I Adorn my walls

I Adorn my walls

I adorn my walls with the words of Maya Angelou
Of a great woman who’s done great things
And created great impact

A great woman
Who’s greatness
inspired the world
A great woman
Who greatly
Inspires me

I adorn my walls with the words of Maya Angelou
I stick them high above my bed
So in the morning when I rise
I may rise to the height of the standards she left behind

I adorn my walls with the words of Maya Angelou
And as I reach my arm out
To pin those words to the wall
I am again reminded of the love left in them
The love that reached millions
Touched hearts
And left hope where none was

I adorn my walls with the words of Maya Angelou
Not only are they beautiful
Not only are they decorative
But unlike most things
Which carry beauty and hold little substance
They feed a little life
Back into my little world

A large woman
With large hands
Large hands
Just like mine
And large feet
Just like mine
And a large voice
That could bellow a large laugh
Just like mine

Took all of her largeness
And lived her life out as greatly
As a large woman could

She picked up her large foot
And stomped a great big dent into the world’s side
A dent so large
That when she removed both her feet from the crusted top layer of the earth
The whole world
Took notice
Of the absence

She took her largeness
And saw it as advantageous
Long arms could hold more people
In tighter embraces
A large graceful foot
Could dominate a dance floor
A loud voice could beckon people over
From much further
And a large laugh could bring joy
To the farthest corners of the earth

She took her largeness
And made largeness synonymous for greatness
She became the great woman
Great women wanted to be
Whom great women wanted to be close to
Whom great women wanted to be noticed by

She had Oprah Winfrey crying at her funeral
That great woman cried
For the woman she wished was her mother

For the woman who loved deeply
And strongly
Without hesitation
And unbridled by half baked judgements

For the woman who spoke about it
Who sang about it
Who danced about it
Who wrote all about it
All in permanent ink

So I adorn my walls with the words of Maya Angelou
I put them above my bed
Right above the head of it
So maybe while I’m sleeping
Those words that leak greatness
Will drift sweetly
Into my dreams
And just a little bit of that great largeness
Might seep
oh so subtly
into me

It’s not love

I see this sparkle in your face
Hearing your voice
makes me excited
If I feel anxious
I lean closer
To you arm
But I idolize things
I collect hope from dreams
And I’m certain
My mind
has taken me
this far

You told me “never” once
You promised me forever
You took an oath
And you swore
to God
But that I’ve heard before
It still sounds ever lovely
When promises turn
To tear you

I don’t trust my eyes
When they tell me
you look better than you did
All those times
I saw you
They try to hint at my feeling
Giving legitimate reasons
As to why
They are things
I shouldn’t ignore

I held your arm
In my hands
I didn’t need you to stand
I was capable
Of walking
To my door
But it seemed
Kinda nice
It was weird but polite
I was self-conscious
But I’d been there

I don’t see you
as special
You’re not the greatest fellow
Not the greatest person
I’ve ever
Yet met
You’re not really
The smartest
But you love like an artist
And somehow
That’s hard to

This is not
But feels rather indecent
The way I dream
Love into
My heart
My mind’s all irrational
And seems to want passion towards
Anyone close enough
To leave it

I thought I was in love once
But I can’t say that that’s true
Does love feel
Like swallowing
Great shards
Of ice?
Or is that just the end?
Like being hurt
By your best friend
It was perfect
Before all the sugar
Was traded
For spice

I don’t know you
Well enough to love you
Despite what
My common tendencies
Would like
To think
But I’m growing rather fond
And that scares me beyond
All the past fears
I’ve gone over
With my shrink

When I Think of a Woman

When I Think of a Woman

What do you think of?
When you think of a woman?

I think of big golden hoop earrings
I think of pointy high heeled shoes
I think of turkeys on Thanksgiving
And cooking for big families

I think of my mama
And her clean simple beauty
And the way her teeth were always so white and shiny
That her smile seemed to reflect my face right back at me

I think of red lipstick
And red lip stick kisses
That she’d leave on my face
And I’d cry if someone smudged it

I think of my mama
who birthed a loyal child
A child who used to wait in bed all morning
For no one but her mama to pick her up and say hello

When I think of a woman
I think of beautiful things
But I think of beautiful things that I don’t wanna be

When I think of a woman
I think of you,

But I don’t wanna be you mama

And I know it’s weird because of how much you know I love you
But I don’t wanna be you mama

