Another Fly on the Wall: 2009

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Grape Juice Stains

When you thought she slept with your best friend because he was better than you…maybe you were right. Maybe he was a better lookin, better smilin, better all around guy. Perhaps you didn’t measure up. Maybe it’s time you face the fact that…maybe you were right.

When he said, “This was the last time, I promise,” and you took his word for it, knowing it was a lie…maybe you were right. You figured that her tight abs, hooked up hair and masters degree was what drew him in. time to face the fact that..maybe you were right.

When you thought she got tired of you because your game was whack…maybe you were right. You said that you understood that she was better than you deserved and you were lucky just to get a glimpse. She shook her head and walked away because…maybe you were right.

When you told your girlfriends that he was too good for you and you thought you needed more of a thug…maybe you were right. Because the man you were with deserved more than a hoodrat minded broad just trying to get ahead of him along with the rest of the world. You felt you needed to be slapped silly. Mmhm…maybe you were right.

Maybe, just maybe, you ARE the low life that you played at being. Perhaps it’s not a mask, maybe that’s just you. The self portraits that you paint…they couldn’t be further from the reflection in the mirror.

It's like you bleed grape juice. I don’t have hard feelings about grape juice…wait, that’s a lie, I do. It's an imposter. Grape juice typically tastes NOTHING like grapes. Grape soda, grape candy, grape whatever doesn’t taste like grapes. I honestly wont partake in “grape flavored” anything. It’s a fallacy in which I choose not to participate.

The next time any of us try to use guilt, pity, or any means other than our supposedly true selves to get further on down any road, we should grip the mirror bravely and see that MAYBE WE ARE RIGHT!

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

For the Holidays

Behold

How do you explain the love you feel on your child’s first Christmas to an infertile couple?

How do you share the way you look at a picture of 3 generations in front of the tree to an orphan?

How do you demonstrate an immeasurable emotion?

You balance their lack with your abundance.

At this time, the holes seem more hollow.

The depths of the fissures are unfathomable.

As some of us celebrate existence and memories,

The rest of us brace ourselves for the impending emptiness.

Remember that as much as you feel, someone else doesn’t.

A smile, hug or even a text, they can fill voids.

Your touch, voice and comfort can come in simple ways.

Instead of trying to take the only thing they can feel,

Sit and acknowledge that emotions other than yours exist.

See your life minus your wealth and help them carry their burden.

I don’t suggest we give rise to multiple pity parties.

I’m imploring that everyone recognize another’s pain.

Taking a few moments to join someone in their personal plane,

Will invite them into yours effortlessly.

By requesting admission to their world, you create a bridge to yours.

So this season,

A shoulder to cry on,

A hug to show support,

A song to warm a heart,

Share out of your abundance of love.

I’m not big on holiday spirit, so that’s as close as it gets. Peace, contentment and maybe even a little joy for everyone this season =D

Burning Up the Impurities

Description of an Icon

It’s beyond my realm of understanding

How in a few short lines of prose I can

Peg you for who you are…a reflection of him,

The man I never got a chance to know.

That’s right; I can’t remember his face at all.

But instinctually I know he is yours, not ours.

Visions of your parallels fill my mind as I read.

Can characteristics share the mirror too?

The bitterness I didn’t know I had rises violently,

Pushing against my brain, assaulting what I thought

Existed in our matching set of genetic material.

DNA isn’t a strong enough bond to secure love.

The negativity of the almost thirty year silence

Confronts me on a severely emotional note.

I’m not usually egged on by the darker side of things.

It’s traumatizing to have this invasion right now.

Fighting to find the silver lining of this gigantic cloud,

Thrashing thru the humid middle in search of solidity.

I want to be wrapped in Saran Wrap so I can go through

Yet be totally protected without contamination.

My fear is that by looking

At him, through you

I may see a reflection of

Myself.

These are my personal scattered emotions after reading a letter (and writing one in return) from the half brother I’ve never met. He was borne one year, four days before me. Our father’s birthday nestled two days after his and two days before mine. His and mine. Ours. Interesting, I don’t feel like I have any part of this supposedly shared piece of ancestry. One of my first thoughts was, “You’re just like him; full of shit.” Then, I was shocked at myself for the snap judgment. I find myself more supportive of people I’ve never met, than of the man with whom I share a specified amount of DNA. Writing this reality check is worth more than anyone’s full bank account. More to come as the fire gets hotter. The only way to purify is to leave it on the flame until you can see a flawless reflection.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Monopoly Anyone?

