ADORE, c.springer

2

On My Mind

I think of our short encounter, my heart skips a beat

I think of how your lips raise in a smile, my hearts skips three beats

I think how you got your grace and style

I like how you follow the rhythm of my hips when we dance 

I like how firm the step of your feet is

I like how the image of you blurs in my head

I subside my visions of you

Who can I run to by xscape whisks you to sleep as you almost feel the song inside your head, like the music is in you. A sick feeling pulls over your body, followed by a low grumble. "Shit,"  you murmur with irritation. You look up to the ceiling, contemplating the actuality of your life as of this very second.

You lay on your stomach, stretched out on the living room couch, a thick blanket on top of you, you turn your head, facing the tv. You watch as Bernie Mac chases Jordan for something. Laughing you feel a really sentimental emotion, which leads you to your decision. 

You shower, and trail around your closet looking for the perfect fit. 

You pull on an olive green hoodie, it has a small grey heart embroidered onto the chest. You put on grey joggers, slip on some grey socks, right over your white painted toes and gold toe rings. Lastly, placing on your pine green jordan 3's. Clean, crisp, first wear. You stylin' right now.

You take a look in the mirror, your eyes trace down your figure, love to love the curves. 

You make your way out of your apartment building, your feet step subtly, though your presence is far too strong and loud, like the stomps of those before you. 

You look outside taking in the fresh air, the cement is a wet grey, stained by the rain from the night before. The breeze is cool, your hair is in knotless braids, down to your butt, the back are dark purple and few in the front are of a brown color just a tad lighter than the ones colored to match your natural hair. 

Your face touched by the sky's kiss, your lash extensions curl upward, they meet with your lower bottom lash line with every slow blink. You mix your soft lips together, the gloss you applied causes them to stick while it slides, getting full coverage of your plump round lips. Your skin glowing just perfectly, with a sweet dewy look.

The gold jewelry hanging to your chest, bouncing against you as you walk so beautifully. Your gold hoops feel the swing of your braids, lifting your hand to open the door to the den, your decorated fingers grasp the handle.

Your gold rings fight to be seen, all glowing against your skin. The many bracelets laying along your wrist compliment them gracefully. 

The music not too different from the taste of your own fills your ears as you enter. Fall In love by Slum Village buzzed through the speakers, the chatters of people around you warming to the soul.

The brown aura blends sweetly with the fruitful aroma. You glance around before feeling a familiar hand touch just above your elbow. "Meena!" You smile softly towards the young-looking-older lady. She owns The Den, she's like everyone's aunt and big sister and friend and cousin, and well a little bit of everyone around there's everything. 

The crystal rings wrapped around nearly every finger except her left hand ring finger wrap around your hand as she swifts it up shaking it in her warm welcome. "Ain't seen you in nothing but a minute," see when she says this you think, oh maybe I do come often- but, no she's referring to your usual lack of presence by saying the exact opposite.