She’s been here.
My flight landed at 3pm. As I walked into the house we shared (when I was in town of course)—- something just felt wrong. “We’re going shopping. I want a new bed set and some boxers and shit…” A new bed set? He has two homes, yet today, when I come home, he wants to redecorate. Didn’t I just buy you boxers?
My eyes scanned the room for anything out of place. My tampons were still under the television in his room. My fleece flipflops under the bed. I’d been here two weeks ago and was meticulous about how I placed my things. My Lady Speed Stick was on the nightstand. Well, if the bitch was here, she knows I was too.
“Who’s pink scrunchie?” I asked cooly.
“I picked up my lil sister ye–”
LIE. He picked her up and what? Brought her to the crib… this crib? Hell no, he didn’t. It was comedy at this point really. The lies, the games. He was meticulous too. And he’d better had been. Too bad the motherfucker couldn’t have replaced the sheets before I got here though—
He was anxious. Too anxious. I was lost in my own thoughts. I didn’t even hear him telling me how much he’d missed me. You know, cute shit boyfriends say to make you mellow out. We shopped– he shopped. I guess he was intent on making sure I didn’t see any aftermath on his black sheets. Ha, I’d already looked while he pissed. He was though, pissing me off. He, too, was keeping secrets of his own.
“Nothing. I just want you to know, if and when I catch you, I’m torching your bed with you and that bitch in it. I’ll put you on prime time at 6 o’clock…”
“Man, I’m not about to—”
“Just so you know.”
I had no time for the bullshit. He’s full of it. I just hope he knew… Setting his ass on fire, is exactly what I’d do. No reservations. No hesitations. Fuck Love.
Mr. Fucking Popularity, I’ll make you a star.
It’s Getting Late…
It was time for you to leave. Wifey was calling. I never thought I’d be her. I used to despise her. Now, I was looking her in the mirror. I wasn’t mad that you were leaving …because I knew that you’d be back. You graced my body with kisses— ending on my shoulders. Shoulder kisses. I loved them, but this was you saying goodnight.
How did I get here?
When you go home, will you sleep with your girl? How many other bodies have you kissed head to toe and inbetween? You know what I mean… I mean, why ask why? You’re not mine… don’t belong to me. Our eyes met. I glanced at the clock, 3:18am.
“You’re always rushing home. I remember when you were dying to stay the night…”
“I mean, tomorrow morning I gotta—”
“Nah, right. It’s cool, get your kicks and come on…”
I mean, I was not about to do this, not with you. Sneakers on, you stopped at the door. Looking me in my eyes, I could tell you were searching for emotion behind my silence. I remember you staring me down. I returned your gaze. Cocked my eyebrow.
“You’re mad… don’t be mad.” Then you kissed me. “You know—”
“Nah, YOU should know that you smell like Dolce. You might want to shower before you roll over to wifey.”
Door slammed. The night was over. There was nothing else to say. You’d go home to the person that I used to be. The same person I vowed never to be again. While mine was thinking of me, your’s was thinking of you. I’d go to sleep as the girl I could never catch.
The girl I wondered if karma would ever catch up to.
Mad? Nah, it’s cool.
Afterall, I enjoyed being her much more than he enjoyed being you.