The day you walked out my front door, my heart
ripped out of my chest and followed you like
one of your moons, held steadfast by your gravity.
I never wanted you to leave.
They told me to move on, but I didn’t have the heart
and I told myself I could secretly hold onto you
until the day we would meet again
and I could rejoin my missing organ in your orbit.
That day came, and I looked you in the eyes
and you opened your mouth and I awaited the sounds of angel song
and you told me that my show was… dope.
Listen homie.
Look at the people around you.
The boy next to you has hopes and dreams you can’t even imagine
He sees in different colors.
The world is Beautiful. There is music and
movement all around us
The sky is mighty above our heads
You were the one who originally showed me this.
You told me you were an artist
I still have the box of sketches in the back of my closet
like all of the memories you left with me.
And now you mean to tell me that this beautiful life
these beautiful people are
dope?
Listen, you can smoke dope but nothing is dope you idiot it’s a noun.
You could call my show amazing magnificent incredible
fantastic mind blowing super great cool exciting phenomenal
or beautiful.
Because I know I’m a damn good singer.
But taking this incredible magnificent life and
qualifying it
demeaning it down to dope-
Thank you for my heart back.