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Each Day

It gets easier to not see you

To not think of you

To wish away the smell of you

To not want to taste the sweetness of your lips

To not cry when I look at old photos of you

 

Each day it gets easier

To not want the love back

To escape the memories made

To not hold on to a love that has slipped away

 

Each day it gets easier

To remember that it is better to have almost tasted forever

than never have gotten close

 

Each day

Each day I sigh

Just one more day

One more hour

One more minute

and I will

be free

 

-Tikeetha Thomas ©

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page @mskeeinmd.

 

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Reblog: Domestic Violence is Purple

October is more than just pink shoes and pink footballs

It’s more than pink wrappers or pink scrubs it’s also about purple

Purple like the bruise on my momma’s face last night

Purple like my sister’s busted lip last week

 

I watch with tears in my eyes as many people ignore the signs

The cries for help

The sounds of fists flying, furniture breaking and babies crying

 

Go unheard because pink is prettier

Pink is silent and doesn’t scream to be heard

Pink is stealth and knows its place therefore it’s worthy for attention

Pink doesn’t seek to breakdown the truth about violence in our country

Pink happens as luck of the draw

 

Purple is what you choose when you stay with someone who you love

You think you can change them that you walk around with bruises

Broken bones, busted lips and no self-esteem praying that you can change

The broken one who beats you

 

But sometimes the purple is not flowing like blood on the carpet

Sometimes it comes in the form of “You’re a Fat Whore!”

Or “No one loves you!”

Words yelled in anger and you hold your head in shame

 

Covering up your purple abused heart because you love too much

You love someone who is incapable of loving you the way you deserve

You love because you need love in return; you crave it the way you give it

Only sometimes you wish this love would come to you in a way that doesn’t make you wish for death

In a pink casket

domestic-violence

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

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I Know Not

I know not the moment when my innocence was shattered. When my belief in man became so obscure that I thought death was better than life. I’m lying.

I remember.

I remember the day that you touched me as I slept. The moment that my innocence was shattered and I was left to pick up the pieces of the dirty word I had become. I know not why I had to endure that pain.

Maybe someone can explain.

I know not why I was assaulted by two boys on the school bus. Why they held me down and hunched me as I screamed out.  Kissing me. Holding my wrists. Why they chose to grind their adolescent penises in my crotch all to show me their manhood. I know not why no one came to my rescue. I screamed for help.

I remember.

Because I was just a girl. Faceless. I didn’t matter. They were popular. I was a nobody. Or that was how I was treated after the boys got in trouble. I was just an unknown. I asked for it. I know not how a child asks for boys to hold her down as they humped her and she screamed for help.

I know not why I was abandoned.

The isolation of classmates created such loneliness in my spirit that I understood that a nobody liked me must have deserved the unwanted attention as I was just a girl. A child. It didn’t matter. I don’t know why the expectation is that I wanted this.

I know not why I remember the day that my classmate raped me. I remember the feel of his penis pushing through me as I screamed and fought. The words “No one likes a tease” as I laid there crying and fighting for my spirit. I remember praying to God to die as he penetrated me relentlessly.

I know not why I saw me outside my body. I sang a song. A song of comfort. My mind was breaking apart. I imagined singing. I was a young girl. Maybe about 6 or 7. I sang This Little Light of Mine as he raped me. I know not why that song came to me.

I remember. I remember believing that God was protecting me. That walls were being built all around my mind to protect me from the pain. The pain was insurmountable. The memories would be too painful and I felt numb.

I died that day. Spiritually.

Each time I was touched. I lost a piece of me. But, I lived. I know not why.

Maybe it is because God had greater plans for my life than I could have ever imagined. I know not why.

God gave me a son to raise after boys and a man destroyed many parts of my youth. But, He must have a sense of humor right? Cause why would my womb carry a man?

I know not why.

I know not why the answers to many questions remain unclear. Like fragments and repressed memories they fight to come to light. Buried memories of things not spoken about.

But, I know that I have a purpose. I am better than my perpetrators. I am better than my past. I’m better than the man who tries to break me down by accusing me of emasculating my son when I am the one who brought forth light and named him Munch. I know not why.

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

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Reblog: I Wish

I love the scent of you

The scent of your skin invokes memories of

Happiness

When we were happy

When we loved without thought

When we laughed without regard

When we realized that in this bitter world

It was only us

That existed

 

But our existence has ended

We live in two separate worlds

Worlds of reality and fantasy

I want reality

You want fantasy

You tell me that your fantasy is my reality

And I realize that you may be right

And I wish I could turn back time

Rewind all the memories

Erase from my mind the scent of you

Then maybe I could stop

Just stop

Hating you

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

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Reblog: Ghost

I had a dream last night with my ghost.

We were running in a field of wildflowers.

Big

Open

Majestic

We were laughing and playing.

Like old times.

We paused.

Laid down in the wild flowers.

He held my hand while I cried.

