More Letters from the Attic: Lost Love Letters

“But could youth last, and love still breed,/ had joys no date, nor age no need,/ then these delights my mind might move/to live with thee, and be thy love.” –excerpt from “The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd”

Dear Love,

Will you be my rida? Cause I want to be your down ass for whatever nigga.

It cannot be said enough that the intangibles we share are not up for sale

and will not be negotiated like the terms of a business contract. We started off

with grams of interest but end with kilos of endearment; that is love from a

hustler’s standpoint. So, please, if you don’t mind, share this misunderstood

life with me as we conquer the ghetto dream of this hood love.

Signed,

the Mysterious Poet Dude

Dear Mysterious,

I read your words and then I read them again.

I read them so much they became ingrained

on my heart. Thoughts, once elusive, began to rain

and I knew I had to reach out now, or I’d miss

the opportunity to express them again.

My first thought was this: If only I had a dime

for every time I’ve wanted to offer a penny

for your thoughts so I could read your mind

to see if you are still truly mine or if you’re just

biding your time, trying to find the right words

to tell me you can never be mine. Not fully.

But I’ll address the question you asked me:

I’ve always been your day one rider, slid right in beside you,

the day our eyes met and I knew I had to have you, cuz I felt

the world within me shift. I knew right then and there

I’d always be the one to keep the scales balanced,

matching your love kilo for kilo and pound for pound, and that gram of

interest that was planted the day I met you, it grew

like I knew it would, transforming into full-fledged

desire to be with you But we both know time stops for

no one and while I’m still your rider, my ride or die I have to ask

where are you? I’ve got your back and on that you can always

depend. So, yes, I’ll be your rider and your rida.

In the height of our existence as one, I felt you as my strength

while I desired nothing more than to be your wisdom;

I crossed the bridge we constructed with our words

and I’ve been standing there waiting

for you to cross the bridge too. Everybody knows that in the ghetto

if you find true love, you better hold on cause the ghetto

is a man-eat-man world. And no one, I mean no one,

wants to get caught trying to fight, alone.

So, if you’re still wondering if I’ll ride for you

Well, let me ask you, is it not true

that if you need an ear, I offer two, and

if you need a hand to hold, I offer those too,

if you need a shoulder on which to lean, I

give those too; there’s nothing I withhold from you.

When you need my love to hold you down,

I climb on top and hold onto your crown

so it won’t slip as we fight in these streets, and

you’ll remember you’re a King and I’m your Queen,

and we’re still trying to maintain a love that others take offense to,

even though they see the fruit and wish they could

enjoy the sweet nectar that our fruit brings. In their eyes

we see them realize that what we have is true and that’s why

we have to keep fighting to hold onto each other.

We both know that our shared vision is

unshakeable, it’s true, but it depends on two people

riding for two. That means you’ll be down for me

like you know I’m down for you. When you look back

over your shoulder, you’ll see I’ll always be there.

And that’s one promise you never have to ask if it’s true.

Signed,

Love

Dear Love,

Retract the thought of a love lost and embrace the thought

of a love forever. The succor of a meal that doesn’t have to

be forced on the receiver.

Sit before a plate that will always be full, and, you, the satiated patron

will keep seeking more, knowing that ours is a plate that remains full

of the love we have for each other. Always be full of the respect we

have for one another. And always be full of the value you place on

one another.

We can continue to cruise the wide open space, hoping for a street

light to appear or we can realize we don’t need a light to let us know

it’s safe to fall in love, which we’ve already done. So, when we see the freeway

to our evolution appear, we know the fuel of our eternal transportation will

never disappear. We’ll never be sitting on empty because the fuel is unceasing

like our love for each other: there is no end.

Signed,

the Mysterious Poet Dude

Peace & Love,

Rosalind