Off The Charts

by Zee Reneé

With Jersei in my arms, I realized that kisses weren’t always physical. Sometimes they were the words that filled the unmarked holes within your soul.

The world teaches you everything, how to hide, how to fuck, how to get over, but niggas don’t tell you how to deal with the tear-stained pillow or that ache in your chest.

“I wanna put a baby in you,” I blurted. Vayce choked on his drink. “Yo, J what the fuck is wrong with you?” “So you wouldn’t carry my baby?” I looked at him in disbelief while he laughed his ass off. “You better be glad niggas can’t get pregnant. We’d have a slew of stair steppers. With yo’ fine ass. Six weeks who? Boy lay yo’ ass down and pull them Hanes to the side.”