9:16pm. At home. I am in bed right now. Probably not for the night, just for the now. I am enjoying the quiet. Allowing myself to be present to the space. The light above my head shining through the ceiling fan. The bag of laundry I pulled out of the closet I promise to do tomorrow. The bed and covers and carpet and nightstands. The chest of drawers and cobalt blue globe with Polynesia facing me. My books and CDs. My side, his side.
I have a side. A space reserved for me. Even when I am not here, I am here. He has a side. A side empty when he leaves for work, for visit, for out, for whatever. His books and notes and neatly stacked things. Our things. Our sides. Together.
Black ass poems. Black ass stories. Black ass art. Black ass life. Black ass love. Black ass hate. Black ass parenting. Black ass depression. Black ass mania. And other stuff too.
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