Two Pieces by Nyla Sampson

Remembering

My body remembers your kiss
The curve of your lips
My tongue still tastes the honey at your hips
I Still feel the pressure of your hand as it slips
Between my eager thighs
Leading me to whimpers, sighs, and jungle cries.
Escaping time.

My body remembers the sting of the marks you left.
I Still feel the shivers in places where you scratched me like an alley cat and bit me like a fresh summer peach.
My very soul dripping down your chin.

I remember your skin.
It felt like Velvet against mine.
Like an ocean stone smoothed over time.
As our bodies intertwined I tried to find the line
Between yours and mine.

My body has become an altar
A shrine to all you are.
You’re stuck on me like a tattoo
I don’t get far without thinking of you
And I wonder:

Who do you look at now?
Who gets to know the joy and fear of that thick mahogany gaze?
And are they afraid?

Did they let their guard down?
Did they cave?
Were they brave enough to walk this road to pleasure you’ve paved?

Do they know that just on the other side, salvation?!
Asylum
Refuge
Freedom
Awaits them?

All from the feel of your fingers.
A feeling that lingers as I lay awake at night
Attempting to replicate the way you made my body take flight
But with no victory in sight
Cuz you can’t copy and paste The Divine.

For that one night you were mine.

And my body remembers.

Author’s Note: This poem is a spoken word piece. It’s meant to be read aloud, preferably on a day when your heart is full and you’ve had too much wine

___________________________________________

Missing

I found a letter you wrote me today.
And I missed you.
For the first time
In a long time.
I missed you.

I missed hot baths and quiet conversation.
I missed coming home to a kiss and a meal.
I missed Saturday mornings.
I missed who we were/
Before you decided who we were wasn’t enough.

But then-
In the quiet of the night
I remember.
I don’t miss the price I had to pay.
For baths.
For kisses.
For Saturday morning.

I don’t miss that I had to go missing-
So that you could find yourself.

Nyla Sampson is a Black, Queer theatre artist, poet, singer, and community organizer working through an intersectional womynist lens. Her passions are the page, the stage, and the People. You can follow her on Twitter and Instagram @NylaTheMusical.

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