Monday Night FreeStyle

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I can't talk about her side part wrap
wore my hair that way for many years
and I can't talk about the way she changed the subject
when her neck became hot
it bothered her too much to speak
I've been accustomed to talking about her for years
how the color never changes
and she's always carrying around a faded handkerchief
dabbing at the moisture that tells her truth

And the way she dresses old-school
really didn't bother me
'til I found out I'm not easy to accept change
rather wear something clean
than new
and out of character

The cling-clank of the bangles bothered me
how she seemed to move them around
and emphasized her pointless-points
never knowing it was music to her ears
a distraction from what was happening around her
and comforted her

when i realized it was a mirror image
i suddenly began wheezing
though no asthma consumed my body
it hurt a little
okay
a lot
to realize
i'd taunted her
regularly
disregarded her feelings
daily
cruised on auto-pilot
while others captured their far-away dreams
and I sat
idly
minding her business


For some reason, Monday nights seem to be nights for reflection. I don't intend to make it so and don't know how long it will last. But I notice, Mondays speak to me in a way no other day does. I feel renewed, new, and inspired. Don't ask me where the inspiration comes from; I can't tell you. It just is. Like God; who just is. I had a client tell me she makes her day. And I guess every Monday, I'm just making mine... even if it is in the evening.

Stay peace.