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Friday, November 23, 2012

Mixing Ink - Volume 2


Mixing Ink: Volume 2
by Keith Kareem Williams

Is there anything in the world better than standing face-to-face with the only one you can’t replace? She’s the reason why anything before her feels like just a fling. That’s why she gets the kind of love of love that makes her whole body sing. She doesn’t just pretend to understand me and her mind is absent of make-believe thoughts that I didn’t plant there. Everything she feels is real because I made it clear when I whispered in her ear. With her at my side, the present is the foundation to build the future on the bones of our past. Everything is plain without the games.

She’s the one that tolerates my moods with empathy and never takes it personal when they shift. She’s the only one who knows how to give me space and no matter how long I take to find my way back, she waits.

We got tattooed in different places and at different times but we can’t deny that it seems like a sign the way her ink matches mine. When I wrap my arms around her my dragons set flame to her garden. When I lift her legs in the air my Koi fish swims in her water. She’s got tats that show for the rest of the world but there are some that are just for me to see. I don’t mention her much because we both cherish our privacy. We never broadcast what we have online with publicity stunts because truthfully, most that do are only really putting up fronts. She’s not possessive or jealous about the reader/writer interaction because it’s just a part of my life. She’s content to be the mistress because writing has always been my real wife.

My name is on every book cover so I think it’s safe to say that if I keep grinding away, one day millions of people will know it. The fly part is that she’s the only one that gets to moan it. I’ve always heard it said that love is pain so I suppose that I’d bleed HER if I opened up my veins. She reads me like others read my books. The things they find hidden in the ink SHE finds in my presence.

Against all odds, I found a flower that hadn’t been trampled…in Brooklyn. 

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