Times like this my mom would say the devil is busy..
I think he has too much time on his hands
He’s taking a break while I’m filling my head
with silly things that aren’t true
In the back of my mind and in the front of my mind is you
You, telling me, reminding me of our sacred ritual
I’m head over heels, heels over heads
always indulging in a mess, stuck, never moving all the way through
Loving the lust, the lies
Comforting hellos, harsh goodbyes,
you know I love me… some you
But you, and I, this back and forth, aint nothing new
In time itll all be gone, the ending of a song, but just wait for part 2
5115 Wissahickon Avenue
“Does Mr. Eric spend the night with your mom often? Is he living in the house with you?”
At the time I didn’t know that my mom’s best friend was questioning me only to stab her in the back. After all, I was only seven…who uses a child as a vehicle for evil and gossip?
When my mom went to work the next morning, her best friend, Mrs. Miami, handed her a copy of an email she drafted to the Philadelphia school district asking for her immediate removal as Principal from Bethune elementary.
The email contained personal information (information she squeezed from a 7 year old) about my mom’s relationship with an accused rapist.
I was only a child so of course I didn’t know what was going on.
I carried the burden of my mom losing her job which left us homeless for 4 years.
I carried that burden all by myself until I was old enough to realize that it was all bullshit and I forgave myself I told myself that I was only a child and I didn’t know what I was saying.
I didn’t know she was pressing me because she was jealous of my mom and her relationship.
I didn’t know at the time that Mr. Eric’s daughter, Rachelle, moved from Haiti to live with him and he was touching her.
I don’t know if everything was happening for a reason or if I was the worst erson in the world.
Mrs. Miami setting my mom up saved us in the long run.
Maybe if her business wasn’t put on blast, we wouldn’t have found out about his past, and his present.
Maybe my mom would’ve gotten married to the rapist.
But at the time all I know is that my mom lost her job and we didn’t have a place to live and it was all my fault.
“Why would you tell her those things?”
What did I tell?
I was only being honest.
The real question was…why is your friend questioning me about your panties?
It’s crazy how things work.
Devils are tricky.
They come to you sincere, as a friend, trusting, promissing, really beautiful lies…