If you’re looking for me, I’m writing my way through my thoughts over at http://lookingforbeautifull.wordpress.com
Come say hi.
If you’re looking for me, I’m writing my way through my thoughts over at http://lookingforbeautifull.wordpress.com
Come say hi.
Everyday, I get up, get dressed and go to work. Well, Monday through Fridays. I have been at my current job for almost 3 years now. I think being a contractor had me spoiled. My brother has worked for his company for 22 years, I think is his number. Twenty-two years! By year 2.5, I’m usually having anxiety. I am having anxiety now. I need to move to another office and work or something. I need to see something different. I keep asking God, “Lord is this it? Please don’t let this be it.”
I suffer from Wanderlust.
I found a perfect job in Los Angeles. I am dying to move to California. Simultaneously, I want to stay in Boston, too. My homeboy said, “…you can do this job and you need to. Go for it. I’ll meet you out there in about 6-months.” I didn’t apply. Maybe I should see if the requisition is still available. Have a reached the point of being scared to start over? I really want to start over… I think.
As a black girl from the city, working in Financial Services will break you down.
Next to him, its hard to sleep. I feel it get hard when its next to me. Sweet smells. Deep breaths. We lay still wondering who’ll move first. I don’t. You don’t. But we both want to. I press against you. I want you to.
My hands cover your skin. Slowly, hungrily, I take you in. Under the lights, I can see ur body paint glowing. Under your body, between my theighs, I can feel what can only be described as art- growing. My faces, they’re showing. I’m so into you as you enter and re-enter me. I can’t believe we’re here. Over there, under there, on top of there… can you take me there? Take me there. Meet me there. Anywhere- as long as you’re there.
As you’re back there, my mind wanders everywhere. I grip the pillows, arch down, ass up. “Yessssss”, getting it like this, switching positions so swift- I’d have to be a fool to pass up.
Legs trembling, no way I can get up. The way I like it. I mask my smile-trying to hide it. I like it when I ride it but its better when he drives it. And now? I glow. Pulsing my walls, pushing him out, letting go.
Round two? Lets go.
He wants me because he knows I don’t need him.
Letter to his girlfriend,
Whassup Ma, how you? I know you must have a lot of questions for me. And though I’m an asshole, I’m going to try to answer some- truthfully. Your man, yes he knows me. He’s someone I used to know. When he went from lovely to a liability, he had to go. But before that took place? Well, a lot took place. Nights at my place, mornings over his face. Okay, maybe that was a little over the top. If this becomes to much to read, I implore you to stop.
I met him at a cool little diner. Sweats and a tee, he was feeling me. I noticed three phones. He said he lived alone. Older. Two houses. No kids. No girl. Thought he’d be grown. I paid my tab and told him not to let my number collect dust. And that’s how it started– this thing between us. I can’t front, he tried to knock me. Got restless when he found it wasn’t easy to top me. Me, however I had other plans. He’d soon become my boo– I wasn’t really planning on making him my man.
See, I knew from the gate he was lying to me. Its the ones that act too cool that have property in the hills, including a family. So I gave him a chance to come clean. I patiently read between the lines- wanting him to fill the space inbetween. And when he didn’t I was straight up disgusted. Primary reason why men are not to be trusted.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said as I got dressed for a night with my girls.
“Go ahead…” I’m sure he wasn’t ready for me to shake his world.
Faceless. Nameless. I can’t bring myself to talk about him.
He is my new secret. A part of me just wants to go on endlessly. A part of me just want to giggle like a school girl and relish in the details– the minor things only girls care about. I want them to understand why I giggle between text messages. “LOL” when on the phone. Friends want to know details. They’ve never been so interested. I’ve never been so evasive. Why, though? Selfish. I think I want him all to myself.
I stare up at him and smile. He makes a funny face down at me. I just… just smile.
“Oh, but you WILL give details…!!”
“Oh, but I won’t…”
“Well do you even like him? You know how you are with men—”
“…And? I think he likes me too.”
In the morning, I roll over knowing he’s still sleep. Yes, always still sleep. I stare at his skin- eyes roaming over his tattoos… over his eyes… his facial hair… his- no him. My eyes roam and I smile. I stroke his—
(best read if you listen to Joe Budden’s “Couldn’t Help It” while reading)
As I tried to supress the tears, flashing back to all the nights I cried, all I could wonder was, “Why?” I look in your eyes and I see a mixture of frustration and desperation. Blood under my nails, scars will cover your skin. Where did the love end? Where did the disrespect begin? I can’t even talk to you. We’re both breathing heavy. People are watching. No one is helping. A scene under the streetlights. My keys almost in the gutter and your phone on the curb. My heart was shattering. My body was hurting. Neither one of us could speak. How did we get here?
I thought after the first time, you’d definitely stop. Between anxiety and the misery of my intuition becoming reality, even I couldn’t stomach me. I was sick. I was so sick. That soon turned to anger. Anger that I could do nothing about. I screamed and I yelled. You pleaded. Pleaded. I swear I thought I heard remorse, thought I felt respect, thought you felt me. The anger turned physical. Instead of letting go, where are we now? Damn, just miserable. Then 6 months later I found myself going through the same. You wouldn’t dare mention her name. I’m in the street and some females were ice grilling me. I used to just smirk and cock my head- down for whatever. Guess that’s the G in me. I hid my broken heart so well. So perfect to the paparazzi but inside such hell. Finding pictures in locked places, “I’m pregnant” texts and flirtacious messages on MySpaces.
