Yeah...

What a wonderful way of looking back and seeing the conscious beautiful creature I was and the conscious beautiful creature I have become. This is what I need to feel whole. To come to myself and love myself. This is what I need to feel safe. The reason to jive and thrive and dive. This is how I come to be and so this is...

The Locket

Strained, stained,  twisted and scarred, I carry the burden they don't want told.

I'll never tell, for he's my all and to lose that would...

The reward of her was worth the risk of losing me. She is your drug, I am your cure.

Forgive

Stop feeling angry or resentful toward someone for an offense, flaw, or mistake. Whether intentional, unintentional, or unaware, I am going to forgive him eventually...

The Perfect AM Storm

She blew into your life like the perfect storm. She didn't love you, doesn't love you, will not love you. Yet, you sacrifice all to keep her in. For you it's like a calming breeze on a hot summer's day, cooling your heat's light and burning you all the same, torturous and delicious all in the same. She whispers in your ear and you feel soothed by her voice and touch. In those moments, nothing else exists; nothing else matters and you'll do anything to have those moments again. So, you open your doors to allow in that perfect storm, throwing your life into chaos, just to feel her summer breeze. She does not love you, will never love, she only comes in to make her storm stronger. When she leaves, you are left to clean up the pieces, alone, waiting for that perfect storm to blow your way again.  I could never stand with you in the perfect storm, not because I can't win, but because I was always meant to lose

He says "I'm not afraid to accept your baggage. I'll even help you unpack"

Adele and Jill talk of the strength to stay. Is it something I possess? I love him like I've loved no other but is that something that's enough? The battle is one I've lost in winning his heart but never having his soul. Sweetness is his way and sour becomes the flavor on my tongue as I go to the place of pain. He sees in me the hurt but does nothing or does he? I love him like I loved no other but is it something that is enough? Sharp, short, has replaced sweet, soft cutting with each syllable like diamond on glass.

Blame

I'm becoming someone I don't recognize. Do I fault him because there is no change. Do I fault myself knowing this and yet I stay...

Rhythm

They come and they go. I ebb and I flow. You see and  you say. Hey, I love you. I rise and I fall. You text and you call. I say yes but know, you will never be. We try and we fight. Who is wrong, who is right. Right forever or just for now in the meantime. I cry and I sob. You look and your heart throbs at the thought of losing me but not enough to stop. They come and they go. I ebb and I flow. You see and you say Hey. One day I will walk away

I'm pissed because I know he's with her and he didn't even say goodbye...

Really?!?

Well ain't this some shit for ya. I thought fucking with you was supposed to have me spent, weak, wrecked and ravaged. I thought I would have wounds so deep, the return of Moses would be needed to close my red seas. My heart would Humpty and horses, donkeys, soldiers and cowards could search over that wall endlessly and there would still be pieces of me to be found.   I walked through that door expecting wet kisses, trembling thighs and looking like Kim at the end of her 9 and half weeks. Instead I'm four and half years in and I'm dealing with the fact that you have fallen in love with my mind which makes hard for you to possess my body when I need you be the demon inside me. I need to have your sweat soak into my skin and absorb the smell after you've maxed and climaxed all over me and wish you could stay a little while longer. I need that ooh to come from my core and travel up to my center until it hits my tongue and it comes as moan that is muffled cause it ain't the place but you would surely have my time if only you were there. I knew going in you would never be mine, but I needed that scratch and you fit the bill like a congressman and I was going to do the ways and means to be a slave to your masterful hands and tongue and teeth and...See, if you could not handle me, then you shouldn't have fucked over her in the first place

Healing

How do I even begin? Time passes and I pretend as though I'm okay. That words of emptiness don't really matter because I know I have your heart anyway. Do I? I've become the mother of invention and the reality is I need to create a new way of naming this thing that we have that perplexes and vexes me and keeps me wound up, clocking you and exploding, C-4ing you and I just want to be free to give you all that I possess....

I am wondering

If I never hear the words, should I just listen to the actions?

I write of a love that never existed

I write to an address that no longer exists because I hurt from a love that never existed. I can't call and tell you that I ache for you. Wishing for a call, a kiss, a hug, a touch. How could I love so hard and not know I wasn't loved in return. I write to an address that doesn't exist because I hurt from a love that was mine and mine alone. We shared kisses that only we could share, spoke in languages that only we could comprehend. How could that have been false? How could I have missed the signs? Flowers, candy, gifts, those things weren't for us. The only thing we had to cling to was words. I used those words to carry me throughout heartache, reading them over and over when your voice wasn't there to give me comfort. I write to an address that no longer exists because I hurt from a love that wasn't returned. Was it even love that I felt or was it the intoxication I felt from your touch? Your hands touched me and my body filled with hot lava waiting to explode from it's volcano with one command. Your lips tasted of freedom and entrapment all in one, freeing me to give you all and making me a slave to effects of our lovemaking. Would I call it lovemaking? Would I call it fucking? What do you call something that has the power to soothe souls and bring torture. I write to an address that doesn't exist because I hurt from a love that didn't love me back. What do I do with all of this? I'm raw, an exposed being feening for the touch of someone who could care less, who plays with hearts as sport and gives no care to what he leaves behind. How will I get past this agony. I'll write to the address that is no longer his and pretend that he will see that I write of the love that never existed and use the pain to heal.

