A way with words

My heart was slamming into my chest as I peeked at the crowd that night. Sweat flooded my palms, my stomach started to feel like a butterfly exhibit. Anxiety slowly creeped up on me. The reality of the situation began to set in, In a few moments I would be performing in front of 2,500 people. It felt like just yesterday when I was staring at a blank page with soft instrumentals

playing in the background. The weeks leading up to this year’s talent festival went by so quickly. I spotted a few friends of mine spread out in the first couple of rows. Before I knew it I was walking on stage, I could feel everyone staring lasers into me as I walked to the microphone. My heart was beating even heavier than before, my hands felt completely cold as I was adjusting the microphone stand.

“Hello everyone….My name is Oliver Jones, and today I will be performing a poem called “All Nighter’’ Time after time, you seem to find a way in. Hooked on the feel of your skin, enticed by your smile. You come like a thief in the night. Waiting hour by hour to strike. After we finish, I leave you there to lay. Each encounter is breathtaking. It would leave a mouth that runs a mile a minute with nothing to say. As we lay there intertwined. Lips as thick as honey, hips full and wide; you are the sweetest of wines. The night soon turns to day. Dreading the fact that I can't stay. My hands wrapped around your curves as if I was shaping clay. Wishing I could rewind and forever live in that Space. And if enjoying this is wrong, then I am guilty in this case. Stunned by your looks and infatuated with your mind. Heaven sent but your smile is so devilish. Thoughts of you in ecstasy passing through my mind. Truly one of a kind".

As the crowd clapped and cheered I felt a sense of relief wash over me while I walked off the stage toward the hallway.

“For someone who usually speaks so proper that definitely was a switch up, did you write that for someone? Because for a second you sounded like you were describing a scene from a HBO movie” she said.

“I had a little motivation”.

“Lips as thick as honey, hips full and wide”. Whoever you described, I would say your either haing sex with or your just a pervert. One or the other”.

“I’m not perverted, I’m just good at observing”.

“Thoughts of you in ecstasy passing through my mind, Lies. Anyway, are you coming to the game next week”? She asked.

“Don’t you have enough cheerleaders and fanboys Nora”.

“Very funny, you should come or you could keep writing grammatical porn. Also McKenzie is hosting a party the same night after the game”

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

The next day...

The sound of the alarm clock filled my room, As I walked into the kitchen, I could hear my parents talking quietly. I was shocked that it was so quiet. Usually a Saturday morning was the cleaning hour accompanied by mom's 90s R&B, you couldn't tell her that she wasn't a back up singer for Janet Jackson and Mary J. Blige.

"Good morning Langston Hughes"

"Good morning mom," I said.

"Nah honey, he's the suburban prophet"

"Dad, I do feel like my words are my wings" I said.

There's a peaceful silence between the three of us until finally silence is broken. "Oliver are you having sex?"

To be continued………..