I shared a moment with a woman the other day. She reminded me of you Cynthia. She complimented me on my tote bag of “The Great Gatsby” and she got a dreamy look on her face when she said, “F. Scott Fitzgerald, he’s just…” and I almost felt like she was transported back to her youthful days in the 50’s and wanted to say something along the lines of, “He’s just the most!”. I almost finished the line for her. But that dreamy look, it reminded me of you. And I didn’t want to let her to go. I almost reached out for her, for you. Because I keep wanting to have one last moment with you. One last conversation about nothing but about everything at the same time. I need one last encouragement that I have it in me. It was like you could really see inside of me, like you could see it there. Like it was am ember, burning, glowing. I just need something of you. An object, an ornament, something to wear around my neck so I feel like you’re with me. Because I really did feel like you were going to save my life.
Twitter Updates
- @areladurell The most messy of the messy. 20 hours ago
- RT @MissyElliott: Don’t beat yourself up because it seem like everyone else goals is happening & yours not. Your PATH IS DIFFERENT so just… 1 day ago
- RT @DewaynePerkins: So March we meet again you raggedy bitch. 1 day ago
- @MorganJerkins I still do this but most people don't even have a CD player anymore. 😭😭 I still do tapes too! Now a… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 2 days ago
- Last day of black history month. It's a good day to BUY BLACK (especially from black women) I'll start...… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 2 days ago