Empty

Even though I’m full of you I still feel empty.

This body is just a shell.

There is nothing to fill my heart…therefore it is useless.

I want to be filled, full–wanting nothing.

Full of love from one heart to another.

Love so close together that they overlap to become ONE,

so that there is no division, no line of demarcation, just sheer unadulterated…..

love.

Erykah Badu No Love

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Love.

I have more than enough reasons to hate love, not want to be in love, not have

nothing to do with love but it’s just the opposite. I’m excited about love, excited

about falling in love, excited about feeling feelings I’ve never felt. I’m excited

about life, excited to be living, excited about what life has to offer. I’m ready for

love. Real love. Unconditional love. Love without limits-Love. Love that lasts

forever-Love. Love that extends beyond this world-Love. Love that never fails-

Love.

True Beauties Don’t Need Makeup

That’s what my mama always told me.

And yet, I watched her put on makeup every day.

But Mama didn’t need it.

Nothing on Mama needed to be changed.

It hurt that she didn’t agree with me.

 

She sat in her antique all white Victorian chair,

erect and proper as ever.

First the foundation which she applied three times over,

then the rose blush that she rubbed in small circles over her high cheekbones,

Cherry Wine eye shadow swiped over her eyelids,

next, five coats of black mascara separated her lashes,

and she finished the process with Plum lipstick.

Her black elbow length hair sat in a tight bun at the nape of her neck;

perfect and rigid as she.

 

Mama seemed to grow more weary as the days passed

by the ceremonious makeup routine.

I soon despised the substance that washed her self-esteem down the drain every day,

so I decided to teach them a lesson.

One by one I gave them all a new purpose.

I used the liquid foundation in my mud pies,

the powder blush I sprinkled on my play-dough cupcakes,

the eye shadow worked wonders in my pony picture;

I dipped a cotton swab in the mascara

and designed a dainty polka-dotted dress for my Barbie doll.

“Silly girl, do you know what you’ve done?!”

“You are beautiful Mama.

No cuts, bruises or scars on your face. What do you have to cover?”

She held me close and exhaled.

“The scars inside.”