Finger Snap Series Presents: A Poem.

cotton · candy · clouds


Looking back, I realize your radio silence had absolutely nothing to do with me.


Looking back, I realize the surprise pregnancy left me spinning.


& spinning.


& spinning.


Yours truly came undone like the metal hinges of a (chaotic) cotton candy machine.


If I’m honest, it was hard not to look @ you differently.


You saw the side of me most don’t see – judgmental, scorned Libra-rising.


Looking back, I realize the surprise pregnancy left me spinning.


& spinning.


& spinning.


You hit a romantic nerve over: rubbery eggs, cheesy grits, & plastic vinyl seats.


We swore we would record a spoken word album together; we had a name picked out & everything.


Was going to fund the project with our own $.


Looking back, I realize the surprise pregnancy left me spinning.


& spinning.


& spinning.


Do you remember the intimate eye contact we made @ Sally’s Beauty?


The pop of rubber bands, Blue Magic, and color in your chocolate cheeks.


You asked me to fix your dreads; and didn’t reply back to any of my texts for (the next) 40 weeks.


Looking back, I realize the surprise pregnancy left me spinning.


& spinning.


& spinning.


Told me you were expecting your 1st child; a boy; right before I was a boarding a plane to leave the country.


Like cotton candy, you make an appearance once a year in the streets.


Your baby’s mother was a (constant) reminder that I wasn’t the only one who could taste your sugar properties.


Like cotton candy, you make an appearance once a year in the streets.


I thought I was the only one who could make you happy.


(Psh, how naïve.)


Like cotton candy, you make an appearance once a year in the streets.


How could you ghost me when we used to talk about everything?


Like cotton candy, you make an appearance once a year in the streets.


Wasn’t even this shook when you told me you practice polyamory.


Like cotton candy, you make an appearance once a year in the streets.


I’m fully aware I lashed out in part b/c I wanted you to be my Around-The-Way Prince Charming.


Like cotton candy, you make an appearance once a year in the streets.


Didn’t help that I was suffering from a bad case of separation anxiety.


Like cotton candy, you make an appearance once a year in the streets.


For the longest time, my fragile ego was under the impression you owed me something.


Perhaps what I was looking for was: closure, a hug, or (even an) apology?


Words to describe how I felt: neurotic, @ a loss, & clingy.


Words to describe how you acted: aloof, tormented, & guilty.


In the end; it wasn’t a match b/c we were both wishy-washy.


And didn’t know how to communicate w/o being selfish, distant, or petty.


Did you paint the baby’s room: blue, yellow, or pink?


Heated emails caused the crystal molecules to melt.


Your ‘locs, aura, & charisma were made of velvet felt.


Heated emails caused the crystal molecules to melt.


Our stars crossed paths (1x) @ Orion’s Belt.


Heated emails caused the crystal molecules to melt.


Should we chalk it up to a bad hand of cosmic cards dealt?


Real talk - do (my) tears make you dissolve?


What I said hurt all 3 (innocent) parties involved.


Real talk - do (my) tears make you dissolve?


Ard; I was guilty of screening your calls.


Real talk – do (my) tears make you dissolve?


We spoke last month & it appears we’ve both healed, softened (around the edges), & evolved.


Real talk - do (my tears) make you dissolve?


Isn’t cotton candy supposed to be sweet?


Why do guys like you come to town, make me fall head over heels, & then leave?


Once upon a time, I wanted you to stretch me out like a circus freak.


Although your intention was never to lead me on, it was hard to ignore the pent-up chemistry.


Your cart wasn’t in the business of distributing sweet clouds of monogamy.


Isn’t cotton candy supposed to be sweet?


Should have known better b/c self-appointed isolation is how you process things.


The electronic letter I wrote you started with “forgive me, pls”.


You said you didn’t take the horrible pcs. (of art) I wrote about you personally.


Said you started going to therapy.


Isn’t cotton candy supposed to be sweet?


When you were gone, I started looking @ what other suitors were selling.


And began to make my own batch, serving sz., & recipe.


Funnel cake is as good a substitute as any.

Nayomi is a poet, flower child, & healer. She believes that the arts are a healing mechanism. Her work is mainly curated from an autobiographical standpoint. The themes she loves to explore in her pieces are: relationships, healing, grief, loss, sex, & mental health. Also, she uses writing to connect with her Ancestors, paying homage at every chance she gets. Currently, she is editing her memoir, “Pretty Bird”, for publication.

Check her out on Instagram and Facebook here!

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