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Somebody’s Fool

Here we are— again.

Over and over again we prove

no matter the woman, the results

always conclude to the same.

When will we learn or have enough?

Giving everything, wholehearted love letters,

intimate moments with your family,

your body— and what you thought is beautiful.

Life’s a battle and what she showed me

never scared me— but what I gave did.

Picking up the pieces, fragments of the past,

and fighting, again, to be seen.

It’s easier to be and become invisible.

Why be somebody’s fool when you

can be yourself and alone—

So, there’s no money for clowns.

Just your foolishness and why

you stayed when you thought you

were safe, saved, and understood.

Why you again— why anyone?

And yet, here we are again.

After you’ve said “I love you”

and given what you could—

still you stand alone, and hopeful.

How exhausting.

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To Be Somebody’s Person

“There will be no more crying”

you loved and let it be—

No fighting or hassling for what could have

been— the light that has already covered you.

Haven’t you had enough to know

there is nothing left, or real.

There will be no more fighting,

or pursuits to understand.

Tussling with yourself to be appropriate

and available, at any moment’s notice.

Simply to be present—

asking for validation, and to be seen. Finally.

You are enough, alone.

She, and they, have already shown you.

What more could you have sought?

“What else is there to know?”

“And if she stayed, what would that show you?”

As streams pour down your eyes.

There was more fight behind the tears

than asking her to believe in you.

No more tears— at least from here on out.

You didn’t except it but it’s worth

the time spent, to know you

were holding someone else’s place.

It’s not what you thought

or what you expected— or real.

So no more fighting or tears.

Just tussles with yourself.

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Ripe Fruit

I can’t pick good fruit or women.

They all are some how unavailable

or never were in the position for something

new, something just theirs or the obvious—

something serious.

“Am I allowed to love you now?”

I know you used me,

as an emotional first responder.

I was your preference

but not your real choice.

I’ve been through this before.

Breathing and finally surviving—

desperate to be finally loved.

I’m alright with bartering my needs

for another’s wants, I’m enough too.

How it swallows easy when no one knows.

When you can remain invisible

until there’s a need;

and for a moment when you

fall weak to your own flesh, she’s still there.

It’s not as real as you think, or thought.

It’s more of a mental holiday—

Again, you’ve never met her circle

or so-called friends, or associates.

But you still remain open— how exhausting?

“Simply sad to see, how it digests easily.

You thought this was special— this time.

And again, it was just attention.

You won’t ever be a priority—

let that go down easily.”

You just want to be safe and saved, too.

“But when has that ever happened for you?”

It’s like waiting for fruit to ripe,

until the birds eat if off the vine—

and still you plant for every harvest.

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My favorite poem by my favorite poet. 💙

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Never goes old.

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I miss this kind of vulnerability, I synthetically gave.

Also, my body was everything back then. 😌😎

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Ari Lennox - whipped cream acoustic

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DOM KENNEDY - Deep Thought

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there is so much solace to be found when I come onto to tumblr and be reminded that this is where I want and need to be. there are so many genuine, beautiful and inspirational souls on here that I just want to be around all the time

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Forever my theme song. 🤎

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Here I am… on Tumblr, I’m Forrest… on Instagram I’m @FavoriteLibrarian.

This is still a space and place of peace and vulnerability, for me. So, there’s a glimpse at my 2022. 🤎

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Your Favorite Librarian.

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For more QPOC and Black Literature, go to my IG: @msforrestnogump or favoritelibrarian.com!