just alyssa

Spoken Word Poem (click to listen)   Sometimes I wonder if you’d written your love down for me on paper… Would we have the same handwriting? Would we spell it the same? Loop our “L’s” into infinity symbols? Would your words bleed into mine? When I first met you love was as foreign as the Black Sea. It was kept in a junk drawer of emotions to describe things as tedious and minuscule as make-up or favorite foods. It didn’t capture moments the same way it did after meeting you. It didn’t have me tripping over sentences or blushing over compliments I never wanted in the first place. If you put your love on paper, where would the sentences end? Would it lead on into deep paragraphs or stagnate after only a few words. I don’t know how your love looks on paper or where it would ever lead, but I know how I spell it. I know where my love draws its lines and I know where it starts. When I put my love on paper it’s more than just a line. It’s more than syllable...

Racism is spreading like wildfire these days and personally I’d like to blame Donald Trump for helping spread the hate. Though we are all adults and we know the difference between right and wrong, so perhaps we should blame ourselves … Black Lives Matter was started in 2012 by three black women of the LGBT community. Patrisse Cullors, Opal Tometi, and Alicia Garza started this organization and movement after the wrongful death of Treyvon Martin. They were angered and hurt after yet another murder that didn’t make sense. It became a huge public spectacle that started riots and struck up fear in the black community. The point of the movement was to bring awareness to a big social issue. They were making their voices heard by saying, “hey, we matter…… too ”. In the U.S., African Americans make up more than 1 million of the 2.3 million people in the prison system. They are incarcerated at nearly 6 times the rate of whites. More than 58% of all prisoners are either African Americ...

Through the years I’ve started to hone in on who I am and what I hope to stand for or to be, and unfortunately all that self-discovery has made me realize that I’ve never been enough for anyone else. Now before you freak out and think I’m pouring into a sad sob story in hopes to gain pity, just listen because that’s not what this is about. This is all the reasons why I wasn’t meant to fall in love at 22, or 20 or 19 or 16 or any other age a significant boy came along.  I have spent years analyzing old relationships, crushes, and significant moments with the opposite sex and it has all lead me to the realization that not only was I not meant for those guys in particular, but that I wasn’t ready in general. In high school I never really saw the point of dating. Sure, it was fun to have a date to the prom and someone to hang out with on a Friday night, but that’s what friends were for, right? I didn’t really believe in the high school sweetheart dream because I knew that ...

I watched you as we left court, and as your tears continually fell, another piece of me shattered. Although this is the outcome I wanted; this is what I came in and fought for, it’s still a loss. I still have to be the one that goes to your children and explain to them that they won’t see you anymore. I have to watch your child scream and cry and feel the confusion of no longer having a “mother”. I have to spend months watching them unravel, missing you, asking their caregiver questions that they may not have the answers to. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the days when I didn’t fight for you. I’m sorry for the times when I was too tired to call you back. I’m sorry for the weeks when I was too stressed to explain things to you. I’m sorry that I ever made you think I didn’t care. I’m sorry when I grew impatient with you and cut you off while you spoke. I’m sorry for the days when the overwhelming-ness of my job made me difficult to talk to. I’m sorry for the times when...