her bed on the other side of this wall. You gon tell me she never heard the head board? He was on top of me for at least 20 minutes slamming the headboard against the wall intentionally. And when he came, he yelled so loud Mrs. Nash’s porch light turned on. I just knew we was in trouble. My mama never moved. The next morning she made up my bed and acted like she ain’t even see the stains.”

“Maybe she didn’t.”

I pull my covers to my chin and roll over, turning my back to Tasha. “If it don’t heal, then I’m just gon be dead.”

“I’ll get you some of my mama’s pills and buy some more maxi pads,” Tasha says. I don’t hear her leave.