As a little girl, I was always taught to look for your “soulmate”.
I realized one evening. Back straight on a feild of grass.
Sun rays soaking in me.
That, I want my sunmate.
Someone who feels us in a space.
And divides it.
Takes the movement with them.
We’ll have a world soon.
i can feel it widening.
The map of it all.
The way that your sunmate looks at you.
Coated. Drenched in old prayer.
They hand you a glass of water.
And
A reminder.
And tell you “Feed yourself.”
That’s from the body.
& the heart.
The way your sunmate holds you at the end of the day.
Is a simple ode to the way your mind has held them
all last eternity.
Cause we’ve done these things before.
Somewhere caught up
in the child of it all.
I have seen my sunmate in different sandboxes.
Still.
drying.
One year, we may have been praying mantis.
I had a stuttering problem.
But, only your sunmate can understand your broken.
Your sunmate
is a moment
on top of
things that belong to you.
but, your
sunmate belongs to the sky
and thank God,
you have access.
2 The Woman In Her Hood 
“I had a stuttering problem.
But, only your sunmate can understand your broken.”
That command of language is throughout the poem but the culmination of this line is lovely to me. I think this could be a collection, the idea of the sunmate. Why stop at once piece? You could take this to the universe. Its already universal. But the concepts and figures of speech that could be birthed from the notion of a sunmate as opposed to a soulmate is pretty endless. It could change the way people view companionship. That insight is surely needed in this age of Netflix and chill.
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