I don’t wanna walk in your shoes
Even if we are the same size
Because frankly
Mama, They’re uncomfortable
They’re high
and the toes are all pointy
Like some evil little man glued all your toes together
And shaved them down to a single point
I guess he wanted you to always have to lean on him to walk
I guess he didn’t want you to be able to walk away with your pretty face
But you learned to love to walk in those shoes, mama
And you took those pointy shoes and walked across runways
And eventually straight out that little man’s door
and then
he got stuck with me
Because mama I’d be damned anyway
if I try to walk away in something like that

And your walk
was so beautiful, mama
It was just like a woman’s walk should be

But I don’t wanna be you mama

When I think of a woman
A woman like you
I think of red lipstick kisses
But red lipstick kisses gross me out mama!
The red stains your clothes
And it’s all sticky
And you’ve gotta be careful of what you lean your face up against
I like my lips the way they are mama
I like the pink
I like The plumpness you see with the refraction of the light
I like the way my lips tell me if I need to drink more water that day
Mama… you know I get dehydrated!
I like my lips the way they are mama

But your red lips are beautiful
Just like a woman

When I think of a woman
A woman like you, mama
I think of big golden hoop earrings
But mama I like big hoops better in my golden memory than my ears
You know I’d like to rock em like you in the 80’s
But mama you can’t lay down to take a nap without those things getting snagged on something
And mama I’ve got sensitive ears!
You know that about me mama!

But they’re beautiful mama…
Just like you
They’re beautiful
Just like a woman…

And when I think of a woman, mama
A woman like you
I think of big Thanksgiving dinners
And I think of a pretty woman
Cooking for her man and their family
And her whole family bragging about her skills to all their friends
But I wanna man to cook for me, mama
I wanna come home from a really long work day
And see him slaving over the stove looking all spicy
I’ll have enough money for that mama
I’ll have enough money to put him in speedos erryday
And you can come over and watch, mama
If you wanna
There’ll be plenty of room at the table for you too

When I think of a woman
I think of you, mama
And no
I don’t wanna be a woman like you, mama
But that doesn’t mean I don’t like being a woman

Cuz I like the way I walk mama
I think it looks cool
It’s not elegant and sharp like you down a runway
but it’s not like people don’t stare when I walk by
And my walk
My walk is a walk of a woman

And I like my lips mama
Just the way they are
Even without red lipstick I think my kisses are just fine
And they
They are the kisses of a woman

And I like my earrings snag free
And I like em silver instead of gold
Cuz silver goes with everything and I don’t have to change them every time I change clothes
And they
Are on the ears of a woman

And I like my men in the kitchen
So I can do more work
But that woman sitting down watching
She’s still a woman

And I like my feet in sneakers
Because mama I like being able to run away
You ain’t ever know who’s gonna sneak up on you these days mama
People are crazy, mama
I like my sneakers
And these sneakers belong to a woman

So no
I don’t wanna be you mama
As beautiful and lovely and wonderful as you are
But no
That doesn’t make me less of a woman

These Days (An Excerpt)

I can almost feel you, you know.
The way I imagine you. I can almost feel your breath on my face as you lie down next to me, facing me. Mostly. Because every so often you notice me looking at you. You notice how the corners of my mouth seem permanently stuck into a high place, a happy place, a place of peace. Maybe for that moment you can feel how light my heart feels. So light I feel like I’m floating. Maybe you know that the feeling spreads from whatever part of me was touching you, so lightly. So lightly my skin didn’t feel it, but heavy enough that my soul caught on. You must notice, because you turn your face into my blanket. You hide yourself in it and let it catch your smile. I can feel your warmth emanate from that place. I can feel you loving me and it makes me float a little higher.
I can almost feel your hand right there. Beside mine. I’ve been afraid to reach for it because if I really lift my hand to touch it… I may remember it’s all in my mind. But if I stay still. If I close my eyes and watch you smile into my blanket, I can feel your hand in mine. I feel my middle finger stroke your index, stroke it just enough to light my soul on fire. And there I am burning, smiling, floating… All within the darkness of my eyelids.

And I can’t move. Because in that moment I’m in love. And I can’t speak. Because if I talk, you’ll disappear. And I can’t go live. Because I can’t go back to feeling less alive.