Playing the Game
.
You get whiplash when he walks past the store front window.
He looks suave and debonair in his italian suit and silk tie.
You notice him taking notice of you and so the game begins.
.
You muster up your college vocabulary and fish out your glasses.
The top three buttons on your shirt are quickly fastened.
Your feet find their way back into the work heels as he makes his approach.
.
His eyes meet yours briefly as his feet lead him on a path straight for you.
He loosens his tie as he saunters up to the nearby stool.
Taking a seat, he orders a scotch on the rocks and sends a drink to her.
.
The girl at the end of the bar is a classic beauty with a modern twist.
Her massive collection of auburn curls are restrained in a high, tight, ponytail.
The wispy indie dress billows around her ankles as her laughter fills the room.
.
Time after time you've seen the same scenario play out before your eyes.
This time you finally get the nerve up to ask, "Why her and not me?"
You wait for an answer about style, look and preference.
.
The man looks as if he's only seeing you for the very first time.
He gives you a head to toe once over before he begins.
His explanation is preceded by a comical smile of beautiful veneers.
.
"I saw you through the window before I decided to stop.
Your blouse slightly unbuttoned, holding a glass of merlot,
A woman at ease, bare feet hanging above forgotten stillettos.
.
"Your hair was less than perfect and your make up was almost gone.
My thoughts were centered on how comfortable you were in your own skin.
Here in public, you still found your personal corner of peace.
.
"However, as I grabbed your eye, you changed in a series of blinks.
The firsts three blinks buttoned your shirt, applied lipstick and found the out of place hairs.
The next three found your glasses, shoes and perfected posture.
.
"You adjusted to what you surmised I would be attracted to,
You killed the very essence of yourself that silently drew me in.
Only then did I settle for sending a drink to the woman over there.
.
"Because a woman who is comfortable enough to be who she is wherever she is,
That is where I find true beauty and that's the ultimate attraction.
It's exactly what I saw until you decided that you knew what I wanted.
.
" I craved what I saw from afar, the ideal picture of perfection.
You turned out to be a basic imitation of the Mona Lisa I sought.
Nothing more than a chameleon with no true existance of your own.
.
"Knowing who you are and trusting in it is the sexist thing ever.
It may not appeal to all men who walk along your path,
But respect and real reactions will be plentiful during your walk.
.
"We dont want fake anymore than you want to play dress up.
Eventually we all tire of our assigned roles and want to shed the character.
Portrayals these days are poor imitations of pseudo lives.

"If you learn to broadcast exactly who you are,
When a man gets closer, he wont leave out of disappointment,
He'll draw nearer, already addicted to the flecks of who you are.

"But when you decide ahead of time to slip into the role I may want,
Then you lure me in with false pretenses that eventually fall away,
That's when I wake up next to a woman that neither of us know."

He falls silent and allows it all to sink in along with the wine.
Too late to undo what you've done, you acknowledge his wisdom with a nod.
You watch longingly as he locks eyes with the treasure shining at the end of the bar.

Copyright © 2009 Natasha Guy

Too many times we see someone that we want and hurry to change into the person they desire. What about your original blue print? If you can attract someone with those plans, then you dont have to second guess what the person wants. Simply because the person has already decided that he or she wants you. So, in this case, you only have to continue existing, versus constantly recreating the idea or role that you've assumed. Take a little mirror time each day and make sure you know who you are so that when someone asks your name, you'll know the meaning behind it.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

One Mo' 'Gin!

In The Moment

Learn to actively wait with expectancy.
Think of waiting as an action verb.
I simply dont want to wait.
I thrive on knowing and finding out.
Most people realize this sooner than later.
.
I wanna know as much as possible.
I need to pack my mind with knowledge.
I know that knowledge and wisdom are not the same.
I am learning how to wait without frustration.
A lot of people never figure out how to do this.
.
Does anyone else see "wait" as a 4 letter word?
Does it appear negative to people without my eyes?
Do you try to calculate exactly how long yours will be?
Does a formula exist that shows how to wait successfully?
How does it feel to achieve patience?
.
Like a seed that takes 9 months to produce viable fruit,
If I dont complete the wait time, it can be dangerous.
The threat can be to both my seed and myself.
Conquiering my own lack of patience will yield more than expected.
Try to make it through with dignity and grace.
.
I always question why I can't skip the wait.
Why can't things be great now instead of later?
I've missed my lessons hidden within the wait.
So again, I begin the test of time, maybe last the whole exam.
Hopefully I'm not alone and others have their own issues of time too.
.
I'm being tested once more and this time I'll pray:
.

