the smell of burning flesh (let shit burn part ii.)

I laid this man – and my feelings for him – at Your feet but his zombified body came crawling back to me. Now he’s in my home and my heart, reeking of past hurt and desires to be validated and seen as important, and won’t leave. 

 I’m pretty sure that I don’t want him to go away. Because I have to believe that anything is possible, right? I have to believe that I deserve what I think he has for me even if I have absolutely no proof that he does. I have to live comfortably inside of my own delusions. He’s the epitome of the high school crush I knew had no chance in hell with. He’s the fanfiction turned reality for me, sure. Fix my problems – the ones I have with myself. Make me all the way over. 

He shouldn’t have all of this power. I want this king overthrown. Make love a democratic process for once. 

I care too damn much. I know he cares about me just enough. It ain’t enough to make either of us jump out of our comfort zones to make anything happen. That’s why I’m so annoyed by this. I want to be over it, be cool with whatever this is. But I’m in a season where I want to disappear from the world I inhabit and live in a place where only I matter – my pleasures, my desires, my wants, my joy and my love matter. 

He’s not a caveat to those things. So he should exist where he is. But I don’t want him to be here. I want him gone. 

I really don’t want that. I just want him moved to his rightfully earned place in my heart. The only expectation is to care. To be present. To be overjoyed for – and with. 

I keep talking about misplaced feelings. Like, these feelings I have are in the wrong place. I should be directing this love, admiration, intrigue, sensuality, desire, lust, love towards myself. All I got right now is me. With all of the obstacles in my way, only I can lift  these feet and move. 

“You’re Always On My Mind” just came on. Stop me from reeling, please. 

I’m brutally honest about my feelings because God won’t deal with them unless I acknowledge their existence in full. Can’t lay a half-truth at the cross and expect for it to be washed clean and restored whole. I just don’t want to do something that will scare him away. I just want to look at him. I don’t want to lose the myriad of opportunities I have to look at him. Look at him for the person that he is. This breathing being with thoughts, fears. A damn human. In a world where Black men are seen as undeserving of that classification. Like robots only good for providing and protecting and nothing else. 

I just want to caress his head and tell him that everything is going to be okay. Because something tells me that he doesn’t have the safe spaces he desperately needs to receive what his mere personhood is owed. 

That’s love. Just keep me in a place of love, that’s all I ask. You told me that he’s my divine assignment, so You should. But I understand if You take this call away from me.  That’s a half-truth, so You haven’t. So what’s the lesson to be learned?