Cheesing from ear to ear
there suddenly seem not to be
enough words
or verbal expressions
in the English language
or
the emotionally readable expressions
for you to understand
to get
to comprehend
this school girl crush thing
that I've been experiencing.
and it's not necessarily bad either.
Eyes flutter at the thought
stomach balls up at the sound
goosebumps conjoin at the touch
flashbacks and flashforwards
of what's to come
and what's passed
all take over me
because of you
and I existing
someway
somehow
someday....
and it's not bad at all -
wouldn't change it for the world.
***
About Me
- GirllNexxDoor
- Philadelphia, PA, United States
- I suck at bios. Am horrible at telling interesting things about myself without embarassing myself at the same time. So I stick to the basics: My mind is forever active; always thinking and asking questions. I enjoy reading. Love writing. But if it were up to me, I'd love for a lifetime because love, is an animal that as untamed as it is, it's perfect.
Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Drop of Possibility
with a corner of sweet red wine left in her wine glass on the end table, she sat in a slightly oversized racerback tank, leopard print bra, hot pink lace hipsters, and fuzzy leopard slipper socks. the only thing put together on her was her hair: pulled back and neatly gathered into a glittered gold rectangle hair clip - very Chistmasy.
she sat indian styled on her plush California king bed with feet intertwined like a pretzel and tucked underneath her, all while pounding against the keys of her laptop. thinking aloud through her fingers, she couldn't for the life of her, even years later, figure out what was it about her and about them that made him venture off.
by all means, he had it all; at least all of what the average man she thought desired. she was the refreshing image of what a woman was to look and sound like: well put together even on her bad days in fitted jeans, collegiate tees and hoodies with clean furry boots or designer clogs. she handled business sometimes better than a man without negating the "womanly duties" bestowed upon her when her father's sperm decided she'd be born with a split versus a pole.
she'd given him everything: hot, home cooked meals where she'd slave over hot pots and pans served with ice cold drinks and napkins folded cleanly under his plate - served to him. she never called him into the kitchen to retrieve his meals. she always waltz her smooth brown flesh into whatever room he was in and served him. she washed clothes, sheets, carpets, and backs if need be. she was the listening ear he'd said he never had, the friend he needed and the lover he prayed for. she did it all. and not to mention, she was a whole theatrical act in the bedroom, shower, living room, and kitchen (when not cooking of course). whatever he wanted or needed, he had.
but all wasn't enough. as if more could be sought and found. different, yes. more, absolutely not.
and here she was, years down the line, trying to decipher what was it that made him do that to them, and to her.
she questioned her own thoughts on the fact that such questions were even being posed. it didn't matter, but, it did matter. no one likes or wants or desires to be wronged. even more so, no one wants to be hurt and to live to speak on it and relive the pain when the hurt has been instilled upon them by one who was their lover. their partner. and in some cases, the key to their future - or so they thought.
her love was and still is ingenious. craved and desired by the minions who crossed her path. damn near perfect, yet, she had not been able to wrap her head around the sheer selfishness and stupidity in the decisions that were made on his behalf that affected and tainted her view of love and relationships. and she knew it was all out of stupidity and self-centeredness, but her being a woman, it made no sense to her. she knew it wasn't her. couldn't have been. especially not when you get the whole shebang. she knew she wasn't the average woman with average wants and needs or even an average attitude or personality.
she just could never wrap her head around any of it. she knew she probably would never be able to come to grips with the situation. and yet, she'd provided chance upon chance being hopeful and convincing herself that there was enough faith to try. she was glad she'd finally left well enough alone as she realized that even glasses half full of hope grow to be half empty. and eventually, the half empty can barely spare a drop of possibility.
closing her laptop just as she heard his keys jingling in the door, she looked towards the door of their bedroom as he and his deep dark brown eyes met with hers. they smiled as he made his way over to her and placed several sets of soft kisses upon her lips. she realized then that there was a reason for all of the past shenanigans: so she could see what was sitting and waiting in front of her. so she could walk away from what use to be and what could have been. so she could be loved by who wanted to love her all along. the faith she'd given then to one who didn't deserve it, was the same faith she used to walk out on and grab hold of the love she needed all along.