Occasionally, I lose myself in my mind. On empty days, days left to neglecting necessity, I sometimes get caught in a somewhat meditative space that seems more real than reality. On these days I can’t decide if I see myself more clearly, or if I momentarily lost focus. I wonder if I’m caught in a dream, hoping for things I don’t truly believe in, and waiting for things I know I should move on without.
My mind knows what I should be getting on with; the long list of “to-dos” on these days I ignore. On these days, I prefer my quiet fantasies; the list of things I want but decide I don’t need. It’s funny, because these days are the only days where I question their rank of importance. Those days I much rather stay asleep.

Same Spot

imageI keep finding myself in the same damn spot

And I know what you’re going to tell me

You’re gonna say “Well, damn Faithe stop running in circles”

Sitting over there trying to be a smart ass

But I’m not!

It’s been like running on a treadmill

I’ve kept my eyes and my body facing one direction my whole life

Sprinting my ass off, pretty literally

Til the people in the back give me that one eyebrowed look that says “Damn, girl…”

And I relish in the fact that I can see them in the window

But even though I like it sometimes, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still in the same damn spot

Thinking the same damn things

Telling the same damn stories

Feeling the same damn pain

The same pain that keeps me coming back to that same damn treadmill

And keeps me in this same damn spot

And I don’t wanna stay in one place all my life

I wanna move!

Be somewhere else!

Feel other things!

Nice things…

I wanna connect with people!

But the only way I can really connect with you is to be the Me

That I told you I’d be from the beginning

But that me hurts

And it’s that

Hurting kinda hurt that, you know, hurts

Your soul

Which is way more painful than pain in your body

So I still try to change

I keep trying to be someone else

Trying to hide the fact that I’ve always been myself

And that’s never been who I’ve wanted

And when it doesn’t work

Because it never works

I run that shit off

I run off the pain of failure

And the pain of rejection

And the pain of being a person surrounded by people

And I soak it

I drench it

I drown it

In the kinda pain that really rounds out your ass…

So I can get some sorta satisfaction somewhere

Ha. I guess in a way that’s me running in circles


From over here

I’ve been watching you

From over here

Not close enough to satisfy me

But not far away enough to truly disappoint

I’m just nearsighted enough to see the fuzzy outline of your figure

And I’ve seen you use those fuzzy arms to grasp at moments

And capture them within your arms quickly

A child with your new favorite blanket you hold them close to your heart

So close they can hear your heart beating

But not as close as you’d like them

Not close enough to change your heart’s rhythm

Not close enough to change you.

And you squeeze them so tightly that the life leaks right out of them

You wear those poor things out until they’re hardly recognizable

And your face drops again as you drop that rag to the ground

And you realize the joy of the moment has left

And you are back where you were

In the present

In the future

In the now

And I keep watching you as you desperately try to hold on to those moments

Moments that slip through your fingers like sand in your fists…

And I wonder why you are so desperate for them

Why you don’t know that you’re worth a lifetime

A lifetime of happiness

A lifetime of success

And a lifetime of love that a mere moment will never give you

When you hold such high expectations for them

And I could shout it out to you from where I’m sitting

But you’ve always been selective in your hearing…

Broken Pieces

I think I’m attracted to broken people

Broken pieces scattered by fate

Ignored and left in supplication

In desperate need to be repurposed

I am in love with these broken pieces

And the possibilities they contain

If loved in just the right magnitude

If given just the right amount of effort

Yeah, I’m in love with those broken pieces

And the artful jagged nature of their edges

That can be smoothed or left alone

A tribute to their inherent grace

I am so in love with broken pieces I count their imperfections so as to properly admire their beauty

Their beauty incandescent

Yet, somehow hidden by the cruelty of circumstance

Broken pieces
Broken people

I cling to them as if magnetized

I find them in crowds as if guided by compass

And they find me too

Neither of us with conscious intentions

Neither of us expecting favorable outcomes

We associate and contemplate our existence together

We contemplate the meanings of our lives

We ponder the words people have told us

And their mantras of association

They say:

Be around people you want to be

And those words resonate with us

Be around people you want to be

And the sound rings loudly in our ears

Because do the people we want to be

want to be us?

To be near us and broken pieces?

To be near us and our jagged edges?

