I love him – I love him not

I don’t believe she understands that I was heavily involved, like a man is with a woman. I was intimate with him at a young age. I watched the warm water fill his tube and a clothes hanger swirl him solid. I watched him develop and change characteristics. I watched a blade shave him into small portions and then I watched him burn. I was caught up in him and wanted to sell him like foreclosed homes across America. I remember the first time I touched him and placed him in the hand of another woman – she was hooked and so was I. I was in this until the end; I knew there were other women who loved him--but I loved him, also. I thought that if my mother loved him like this, then it must be for a reason. I studied the streets and I learned him like I was preparing for an exam. I went from an eighth to a half ounce in matter of days--we were growing together until she was born at 5 lb and 5 oz. I changed my life because of her and the way she looked into my eyes the day I left for the Suffolk County House of Correction. At that moment I thought we made a promise to each other: I would let him be and love you in its place. I meant the words that I wrote in that 1995 verse attributed to you: “You mean more to me than the world--than life itself--that is why I put the drugs and street life on the shelf.”
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