she sat indian styled on her plush California king bed with feet intertwined like a pretzel and tucked underneath her, all while pounding against the keys of her laptop. thinking aloud through her fingers, she couldn't for the life of her, even years later, figure out what was it about her and about them that made him venture off.
by all means, he had it all; at least all of what the average man she thought desired. she was the refreshing image of what a woman was to look and sound like: well put together even on her bad days in fitted jeans, collegiate tees and hoodies with clean furry boots or designer clogs. she handled business sometimes better than a man without negating the "womanly duties" bestowed upon her when her father's sperm decided she'd be born with a split versus a pole.
she'd given him everything: hot, home cooked meals where she'd slave over hot pots and pans served with ice cold drinks and napkins folded cleanly under his plate - served to him. she never called him into the kitchen to retrieve his meals. she always waltz her smooth brown flesh into whatever room he was in and served him. she washed clothes, sheets, carpets, and backs if need be. she was the listening ear he'd said he never had, the friend he needed and the lover he prayed for. she did it all. and not to mention, she was a whole theatrical act in the bedroom, shower, living room, and kitchen (when not cooking of course). whatever he wanted or needed, he had.
but all wasn't enough. as if more could be sought and found. different, yes. more, absolutely not.
and here she was, years down the line, trying to decipher what was it that made him do that to them, and to her.
she questioned her own thoughts on the fact that such questions were even being posed. it didn't matter, but, it did matter. no one likes or wants or desires to be wronged. even more so, no one wants to be hurt and to live to speak on it and relive the pain when the hurt has been instilled upon them by one who was their lover. their partner. and in some cases, the key to their future - or so they thought.
her love was and still is ingenious. craved and desired by the minions who crossed her path. damn near perfect, yet, she had not been able to wrap her head around the sheer selfishness and stupidity in the decisions that were made on his behalf that affected and tainted her view of love and relationships. and she knew it was all out of stupidity and self-centeredness, but her being a woman, it made no sense to her. she knew it wasn't her. couldn't have been. especially not when you get the whole shebang. she knew she wasn't the average woman with average wants and needs or even an average attitude or personality.
she just could never wrap her head around any of it. she knew she probably would never be able to come to grips with the situation. and yet, she'd provided chance upon chance being hopeful and convincing herself that there was enough faith to try. she was glad she'd finally left well enough alone as she realized that even glasses half full of hope grow to be half empty. and eventually, the half empty can barely spare a drop of possibility.
closing her laptop just as she heard his keys jingling in the door, she looked towards the door of their bedroom as he and his deep dark brown eyes met with hers. they smiled as he made his way over to her and placed several sets of soft kisses upon her lips. she realized then that there was a reason for all of the past shenanigans: so she could see what was sitting and waiting in front of her. so she could walk away from what use to be and what could have been. so she could be loved by who wanted to love her all along. the faith she'd given then to one who didn't deserve it, was the same faith she used to walk out on and grab hold of the love she needed all along.
***
Sunday, October 31, 2010
You're Not the Man
When we're young, we do crazy things.
And when we get older, those crazy young things become stupid old things.
This is the best way to describe he and I. Crazy young decisions that had not outgrown us (though they should have) with perhaps no regard for age, growth, or expansion. No recognition of what it means for old things (and older individuals) to remain where they lie. The possible consequences. The possibility to end what is or what was or what could have been to find out what temporary tastes like. Like waking a sleeping giant and expecting it to be gentle and calm. Expecting it to be humble and changed. Expecting its outlook to mirror your own.
These are possibly the best ways to describe he and I.He and I weren't even enough to become "us" or "we". That's how temporary it all was.
