mourning noon and night

everyday.

i think about you everyday.

everyday.

i think about you every day.

when i laugh i feel like i've stolen the mirth straight from your mouth and the thought of it just rapes the joy from the sound.


i stare at my hands for hours and remember the last time i touched you. i was rubbing lotion into your hands, desperately trying to massage a message into your fingers.



hold on, granny



just hold on...



i look in the mirror and see you in the tilt of my eyes, the fullness of my lips, the lone dimple in my left cheek.

it's just not fucking ENOUGH.

shadows aren't enough. i don't wanna wait for your whispers on the wind anymore. they're not enough.

i don't wanna just remember you were here. it's NOT ENOUGH.

i don't wanna stare at pictures and think about how beautiful you WERE or how funny you WERE or think of you in any form of past tense.

i don't wanna watch law and order criminal intent and remember how much you hated the lead detective because he was a self-righteous know-it-all.

i don't wanna think about brooklyn and be reminded you're no longer there.

i don't wanna watch the mets knowing that in a brownstone in bedstuy you're not laying on your bed listening to the exact same game.

i don't wanna look at your phone number i still keep in my cell phone and know when i call it you won't pick up.

what i want

what i want

what i WANT

is for YOU to be HERE.

laughing at me as i try to convince you the braves are gonna win the world series

telling me you ain't 'studdin' me after i crack on your mets

complaining about aunt cheryl while i roll my eyes and say to myself "damn, i can't have a conversation with you without cheryl all up in it..."

grinning wickedly at me after you beat me at a game of conquian, then saying "well some coons can, and some coons can't!" or "deal the cards, joe, my fingaz soe!"

calling me a punk cuz i won't go to the bathroom at night when i'm at your house cuz i'm afraid of the mice

what i want more than anything is to be held in your arms and squeezed until i can barely breathe. you're the only one who can give hugs like that.

i wish i had spent more time with you as an adult. it's like most of my memories of you come from when i was a kid. i didn't appreciate you enough when i grew up. i just assumed you would always be around. you were just too crafty to get caught up in dying. now i'm thinking back at how i played myself cuz you died and now i'm sitting here in front of a fucking computer monitor pouring my grief into a few keystrokes like this exercise is gonna be enough to pull the the pain from my heart. writing this entry ain't gonna take me back in time to when you were alive and i was smarter and knew to spend more time with you with the understanding that tomorrow ain't promised. all this entry is doing is making me feel more like a fucking idiot for letting all that time go by without calling you or visiting you. it's reminding me of how much i'm going to always miss you.

and how every day

every.FUCKING.DAY

i have to live with the empty feeling of our unfinished reel.

for right now...

for right now...

i don't want a man in:

'tween my legs

my mind

my bed


nothing personal and i ain't looking at the other team, but right now i'm too cynical about the whole love thang and it makes no sense to invite some cat into my life when the most i have to offer him is laughter in the face of his love.

part of me mourns those mornings of moans melting from the multiple bones, the sounds of sex slicing through the silence in rhythm with strokes of precision...

shit, i'm getting worked up just typing that...

anyway, part of me mourns that. in fact, a rather large percentage of me mourns that. being completely nikki, damn near 100% of me is protesting as i type this out.

unfortunately, the last few years have been one long goodbye to all the parts of me i thought i valued most. now i've gotta spend the next few months reclaiming those parts of me i'd so carelessly discarded, and i can't do that with a man around, even the casual sex ones. fact of the matter is, sex is no longer casual to me. i am no longer aiight with the one night fuck. even when i say to myself "i'm good with just fucking dude" there's that part of me saying "if only i could have more"

really, ain't too many women out there who are truly cool with just fucking. it's hard for us not to tell dude all we want is sex without whispering in our minds "for now" i don't know how folk can have sex over and over and not get emotionally caught up in it. i know I can't do it.

so no casual sex, which means no "friends with benefits" which means for right now, i'll be content with my battery-powered friend and my fingers...actually, i'll be faking that contentment, but you get the idea...