I lost you last night,
the same night I let myself shamelessly
break down between everyone around me
and the man that raised me,
the night I put a hole through my favorite
J Cole poster, how his face had now lacked
sincerity, comfort. The wicker basket
trashcan stuck shrouds in my feet.
I don’t know what it is but I
need to get out of here,
away from the damage, the wall
of a voice on the end of the phone line
still glued to my ear.
I need to get out of here;
sink into leather seats
and my brother and sisters laughs,
find comfort in inhale
We parked in the cul-de-sac with the lights off,
music off, windows down. I listened
to the peepers keeping themselves warm.
How they understood me.