To the woman
who complimented my locs and giggled with my mom,
who listened to me rave about supporting a small Black business
as she sold me a car with a dead battery.

To my first love poems,
begun preemptively when love wasn’t even in the vicinity,
finished prematurely for a man
who spent years studying me
but still couldn’t read my unhappiness.

To my own words
that only seem to truly manifest in times of duress, almost always too late
though I’ve tried to break that habit with practice

To the summer, the fall and the winter where every day was in competition to be my worst day

To my first heartbreak,
making music sound sweeter, lyrics clearer,
like I had been listening wrong this whole time.

To my first job at City Hall,
making me regret ever wanting
to give back to my hometown.

To Google Docs,
keeper of my first and second breakup letters—
after all the joy and understanding I’ve gained in libraries,
thank you for being the first time
I ever regretted learning how to read.

To the day I showed up to my 1/3 jobs
just to be called another warm body. 
What a privilege to hold a 6 figure Professional Bachelors Degree.

To the sky that refused to rain,
Oh sun that would not hide,
on the day I lost all my stability
and belief in love.

To that same sky,
now unable to stop snowing,
keeping me from working—
like these bills ever cared about the weather outside or inside 

But truly,
to the women in my life
who showed me love is steadfast—
who taught me everything I needed to know about it.

And though I discovered a new empty,
a new flavor of bitter resting on my smile,
they never let me lose all my soft parts 

So thank you