Notebook

              As a writer, my notebook is my safe place. My notebook contains long pages, short stories, and testimonies. I write to unpack, I write to inspire, I write to relate to total strangers. As a writer, my notebook of many is my lover, my confidant, and my sanctuary. Because of the inner workings of my notebook I have been able to travel the country, touch mics that were passed to me by people with damn near the whole alphabet behind their name, grace stages in places I’ve only heard about or seen in pictures and climb out of depression.

              With love comes sacrifice. Though my notebook can’t cuddle with me, kiss me, or keep me warm, my notebook has slept in the bed with me, caught my tears, and has a special place to rest on my chest. I don’t know if I could sacrifice my notebook for a lover… here’s why.

Notebook

You took the place of my notebook on my chest after a long night.

Replaced my pen with your hand in a tight grip, didn’t wanna let you go.

I had to let you know,

In order for me to write I gotta live life.

I know I don't live right but when I live I get the chance to write.

Share the visions of sights seen,

Recognize familiar faces,

Channel feelings,

from that one long night I fell asleep with my notebook on my chest.

I couldn't stop thinking about you.

I couldn't put my pen down,

It's like we went for rounds,

Line after line,

Pull after pull,

Take me higher,

Closer to my dreams.

Oh, what I night to remember,

So why wouldn't I want to write it down?

You knew better than to fall in love with a poet,

 Why not try a Kardashian?

Then again,

I wouldn't sell our business for my dignity.

Don't nobody need to know how deep I be,

 Or know how deep you be in me.

See,

My notebook ain shit like a diary,

Sorry miss Keys.

My notebook is just that, a book full of notes.

Full of feelings and thoughts.

Full of secrets and lies I tell myself every night,

 "It's gonna be alright."

Pretty hurts but baby ugly situations are life threatening.

Ending it, all seemed so simple,

This notebook is a collection of suicide notes, regrets, and a few John Doe letters....

My notebook contains the ingredients to my soul, So when I ask,

 "You wanna hear something?"

I'm letting you taste just a sample of what I've been through.

That taste of me tastes better than victory, You kiss me back as if we could relate like we got history... together?

Do you believe in reincarnation?

I swear I've wrote about you before, I believe it was the second time I killed myself in another realm...

My notebook is a box of tissues, K.Michelle quotes, and a reminder of how not to commit culture appropriation.

A guide built by Timothy Wise & Jane Elliot to call out systemic racism & current times of segregation.

My notebook is close to my heart which is why it's always laying on my chest,

Where your head has lately been the place for rest.

Rough days,

Long nights,

Stressed,

In need of some sex,

Baby what made you so comfortable?

My notebook has mentioned names, dates, and times where I was told I just wasn't good enough, there's really no market for you, we've had enough of Miley Cyrus.

You really think we can market a poet with the human immunodeficiency virus?

The reason for my RIP is HIV,

Three letters took me to my final resting place,

MAN YALL DON'T HEAR ME....

It's like all I got it my notebook,

A glass of cheap wine,

And my poetry...

You can't possibly wanna get to know me.

I'm not perfect,

Somedays I'm hurting.

Not because of my past,

But because of growing pains.

I'm constantly trying to upgrade my vocabulary but keeping the message the same no matter how many times I grace a different stage.

Touch a different mic

I'm still the same ol Mike just seen in a different light, The spotlight.

That's the twinkle in my eyes you see,

My notebook got me there.

Where can you take me?

Michael Lamb