Please give me the strength, grace and peace that all pass normal understanding.

Lord I'm trying, so please wait on me with the same patience that you wish to instill in me.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Si, Se Puede!

You can do it!
Usted lo puede hacer!
あなたはそれをすることができます
Vous pouvez le faire!
你可以做這事
Sie können es machen!
U kunt het doen!
Pode fazê-lo!
그것은 당신이 할 수 있는 일
Lei può farlo!
Du kan gøre det!

In any language, it means the same thing.

I believe in you!

I was gonna add more to this, but i decided that it can stand alone, on its own, strong without something extra.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Yellow Brick Road

My Next Bad Habit

I’m starting to feel that familiar pull once more.

Twitching like a fiend, I’m about to knock down the door.

It’s worse than a nicotine craving one can feel,

As long as you don’t touch me, it won’t become real.

Boy, you’re about to be my next bad habit.

I’m trying to break the cycle, cuz I’ve already had it.

I’ve been down this road before and remember it well.

You’re the first addiction on another path to hell.

I see you and immediately my eyes are over come with a glaze.

Your style, voice and words tend to leave me in a daze.

I need to be stronger than this since my eyes are open wide.

I’m being pulled out to sea by the undercurrent and tide.

Boy, you’re about to be my next bad habit.

The stench this will leave on me is gonna be rancid.

I see the end before we begin this whole ordeal.

Why can’t I seem to protect the heart I know you’ll steal?

I see the first shoe, like a Jimmy Choo, it has my attention.

I forget to watch for the second one to drop, the one you didn’t mention.

When it falls, I remember what I forgot, but let me be candid.

I knew from the start you’d be my next bad habit.

Some of us, me included, do this all the time. We go the distance to start something when we’ve already seen the end of the road. We spend our time trying to paint the sky a different color. This level of deception to others and/or to self is detrimental to all over emotional health. We can’t claim to be victims of things we allow to happen, when it happens in plain sight and we ignore all the warning signs. Now, I’m not pointing fingers at everyone but me, I’ve done this too. This piece at first glance makes me say, why on earth do we do that? We see the writing on the wall and refuse to acknowledge it. We head into it with all of the “what if” thoughts swarming our minds. Let’s make a conscious effort to not wait for the other shoe to drop. Just take both shoes and fined a new street beforehand.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Just a lil something extra

My Qualities

I have the ability to walk, see and speak.

I do not have perfect health.

I have food to eat, somewhere to live, clothes to wear.

I do not have a full bank account.

I have friends, family and children to speak to frequently.

I do not have constant physical access to them.

I have a loving and caring soul.

I do not have a bitter spirit.

I have experienced love and hate.

I do not always have the capacity to return them as given.

I have faith, peace and grace that pass natural understanding.

I do not have enough apathy to fully give up.

I have my specific beliefs about God, politics and the state of the world.

I do not have the energy to force them upon you.

I have a sense of humor about a lot of things.

I do not have a tolerance for stupidity.

I have a multi-ethnic background that comes with preconceptions.

I do not have a stereotypical anything.

I have the ability, want and desire to create words, ideas and tangible items.

I do not have the ability to thrive within a cage.

I have the perseverance to be real at all costs.

I do not have the weakness of deception.

I have the will to embrace builders, movers and survivors.

I do not have time for the walking dead.

I have accepted the tough love school of thought.

I won’t stand for any pity party, including my own.

I am simply me…who are you?

A short story

Ok...so I wasnt sure if I was going to post this or not when it was written and I decided that you guys would get to see another side of me if I shared it. So enjoy...oh, this is a bit "mature" so dont say I didnt warn you!

Another Level for Us

You remind me firmly, “No work in the bedroom,” when you see me reach for the laptop out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m just reading your latest creation to keep me company until you’re out of the shower, baby. So, technically it’s still just me and your brilliance in bed.” I smile and give you a wink as you disappear into the bathroom shaking your head. I sip on my hot chocolate and pray that you don’t use all the hot water. I lose track of time and myself while reading yet another amazing work that has escaped from your mind. I always have a renewed awe for you when you unveil another piece. The sudden halt of the downpour in the next room coincides with the click of my closing laptop. The clock confirms that it’s only been twenty minutes since you entered. I gather my night clothes into a pile on the end of the bed so I can go in next.

