EZRA
E v e r y h o u r t h a t passed without speaking to Yaya weighed heavier than the last. Silence wasn’t usually hard for a nigga like me. I lived in it most of my life. I wrote in it and thrived in the shit. But this kind of silence felt wrong and bitter like medicine I knew I needed and couldn’t swallow.
For four days I stared at my phone, reread texts I typed but never sent, and questioned whether hitting send would make shit better or worse. Pride held my hands still. Actually, a mix of pride and fear, and beneath that was raw hurt. I kept hearing her voice from that night echoing painfully clear in my head.
“Maybe… love or whatever this is isn’t enough.”
That shit cut deeper than any line I’d ever written. Because if love wasn’t enough, then what the fuck was?
I’d replayed the Yaya's graduation gathering in my mind a thousand times. Her Pops disapproving stare. Her mom's polite but cold questions. The way Yaya’s whole vibe shifted around them like she was embarrassed by the way I existed, by how raw and real I chose to be. That shit stung every time. And now, with New York in two days, the pressure doubled. If my life was about to shift, shouldn’t she be right there with me?
Instead, I was at the lounge by the bar pouring shots, trying to act like my heart wasn’t in pieces.
“Another?” Mekai asked, holding up the bottle of Henny.
“Pour it,” I muttered, voice low, eyes fixed on nothing.
“Ya know,” he started, sliding the shot glass across the counter, “you been in this spot four nights straight. Same sad ass face, same fucked up mood.”
I downed the shot quickly, welcoming the burn. “Mind ya business, bro.”
“Nah, nigga.” He leaned forward, eyes serious. “What’s really good? This 'bout her?”
I exhaled, running my hand over my face roughly. “Who else would it be?”
“Did you call her yet?”
I gave him a look. “Nah. Pride’s a bitch.”
“Yeah, and it’s makin' ya ass miserable.” Mekai shook his head, pouring another shot. “Look, you gon’ either let that pride suffocate you, or you gon’ swallow it and call ya girl. It’s that simple.”
“It ain’t simple,” I snapped. “Her Pops looked at me like I wasn’t shit and she let him do it. She ain’t stand up for a nigga or back me up. Just stood there all quiet and shit.”
Mekai nodded slowly. “Maybe she was stuck, E. You ever think 'bout that? It’s hard choosin’ sides especially when those worlds clash.”
I shook my head bitterly. “Nah, man. That’s the problem. She shouldn’t have had to choose.”
He sighed, setting the bottle down. “But life ain’t clean like that, E. Sometimes you gotta fight for the shit you want. Sometimes it hurts. But if she’s the one, you gotta handle that shit differently. Fight differently. Let her know you in it.”
I leaned back, closing my eyes, his words soaking into my stubborn skin. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Either way, you got that New York thing poppin’ soon. Clear ya head. Make sure you ready.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“Good,” he said firmly, dapping me up as I stood to leave. “Fix ya shit, bro. She’s good for you.”
I left the lounge, thoughts louder than the street noise. At the crib, I took a long shower, hot water pounding over tense shoulders, chest tight, jaw clenched. Afterward, I was still restless as fuck so I poured myself a drink and grabbed my notebook.
Sitting on my couch, I let the pen move, spilling out everything I couldn’t speak aloud. The words came fast, messy, raw.
Love ain’t simple when it bleeds this deep,
Two worlds clashin', promises we keep.
She chose silence when I needed her voice,
I chose pride when I had no choice.
Family lookin’ at me like I ain’t enough,
Ink on my skin, history rough.
I gave her real, but she wanted refined,
How I keep fightin' when this love shit feels blind?
My voice cracked a bit as I read it back aloud, alone in the quiet apartment. “Damn,” I whispered to myself bitterly, taking another sip, “You got it bad, nigga.” Just as I set the notebook down, my phone lit up, breaking my thoughts. It was Nina. I cleared my throat, answering quickly. “Nina.”
“Ezra,” she greeted warmly, confident as always. “We still good for New York in a couple days?”
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice.
“Good,” she said approvingly. “I’ve lined up meetings. Meridian Verse wants to hear your work live, talk about developing your platform, getting you signed. This could be major for you.”
“That is big,” I admitted, feeling the weight of her words settle on me heavily. “I appreciate you doin’ this.”
“It’s my job,” she replied smoothly. “But honestly, Ezra, this is about more than poetry. It’s about your voice, your story. You belong in spaces that respect your truth, that let you shine as you are.”
Her words punched through the hurt in my chest. “You think I’m ready for all that?”
“I know you are,” Nina said seriously. “And don’t worry, I’ll be right there with you. We’ll talk about branding, vision, and platforms. This is your chance to rewrite your story your way.”
I swallowed, breathing out slowly. “Aight. I’m wit’ it.”
“Good,” Nina repeated, satisfied. “Flight and hotel details are in your email. Call me if you need anything. And Ezra?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever’s holding you back in East Hollis, handle it now. You need your head clear. Trust me.”
We hung up, and I sat back heavily, my mind racing. Nina was right. My future was calling, demanding clarity and decisions. But I couldn’t see that future without Yaya clearly in it. Without making shit right.
I stared at my phone, at her name burning into my screen, fear gripping my throat. But the ache of missing her, of wanting her, outweighed pride. I downed the last of the Henny and took a deep breath, and finally pressed ‘call’. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Just when I thought it’d go to voicemail, she picked up. Soft, guarded, uncertain.
“Ezra?”
Hearing her voice again almost broke me right there. My chest tightened and my pulse quickened. “Yo,” I breathed out roughly. “I can’t do this no more. Not speakin’. This shit killin' me.”
She was quiet for a second, her voice barely a whisper. “Me too.”
I exhaled slowly, courage swelling. “Can we talk?”
There was a pause and then she softly said, “Yeah. Come over.”
And just like that, the knot in my chest loosened just enough for me to breathe again. Whatever came next, I was ready to face it and ready to fight for us.