We were young when we first crossed paths; hadn't even hit our twenties. Still in transition from childhood to adulthood. And still naive. Still doing what satisified our individual selves and with no responsibility outside of school and work. We enjoyed the non-responsibility of our then lives. We simultaneously taught and learned much from one another. Fun and convienence are the best ways to describe our thinking. But eventually our paths split, familiarity became distance, and time well spent became distant memories. Phone numbers changed just as our ages and focuses on life had. We morphed into new individuals. But old young things followed us so that they would become new stupid old things.
It's a known fact that sometimes in life we have to test waters that we know are not safe for us. We feel the need to enter territories that we know we ought not to. Just to see what it's like as we knowingly toss common sense aside.
And that's what we did. And continued to do. Before I knew it, I realized none of it made any sense to me. And it made no sense just to keep him, it, the situation, or the madness in tact just for the fun of it. Because at the end of the day, if I can't call or reach out when I really need your full, undivided attention, then I don't really need you around. And that's what it came to. I came to realize that just like our pre-twenties, and pre-responsibilities, just like the prefaces to the many chapters that would follow, there's always an ending. And it didn't matter how many times or in how many ways we called ourselves rewinding the clock or attempting to relive then, it was already over, and was over long before it even began.
It didn't matter how many times I attempted to correlate my likeness of his swagger to the traits and qualities that I believe a man should have, he wasn't it. He was not and is not and will not ever be that man. And more importantly, not the man for me. He was not and is not and will not ever be the man willing to bleed for me, live for me, give his last breathe to save for me. He wasn't then, isn't now, and thus, will not ever be that man I somehow managed to misconstrue his image to make myself believe he was.
Sade - You're Not the Man by theresaclark1987
And when we get older, those crazy young things become stupid old things.
This is the best way to describe he and I. Crazy young decisions that had not outgrown us (though they should have) with perhaps no regard for age, growth, or expansion. No recognition of what it means for old things (and older individuals) to remain where they lie. The possible consequences. The possibility to end what is or what was or what could have been to find out what temporary tastes like. Like waking a sleeping giant and expecting it to be gentle and calm. Expecting it to be humble and changed. Expecting its outlook to mirror your own.
These are possibly the best ways to describe he and I.He and I weren't even enough to become "us" or "we". That's how temporary it all was.
We were young when we first crossed paths; hadn't even hit our twenties. Still in transition from childhood to adulthood. And still naive. Still doing what satisified our individual selves and with no responsibility outside of school and work. We enjoyed the non-responsibility of our then lives. We simultaneously taught and learned much from one another. Fun and convienence are the best ways to describe our thinking. But eventually our paths split, familiarity became distance, and time well spent became distant memories. Phone numbers changed just as our ages and focuses on life had. We morphed into new individuals. But old young things followed us so that they would become new stupid old things.
It's a known fact that sometimes in life we have to test waters that we know are not safe for us. We feel the need to enter territories that we know we ought not to. Just to see what it's like as we knowingly toss common sense aside.
And that's what we did. And continued to do. Before I knew it, I realized none of it made any sense to me. And it made no sense just to keep him, it, the situation, or the madness in tact just for the fun of it. Because at the end of the day, if I can't call or reach out when I really need your full, undivided attention, then I don't really need you around. And that's what it came to. I came to realize that just like our pre-twenties, and pre-responsibilities, just like the prefaces to the many chapters that would follow, there's always an ending. And it didn't matter how many times or in how many ways we called ourselves rewinding the clock or attempting to relive then, it was already over, and was over long before it even began.
It didn't matter how many times I attempted to correlate my likeness of his swagger to the traits and qualities that I believe a man should have, he wasn't it. He was not and is not and will not ever be that man. And more importantly, not the man for me. He was not and is not and will not ever be the man willing to bleed for me, live for me, give his last breathe to save for me. He wasn't then, isn't now, and thus, will not ever be that man I somehow managed to misconstrue his image to make myself believe he was.
Sade - You're Not the Man by theresaclark1987
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