You saunter into the room, still damp but not dripping, with a bath sheet around your waist. I giggle lightly when you raise one eyebrow quizzically at the gleam in my eye. I plant a kiss on your cheek in passing, my change of clothes in my arms. I reappear just as quickly to see you reaching for the body lotion on the dresser. With a naughty glance, I lift the bottle from your hands and nod my directions. Understanding me completely, you reveal chocolate velvety skin and lay back on the bed slowly. I squeeze lotion into my hands and rub them vigorously to warm things up. I use my wrist to turn up the volume dial so that Chopin fills the room. You shake your head no. I guess that won’t be the soundtrack for tonight. You hold up three fingers and solicit another giggle from me. Jazz, my favorite, it is. I return to you and caress every inch of your silky skin, covering it with lotion and kisses. Somewhere in the process your breathing deepened and your eyes slipped shut. I gently kiss your forehead and cover you with a sheet before I go to the shower. I know you’ll come around before I’m done, but a power nap won’t hurt.

My shower takes twice as long as yours. I lotion and dress in the bathroom. I quietly tip toe back to the bedroom, just in case you’re still sleeping. I poke my head in the room and erupt in laughter to see you grinning, sitting naked in the glow of the stereo system. I carefully watch your smile fade when you recognize my satin button-up night shirt; I only wear this when it’s that time of the month. You know when you see my hair wrapped up in a scarf that I’ve already lotioned too and am ready for bed. Disappointed, you watch me climb onto my side of the bed and disguise it with a smile of your own. You turn to kiss me goodnight and I bolt upright suddenly. I remember that I forgot to turn off the bathroom light and slowly climb back out of bed. I hear you sigh and turn over as I promise to return shortly.

Moments later I enter the bedroom again. “Baby, I know you’ve had a really long day. Can you help me with something? It will only take a second.”

“It really can’t wait? I just got comfortable.”

“Well, I’m having trouble with this button. Can you help me undo the last one, please?”

You turn over slowly, a bit confused, and peer up at me through one open eye. Your eyes aren’t the only things that bulge once you focus on the sight before you. My hair is hanging just below my shoulders in soft curls. My eyes, full of love, are centered and focused on you. As you survey and take a visual inventory of the new lingerie in your favorite color, I move just out of reach. Simultaneously, CD number four cues up and Eric Benet begins to croon. I twirl and move to the rhythm of the music to show off the new sheer and lace effectively. I begin to edge the straps off my shoulders, but you place your hand on mine and stop my progress. My face reveals my own confusion as you lead me closer to the end of the bed. Still seated on the edge of the bed, you softly hold my hands away from my body and bury your face in the crook of my neck. I try to shy away and you mumble into my hair. Your grip tightens firmly, restricting me from fleeing. I think I hear a faint growl and the words “all mine.” I quit fighting the feeling and give in to enjoyment.

Just as I’m getting used to your warm lips and breath on my neck, your teeth nip at my shoulder and send a chill up my spine. I shudder and release a barely audible moan in response. I feel your lips curl against my skin, acknowledging the pleasure between us. You let go of my right hand just long enough for me to take my arm out of the strap. I take the liberty to rub my hand across your head while my hand is free. You see it as an opportunity to cup my now exposed breast. In a combined effort, my nipple finds its way into your mouth. Skillfully you guide my other arm out of its strap and run your tongue through the valley between my breasts. Your soft lips make the rest of my body jealous of my nipples. The hunger you express pulls various pleasure sounds from my throat that obviously amuse you. While you feast on exposed skin, my hands gently massage your shoulders and back. We exchange glances that only encourage the growing fire in our eyes.

You take a moment to retrieve my hands and make room so you can stand eye to eye with me. I try to kiss you and caress your face. Again, you immobilize my hands and wink seductively. My heart speeds up a bit at the thought of the unknown. My mind wanders a bit as I listen to the words of Eric Benet in the background, my skin tingling where it touches yours. On the brink of breaking the pregnant silence between us, I stand in your strong grip. The sudden burst of flame I see in your eyes steals my breath as your mouth comes crashing down on mine. Your hands snake around my waist and you pull me to you while stripping away the remaining pieces of flimsy material. When I inhale, I only take in more of your soul and your spirit. The feeling is almost smothering, but the more you give, the more I crave it. You instinctually answer my plea with more passion than I’ve ever felt between us before.