I told him about my dreams that were unfilled

My hopes that had died

My bones that had been broken

My tears yet to fall

He smiled

He whispered five words

in my ear.

I was comforted by his presence.

Renewed by his encouragement.

I awoke knowing that I would get through

this life.

No matter what may come I know he meant it

when he whispered

“Never Stop Believing In You”

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

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Tired

I’m tired.

Weary.

My heart aches.

My mind is racing.

My patience is low.

I don’t want to fight no more.

Fighting is exhausting.

Fighting is distracting.

I can’t be distracted.

No time.

No time for games.

No time for distractions.

No time for the fake ones.

Time matters.

This hell I find myself in is one I chose.

The moment I said yes.

I chose it.

I have to remember it.

But, I have to remember that I can change my mind.

To recognize my choices and accept my fate.

To move beyond the bullshit and give my all

To the people that matter.

To the situations that require my attention.

To the friends that love without judgement.

To the family that supports without knowledge.

To the man who promises me a healthy love.

To the job that pays my salary.

To the readers who support my talent.

To the charitable organizations that benefit from my service.

To those that inspire.

To those that encourage.

To those that believe.

Believe in me.

Even when I don’t believe in myself.

I will close my eyes tonight.

No more tears.

With praise on my tongue

I will cry out…

Can you hear me Lord?

Can you hear the pain in my heart?

Can you see the destruction of those that seek to hurt me?

Can you see that I am your faithful servant Lord?

And I will give it to Him.

I will leave it on the altar.

I will say…

I trust you Lord.

I know that you’re watching.

Intercede Lord.

Intercede.

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

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I Am That Child

This is so deep and powerful. Please check it out…

 

I am that child who watched in horror as a policeman shot and killed my Father. I am that child gunned down at school; my last words were, “Help me! I don’t want to be here!” I am that child …

Source: I Am That Child

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He Likes

The way I kiss him.

The way I hold him.

The way that I explain difficult concepts.

The way that I spoil him.

The way that I believe in him.

The way that I scream his name.

The way that I tickle him.

He also likes…

The color of my lip gloss.

I smile.

It was bright red that day.

I replied, “It’s not gloss, but lipstick”

I bent over and kissed his perfect face

He had a pair of red lips on his face

I smiled

“I love you Munch”

“I love you too Mommy” he replied.

Kisses

He likes many things about me

My kisses are what he’ll remember

When he grows up and leaves me to find his own way

I will remember the day that I wore red lipstick

Not my usual lip gloss

And kissed the face of my sweet 8 year old angel

Red kisses

Red

The color of red

Blood is red

The stain on his shoes when he scrapped his knee

The blood gushing from his nose bleeds

I pray

That the color red

Will never be more than sweet kisses

On his face

Or scrapes when he falls

Or random inconvenient nose bleeds

I pray for no red sheets draped over his body

As he lays in the street

A victim

A child

My child

Who liked my red kisses

© Tikeetha Thomas

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And So It Begins

Today is going to be a L-O-N-G day. Munch’s project was due today. No exceptions. It was another rainy day in Maryland and I had to use a large trash bag to cover his project up so that it didn’t get wet. We worried over that this morning at 7 am. But, I’m happy to say that we completed it.
image

 

I told Munch to return the trash bag today so that we waste not want not. LOL. Don’t judge me. I ran outside to tell the before care driver to please make sure that Munch doesn’t leave his project in the van. It can’t be late or he will get a zero. He said okay. Kisses good-bye to my beautiful son and then I had to rush to get ready.

I had a follow-up doctor’s appointment on my right shoulder that’s been bothering me for the last month. I had the MRI’s done on Monday so I was anxious to find out what the heck is going on with me. The pain was subdued now because of the medications. I can actually go a whole 24 hours without a pain pill.

The results were inconclusive. No major damage. No spinal damage. No pinched nerves. He recommended therapy 2 times a week for the next 4 weeks and then follow-up again. Ugh! I then rushed to work in another rainy mess of a day.

I get to work and begin working and looked down to check my messages and found out that my son left his book bag in the van. The front office called me. Ugh! A call and a couple of text messages to the director of the center. He needs his book bag. His lunch and Tae Kwan Do uniform are in it. The director called back to say he would bring it. I called the school and said that Munch can eat at the cafeteria because I have money on his account.

Tonight is his presentation on Maya Angelou for the PTSA’s Black History Month Program. I’m excited. I wrote the speech yesterday and we worked on it last night. My best friend said, “Let me see it. She was your literary hero so the report is probably too long.” He cut it in half. Ugh! Munch will probably like it better.

I will let you know how it worked out tomorrow. Wish us luck!

 

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Dominique Christina

I discovered this beautiful poet on YouTube (Button Poetry) and when one of my favorite websites For Harriet wrote a piece about her in 2014. She is a poetry slam champion. She is part of my Black History where she tells Herstory about race in America. Her words are beautiful and painful at the same time. As a mother I cried when I heard her recite her poem “Emmet Till”.

Check out her video: