I had woken up this morning with a glimmer of hope as I thought of you.
So, I decided to write you a letter.
You may most likely not read this till the end, but as a songwriter said “atleast I can say that I’ve tried.” You remember Adele’s “Hello” don’t you?
I’m writing to tell you that I’m fine, the last time I visited you were caught up in your emotions to listen to me. So, I’m saying it again, I’m fine.
I’m writing to tell you that I visited our home, the one we bought together, when I won the lottery. And I took everything that belongs to me, it’s all yours now, take it. Since you decided to sell my favorite table to Mr John. Oh, I’m sorry, you thought I didn’t know?
I know it all. You thought that you could hide it from me. But I know, I know you never really loved me.
I know you thought my words were too simple, too mundane for your highly educated mind. You thought my actions were too naive, too timid for your bold and daring ego to accept.
I know you never liked my workouts at the gym. You wanted a rich, slim, white man.
I was a poor, black boy, with muscles.
At this point, I accept. I accept that you’ve moved on without me and I have to do the same.
I accept that my words will always be incoherent, my actions misconstrued as far as our relationship is concerned.
I accept that we are not in the same “class”. I accept that no matter how I much I feel, this love will never last.
If you read to this point, then maybe there is still some glimmer of hope for me, like the one I woke up with this morning.
If you read to this point then maybe, you’re having a rethink. Maybe you’re saying, “no Josh, this isn’t about race. It never was about class. I loved you for who you are, but I just grew up and I think it’s time you did too. Let’s go our separate ways.”
If you read to this point, then you must realize that for me, my skin has always been a center of attention. For me, status has always been a major player in who I can be with, where I can go, and what I can get.
If you read to this point, then you must be convinced that maybe I’m actually, really losing it, pouring out my heart to you, when you don’t really care. And “grow up”?
How does one “grow up” when one wants to remain the same?
How do I forget about you when, you’re “all that matters to me.”?
How do I look past my skin when it’s all that I’ve been made to see, and believe since I was a child?
How? If you have the answers, I await your letter. If you’ll ever have the luxury of time to write back.
From someone that once meant the world to you.
#love #poetry #class #classvsrace