I passed on him, ignored shorty because all I could see was you. Back then, I used to wonder why couldn’t you only just see me too. As he’s inside of me, thoughts of you are inside of me. About how it used to be. Once upon a time when we lived happily. When we rode through the hood, meeting each other at red lights in our hoopties. Nah, these tears aren’t from ecstacy. I just can’t believe I’m letting him lay next to me. My phone is vibrating and I know its you calling. It’s 3am… around the same time I used to know it was her calling. How did I get here? Everyone used to tell me how lucky I was. Everyone wanted to have a man who loved them like he does.
I was jamming. The dim lights, candles lit, band warming up, I was in my zone. Out table was covered with food, drinks and smart phones. Arms in the air, I rocked to Mona Lisa, picturing the video in my head. This used to be my song– Damn, I’m getting old.
“Oh my god these dudes are so fucking ugly…”
We laughed as we tried to look discreetly. They were a little hard on the eyes. We laughed. Then a body moved. A body moved that created a beeline to him. It’d be so long since we’d seen each other. The occasional MySpace message, text message, random phone call– No, this was different. He was here.
As I snapped back to reality, I said, “Oh shit look…” My girls had to see what pictures and words could not personify. “That’s him…” He was dope. Yes, just dope because any other adjective just misses the mark.
“I’m going over there.”
“Wait, who’s the girl—?”
I replied, already on my way. Her smile stopped when I interrupted with my hello. His face was shocked to see me, his voice slightly slurred, but his smile greeted me warmly. We hugged. We walked towards my friends. We made small talk. It was noisy. I felt eyes and not just ones from my own gal crew evesdropping. So I cut it short with a “We should do lunch sometime”. Ha. Well, we should.
I had been crushing on you for a while now. Well, maybe not. I’m too old to have a “crush”. We’ll just say I watched you from a distance. Something about you screamed asshole, but something else conveyed intelligence. Intelligence is the trump card of life. And then…
I caught you looking.
I was introducing you to the city. We dined with friends. You made new friends. Comfortable you could venture on your own, I left your side. At the other end of the bar, an unfamiliar co-worker was keeping my attention. But he was not the one. Jealousy was in your eyes. You smirked. I winked.
You really couldn’t handle this.
I was sure. The smile fools them every time.
I confess, I wondered what you were like.
Wondered if you were worth one time.
Yet and still, I paid you no mind.
Me and Newness have a love/hate relationship. I don’t care about your favorite color, but you can tell me why it’s your favorite if you like. Ask me what frustrated me today. Be random. Be honest. Afterall, you may not know me next week. You may not like me right now. Live in the moment and make me no promises. Stare when you speak. Smile with your eyes. Blush between your brows. Swim in the mystery of me. And if you’re feeling confident, backstroke. But pace yourself. I’m in no rush. Newness rarely becomes permanent and next week, if you know me, you’ll be old.
I hated his flashiness, but I was attracted to it. He stopped traffic; male and female drivers. He was so cool- so pleasant. His smile matched mine. Hello attraction. He was new. He was popular. I played him to the left. I smiled and smirked when I greeted him in passing- wished him well until next time.
“When are you going to let me take you out lil mama?”
“I don’t know…”, I shrugged, smiled and walked away.
I always walked away.
Six years later, I seen him. He was stopping traffic, being flashy. I admit, he toned down. It was raining. “I see everything is still everything.” It was his line for me when ever we’d cross paths. His smile matched mine. Everything was still everything. My familiar stranger. He was too warm, too comforting. New. New was too good to me over the past six years. And in the past 3 days, I was good to him. I listened to his promises, only expecting to simply wish him well until next time. I dove in his mystery and allowed him to get to me. He was my first. Two weeks later, I no longer knew New.
And he’ll never know me.
He walked away.
He was the first to walk away.
I was pacing my house when I thought to call you. It’d be my third time and that was definitely breaking a rule in the player’s manual. You were supposed to see me soon. You had plans for me— for us– me being person one and two. You do the math. But then you were on vacation, so you said. I tried not to be jealous or inquisitive. But my mind did wonder, “With who?” I didn’t wonder long, my pimp hand strong. I was super confident. You texted me and told me you’d hit me back when you returned to your room. “Wow”, I thought, “So he’s on a real vacation.” I threw my phone and got back to basics.
I need new hoes. I keep telling myself.
However, one text message, one voicemail but several days later, still no call. You were supposed to see me soon. You had plans for me— for us– me being person one and two. I was baffled. I must admit, my phone not being called was a first experience for me. I mean, the way you clung to my hips with your arms and your lips, I just knew you were better than this. Damn, I must be losing my touch.
Definitely need new hoes.
Speaking to you provides this cool. And I’m not a cool female.
I mean, I keep it cool, but mellowing out is not always my option. To you, everything is effortless. Nothing is to be worried about. Never a need to raise your voice. We smile through drama. We smile alike. You tell me you miss me, “baby”. Ha. Always baby. I enjoy being flattered so I return your happy tone.
“I’m ready to see you… soon. So what up?”
“Umm… soon? I was thinking more like later…”
“What will it take to see you…?”
I’ve decided not to care. Not to cry. Not to kill you.
Boyfriends are for the birds. See, I knew all the long that you were a dog– you cheated. I expected to catch you. I just didn’t prepare myself for when I actually did. I never prepared myself for seeing they faces. All of them.
It’s almost cynically hilarious. You and them. Me and you. Was it all a joke? Oh please, nigga, don’t tell me you love me. I can barely breathe between my tears and now you want to be sorry. It was a mistake? No, once a is mistake, twice is on purpose. You did it and you liked it. Fuck nigga, you may have loved it.
As I scream through the phone, threatening to come home, I can hear desperation in your voice. And no0o this sideline bitch aint trying to get amped. PAUSE.