I feel like all I write about
is love—
or lack thereof.

But I mean—
what else am I supposed to write about
when everyone’s chasing after
this fictional feeling
that everybody talks about
when they “find the one”?

I don’t believe it.
I don’t believe it.

Now—
you gotta step back
and see how the other perceives it.

Is it a sneaky link situation?
Do you have to fall back
while they sit there
laughing?

Do you have to worry about other girls
other guys
while they sit here
ruining a vision of love
in your eyes?

Let’s be real—

This is what love is now.
We’ve normalized it.
It is toxic.
It is messy.

There is no real love.
It’s just lust.
There is no real love.
It’s just linking up.
There is no real love.
It’s just wanting to ****—
and saying whatever it takes
to get them to “pull up.”

But me?

I want that old-school love—
the kind where fights
don’t end in breaking up.

Even through the bad—
we’d stick together
because we knew
our love would protect us.

Any storm—
any bad weather—
if we could talk it out,
it would get better.

We built that foundation—
through worse
and through better.

I hate what they’ve done to love.
They made us believe
anybody who comes through
with a charming smile—
that’s where the love would be.

But this ain’t no fairytale.
This is real.

I want that old-school Black love—
cocoa-butter-warm,
nice-smelling love,
just-dancing-in-the-living-room-as-the-sky-rains kind of love.

There’s no connection—
just convenience.

Love is just
a monetary thing.

And me?
I’m still looking for that
old-school love
that makes that one person feel like home—
not a random pit stop
chasing the high of lust.

I’ll keep believing
in that love—
because even if the world
forgot how to give it—
I won’t