My leg naturally wraps around your hip in efforts to meld our bodies together. You shove your hands down over my hips and butt and in one smooth motion you have me pinned up against the wall. Suddenly, I find my legs around your waist, your hands strongly supporting me and our circular breathing rising above our chosen album for the night to make sweet music of our own. After a half hour of hard pounding, toe curling, soul freeing mixing of flesh, my spirit stops soaring long enough for me to feel the carpet under my feet again. The pressure between my ears eases up enough for me to notice CD 5 is spouting the ocean’s nature sounds into the bedroom. A giggle escapes my exhausted lungs as we both climb back onto the bed. We take a few moments to settle together beneath the sheets and covers; our sweat drenched bodies a bit chilled. I fight for my eyelids to stay open as I lay my head on your chest and listen to your heart beat in my ears. I smile at the movement of the little hairs on your chest in response to my deep, even breathing. You stroke my hair lightly and kiss my forehead before whispering my name.

“Goodnight, my love,” I hear you say. The vibrations from your speech coax a tired tear from my drooping eyes. I smile at the happy stream and succumb to the satisfying slumber.

Sun is pouring through the blinds when I awake alone in the big bed clenching one of our overstuffed pillows. I sit up and listen for running water or footsteps somewhere else in the house. Something feels a little off. My hand gravitates toward my necklace as I try to focus. I gasp in horror finding my husband’s ring hanging next to my sinking heart. My sobs pierce the silence painfully. One exact year from the day he died, my husband gave me the greatest comfort of all: one more night in his arms.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Meh...Love...

I’ve Been Framed

They always paint a pretty picture at first.

Then, they say I’m snarling, not smiling.

They identify the fire brewing behind my eyes as evil instead of passion.

They acknowledge my pride as a huge chip on my shoulder.

My stance suddenly screams conflict, not strength.

Everyone knows my name.

Everyone thinks they know who I am.

Everyone claims I’ve abused them.

Everyone has been a victim.

Everyone defines who I am.

She says I hurt on all levels.

When her sister was born, I abandoned her.

When her best friend sauntered in, I ran.

When her husband sent her to the ER, I hid.

When her child ran away, I was in his suitcase.

It is not my fault,

The crimes people do in my name.

All are ready to avoid the blame

So it’s added to my rap sheet,

Filed under my offences.

He says I am elusive.

When girls played on his good intentions, I deceived.

When she told him the child was his, I proved his trust wrong.

When they said, “I do,” and she didn’t, I misled him.

When the real thing stares him down, I confuse him.

My name is spoken in hushed whispers.

It brings fear, reluctantly.

The perversion of my personality has tarnished my reputation.

Most people say they know my face.

Apparently, I have multiple impersonators.

I do not hate you.

I do not run from you.

I do not damage you.

I do not push you away.

I do not destroy.

I can help you see strength in vulnerability.

I can help you survive your greatest loss.

I can give you the confidence you didn’t know you had.

If you trust in who you know me to be,

If you deny the outrageously false accusations against me

You can call me by my name

LOVE.

“Love should never hurt, but with the twisted way we mutilate its purpose, it has to protect itself.”

(Me)

So many things are done in the name of Love. People betray, they abuse and they justify lies. Love is so often associated with the feelings of hurt and pain, it’s a wonder that anyone believes in her purity at all. I can almost see Love like the pregnant Virgin Mary, innocent, but looking guilty as sin. Everyone points and stares; whispers fill the air at the very mention of Love. While plenty of folks will say they had Love at one time, or thought they did, just as many will say she’s an elusive entity. Lately, her image has been so marred and tarnished that I wonder how many still think she actually exists.

I am one of the few that believe in the true form of Love still being out there somewhere. Even with my strong grip on hope, I find myself doubting her existence from time to time. Each time I was cheated on, each time I was lied to, each time I gave my all and remained unfulfilled…I found myself questioning Love’s tangible existence versus her ideal. At one point, I fought to remain jaded in efforts to protect myself. Obviously, that didn’t work for too long.

Most people have faced a lopsided Love at some point. Either you have liked someone beyond their feelings, or you have earned someone else’s unsolicited affections. It is uncomfortable for both parties. However, it seems best to do the hardest thing in these situations: face reality and tell the truth!! If you are receiving undesired affection, let the giver know as softly as possible, but in no uncertain terms, how you do or do not feel. The longer it goes on, the more hurt will be involved.

