The Whole Story

charlibal:

Love is …….. B E A U T I F U L

(via ricidosway)

3/30 Black as Depression

Black girl be depressed.
Black girl be sad.
Black girl need help.
Black girl don’t be ashamed of needing help.
Black girl get therapy.
Black girl be therapy.
Black girl don’t just be therapy, need therapy, get therapy.
Black girl be ugly when you don’t feel like being pretty.
Black girl be pretty when you don’t feel like being ugly.
Black girl be black.
Black girl don’t be in this alone.
Black girl be me. Black girl be you.
Black girl be us.
Black girl don’t be ashamed of your black soul.
Black girl ask for help when you need it.
Black girl suicide don’t cure depression.
Black girl reach out to your sisters.
Black girl we’re here for you when you need us.
Black girl curse the sun when the wake up call is too early
Black girl be shade.
Black girl come in more than one shade.
Black girl play a slave.
Black girl roll up the partition.
Black girl roll up the blunt.
Black girl be on welfare.
Black girl some of that is your sister’s money.
Black girl you deserve a break.
Black girl don’t break.
Black girl live in the ghetto.
Black girl be ghetto.
Black girl be natural.
Black girl be nappy.
Black girl be pressed or permed.
black girl smile wide like your big lips and low cheekbones are trying to fight.
Black girl fight.
Black girl tribal twerk.
Black girl work.
Black girl don’t work, tell them praying that you sons make it home is a full-time job.
Black girl suicide don’t cure depression
Black girl being a black girl is a job
Black girl, be black girl.
Black girl, be as black as your soul girl.
Black girl don’t fear your sadness.
Black girl don’t suppress your depression.
Black girl we’ve all lost something.
Black girl we wanna keep you.
Black girl i’m sorry.
Black girl I know you’re tired of apologies.
Black girl stay here.
Black girl
Black girl
Black girl be black girl
Black girl be as black as you feel girl.

mocad:

Photos from “Scratch the Page: T. Miller Takes the Mic” presented by insideOut Literary Arts Project.

Photos feature Writer-in-Residence Deonte Osayande,  Program Coordinator Norene Cashen, and the former #2 Indie Slam Poet in the World/Detroit Slam Grand Champ/Detroit’s very own T. Miller!

So tired of black women coming up missing. Equally sad to know that when the bodies are found lifeless, the majority of the time the blood is found on the hands of black men. Has our strength confused them? Is it our tough skin that makes them believe we can handle death? Are we no longer pretty, or submissive enough to deserve life? This pain needs answers.

carefullyreckless asked: Hey T! It's Michelle! C'est mon tumblr :)

and I’m here

therestlessintrovert asked: I have decided that I do not care if this is inappropriate. Are you single?

lol yes

1/30 Miami

There’s a woman in Miami
with the last two years of my life in her purse
but she never digs for me
and she once told me that I was in love with her
and I was
and I am
and sometimes I send her James Blake songs in the middle of the day
and sometimes she responds
and sometimes she doesn’t
and there are days when my heart is the size of a blue whales
and still she never walks through me
and my bed has been an open coffin since the morning she left
and it looks like the sun is keeping her alive
and it looks like the daughter of someone else is keeping her in love
and on my best days my pride is a prison
and I’m trapped inside my own fear
and I keep trying to tell myself that I’m not trapped but patient
and everyday I get closer to dying without her
and I tell every woman that I meet about her
and they all realize that she’s the reason I hold them like shelters
and they all come to understand that I want her to be home
and they all leave me
and I know that she’ll never leave her lover for me
and I know that she came to Detroit for a getaway car
and not love
and I know that when she kissed me in the middle of the airport that she was saying goodbye
and I know she wanted me to believe that she was coming back
and we both knew she wasn’t because she was going back
and I know that her bags were so much heavier when she left
and I know that I don’t know how to ask her to pick a prediction over present
and I know what heavy feels like
it feels like you wanted to be open for once
and you cut all of the bullshit
and you pulled out everything that was behind it
and you carefully placed it all in her purse
and she went home
and decided
to carry another bag

2/30 A haiku to the brother in the obituary. To my mother holding the obituary.

Obituary
she sleeps with yours at night still
like her newborn child

(Source: daftsosa, via ricidosway)

“my love was the perfect sentence and my ex-girlfriend was the typo that ruined it.”

—   Natasha T Miller (via theinfiniteheartbeat)

(Source: lindamkhizexo)