Is It Necessary

Do we need that physicality to prove our mentality?

Yours...

I'm sitting in my shell, anticipating the moment when you will come for me. You see me and you cradle me gently. Your eyes become soft at the sight of my presence. Present am I, yours for the taking. I'm aching to be touched by you. my skin rolling under your finger's touch. I am the kiss to your klimt, waiting to become the art I will be when you use your fingertips to bring me to life. You take off my jacket slowly and pour me on the bed. my earthen color and my sweet fragrance begin to fill the air. You slowly begin to clean me, making sure I'm pure for the moment we become one. I tremble with each touch of your fingers as you gently wipe each inch of me coaxing and turning me slowly and deliberately. if i could name your touch I still would be wordless cuz I can't words have not been invented that describes the way i feel when you caress me. How long have I waited for these moments. How long have you prepared me for the moment we would be as one your lips on me waiting on the effects you know only I can bring. I was born for this moment, nurtured and cared for just to give the pleasure that you seek. I lie naked to you now completely: clean, pure except for the places where you have touched me. I'm wrapped in the sheets cold from the exposure but I say nothing because the fire that's about to start will will produce the heat needed to have my body smoldering. I know our love affair will be brief but I don't care. Ours is a combination that is hypnotic and intoxicating, clarifying and sensual all in one short encounter. Ooooh, your lips are hot and wet at the same time and you coax and pull on me begging me to give you more. I give in and give you as much as you will allow me to give and more. You step away, breathless and full, wanting more of me but pausing to gather the moment. You cover me once more and just when I know we are about to do this dance until we are both spent and breathless, you callously pass me on to the next nigger and I'm no longer that thrill for you alone. You want others to feel my poison. How could you? I thought I was your mary jane...

Thoughts

I thought about you. I thought about you. Is it possible that we could be something? Your conversation told me "Yes!" I ebb and flow between the right and the wrong, knowing I shouldn't want you as mine. You told me that you dream of me. My heart explodes. Did you really think of me? Can you see us together, being a we that I've wanted us to be. God, am I wrong to hurt for him? Am I supposed to ache for the look of him and burn for the touch of him? I give no pretense and tell what I feel. Does this excite you? Does it make the hairs on your thighs stand up at the thought of me placing my tongue there? No woman should want a man so much, it's animalistic and depraven. Should I tell you that your words wash over me and become music to my skin like a violinist playing his last concerto, glad for the chance to meld and mold. My fingers tingle as I type this, mybeing releases nectar that runs streams for you.

Doubt

Could I be getting over you? Am I free from the spell you have cast over me? When you left me Friday, I thought my heart would implode leaving a vast void which was once so full, mostly of you. I lay and cried and prayed for the strength to pray for the courage to pray to get over you. Was it pain that caused you to speak to me that way? Were you just aching as I was as soon as I saw that you were agonizing? Am I supposed to feel this wretched? Is that how love is defined? Must the hurt sear through your body like a hunter's arrow does through its prey? I haven't talked to you in a week. Just now was my first time thinking of you. I try to conjure up the good I know we once had but all I see is the last time I saw your face. Pain, but not pain because of your separation from me. Pain, veiled by your polarized shields that wouldn't allow the world to see what lay behind them. I managed to smile and drive away and thanked God for the strength that gave me the courage to not turn around and go after you.

Pain

I haven't talked to you in days. I'm missing the sound of your voice. I'm hurting at the thought of not being able to talk to you again. Are you missing me as much as I miss you? Does the mere idea of not hearing my voice weaken you? Tears are threatening to fall from my eyes at any minute. I try my best to keep them in, fearful that once they start I will have no way of stopping them. How do I go on doing me without you being a part of it? How do I look at anythiing the same when I won't be able to view it through your eyes? I don't know how I'll even be able to breath knowing I can't pick up the phone and call you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I don't miss anything or anyone and I miss you. What hurts the most is I don't know if you're missing me.

Magical

I lay looking at the ceiling fan as it pulsated and cooled the area that was just torched by your touch. Every cell in my being is wide awake screaming "Rejoice" for the release you have just given them. FUCKING, that wondorous action that heals wounds, rights wrongs and just feels so damn good. That's what you did to me tonight.