And it wouldn’t matter for me anyway

See, I’m so attracted to broken people

I am so in love with broken pieces

The artist never discards of possibility

The lover in me never neglects need

My need

My need to be affected as well as effective

To be a stone washed over by a sea of broken pieces

To be in a sea of broken pieces washing over a stone

Smoothing over its rough surface

Creating a safe space for it to mold itself

Because I have been buffed

I have been burnished

I have been smoothed

I have been polished and made ever better

And then I have been left

To contemplate it all

You see, the sea of broken pieces

The sea of broken people

My sea of broken pieces

My sea of broken people


That sea, that glistening sea

Doesn’t want to me

That sea of broken pieces

That sea of broken people

Want to be freed from their own brokenness

And I admire and I am so in love

With the nature of their being

And I admire and I am so in love

With the resilience of their hearts

Their hearts that continue beating

Despite being left in pieces

Their hearts that keep loving

Broken pieces like me

But I am not what those broken pieces so desperately want to be

I am not whole, or unblemished, or unscarred.

But I am in love with my own broken pieces

I am in love with the light reflecting off the shards

I am in love with the beauty broken people rarely see within themselves

And I am in love with their fervent need to be whole again

Whole again

Unlike my incandescent, glistening sea of broken pieces

Whole again

Unlike a buffed, burnished, and smoothly polished me

Three People



There are three people that I am
And one person that I wanna be
Trying to move forward
But I get lost in my autonomy
Enraptured by the thought
That I’m whomever I intend to be
Because there are three people that I am
And one person that I wanna be
I’m tryna be the girl who has an idea
Of who she’s tryna be
But there are three people that I am
And all of them are me
I am
A girl with much defiance
See on my friends and family I am forever reliant
But tell me who I ought to be and there’ll be no appliance
Because that’s the girl who knows
She knows that who she is
Isn’t what you know completely
She knows the stretches that her heart makes and the depth of her psyche
And she rather be who she knows and not who she ought to be
But seems to always wish that she thought a bit differently…
She is
But I am
I am always afraid
But the thought of being someone sets my mind ablaze
This girl can see her future, bright and beautiful, and quickly forming in the haze
And lined clearly in front of her are all the paths that she can take
She is the girl who’s perpetually caught in stay
Overwhelmed by possibility she much rather drown in the mundane
Than ever take her chances and still end up being plain
She has been that way since birth
She’s aware that she is someone
But not quite sure of what that’s worth
She is
But I am
I am logically capable and emotionally dependent
This girl’s head tells her to do one thing but then her heart makes her end it
Her heart forms an attachment and her head says to resend it
Constantly trying to distinguish the better from the right thing
She’s Incapable of discerning the exact enemy she’s fighting
From herself
They both seem to cause her problems
She tried to lead them both astray but on her way back they seemed to follow
And knowing that they’re always there make her worry about tomorrow…
But she is one
And I am three.
And none of them are exactly who I want to be.
Because I’m tryna be someone who knows who she’s tryna be
But it seems that I am all three
And all of them are me



The way you look at me today won’t be the way you look at me tomorrow.

The way you look at me tomorrow won’t be the way you look at me next week.

Consistency is not a word in your vocabulary.

Consistency is not a word that you know .

I blatantly try to be so much for you.

I hesitantly try to be so much less.



I try to love you
And you move from me
I try to love you
And you look at me
I’ve been in this space before
These hands have been yours
My fingers have touched your face
Just as lightly
As this
But you shrink at them now
You blink at them now
You take them as an obscene gesture
Unwanted by you
Affronted by you
And honestly quite confusing to me
I see I have done you a harm of sorts
And honestly my first resort
Would have been to apologize sincerely
But you make it so hard
You hold all the cards
And I am uncertain as to what game we’re playing
You seem to want me to chase you
Up and down until you
Decide I am worthy of your time
It seems you want to play a bit
But honestly I’m getting sick
Of the shear repetitive nature of this game
There are 5 months of the year where you talk me
5 months where you decide you ought to see
How I’m doing
That’s less than 50 percent.
And the rest of the year is spent
Waiting for you to turn around again
Your back is facing me now
And when it was new I used to frown
And slump and stare at the sky
But lately I’ve had to laugh
Because right now staring at your back
I am happier than I have ever been
But, hey. Let’s play these games
Yeah. I know. It’s insane
And ridiculous. Yeah, that’s true.
But I’ll play despite
Because try as I might
I still love you. And want to tell you how happy I’ve been.