I believe that everyone has their own idea of what true Love looks like. So with that in mind, we should all be looking for someone who shares our idea of what Love is supposed to look like. The trouble starts when one person loves and the other only tolerates. Trouble also shows up when two people with different definitions of Love try to build a bridge that will never connect. Eventually, our bridges may line up side by side, but they will never match up enough to create one solid bridge. We both end up with more of a piece of a pier than a completed bridge. We can either take our respective piers peacefully to find the perfect mates, destroy each other’s piers out of frustration and blame, or sit on the ends of our piers reviewing screwed up calculations and wondering how we got there.

I say all that to make one final point. When the Love boat finally comes in, I’ll have plenty of piers where it can dock and I’ll have one completed bridge, so we can get back to the mainland after my true love and I cruise the waters.

Puppet Master

I stare at the back of your head without blinking.

You’re so used to it at this point that you are no longer disturbed.

My eyes, they haven’t blinked in weeks.

The dry dust gathering on my body is testimony.

You have moved on.

I wish I could.

You are the puppet master.

You pulled my strings.

You were amused by the little dance I did.

You tangled my strings.

You didn’t have the patience to untie them.

You deemed me useless.

The joy you found in toying with every part of me,

You, no doubt, have found in others now.

Their painted smiles and rosy cheeks comfort you.

My features hold true for you, despite the dust I’ve collected.

I slump over in the dark corner of the cobwebbed shelf.

Without your attention and energy, I am lifeless.

I am the discarded wooden marionette.

I have knotted strings restricting my movement.

I long to bring you pleasure.

I witness your acts with imposters.

I feel abandoned.

I have lost my purpose.

I wanted to become your Pinocchio.

I was willing to face real emotions for you.

I mistook you to be my Geppetto.

My strings they bind me…to you.

My hollow body longs to house a beating heart.

My existence was defined through you.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Eyes Wide...Shut.

Well I liked this idea. Some of it...alot of it, is me. Then some of it isn't, but it is what fit in the piece. An interesting perspective in my opinion...but interesting isn't always right. I'm just happy that I'm a resilient person and can snap back from ridiculous situations that I happen to stumble into at times. Then other times I walk right into them, eyes clamped shut and pray its not what I think it is. I'm not surprised when I walk into the wall that I knew was there to begin with...but damn, the wall still hurts lol.

Misguided Intentions

I want to hate you and blame you exclusively.

I know that’s not fair, so I turn to my mirror reluctantly.

My eyes stare back accusingly until I accept responsibility.

You didn’t blind me and lead me along the familiar path.

I closed my eyes willingly and grabbed onto the back of your shirt.

I staggered after you, refusing to uncover my eyes, afraid of what I might see

I stumbled slightly on the rocks that you neglected to mention.

You didn’t exactly extend your hand to invite me on this journey either.

I take responsibility for solidifying a one way connection.

I’m only hurt because I withdrew and you didn’t notice…much less…

Well it doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do…does it?

This is about what I did, why I did it and acknowledging my actions.

I wore my heart on my sleeve and begged you to kill it with your song.

Well, now I’ve tired of your playing with it so I cut the strings.

But you’re right; you wouldn’t have access without my invitation.

Since this happens a lot, you’d think I would learn to shield my heart.

The problem is that I don’t want to shield it, I’m a lover.

I love my friends, family, people in general, right from the start.

I am an all or nothing type of girl who has no middle ground.

When I give it all, it’s an overinvestment and I have to withdraw.

When I refuse to invest, I feel that I’m cheating someone else.

I know the answer’s in the middle, that place I don’t have.

I like who I am and how I love and one day I believe it will pay off.

It’s just that the sinking feeling after the climax tends to siphon hope.

The jaded person that temporarily inhabits my body during this period…

I refuse to get stuck in that mode because of misplaced anger.

I’m only hurt because of my own actions and your inaction.

I cannot fault you for openly accepting everything I freely offered

You never asked for it, didn’t hint at it, you simply received.

You didn’t promise a return of any kind, and I didn’t ask for a contract.

Good thing I didn’t offer any more than I could afford to lose.

I don’t regret giving; I just need to choose the receiver more carefully

All in all I’m mad at myself; you have done no “wrong”.

You will be an associate for whom I once had feelings.

I will be a distant memory…if I’m lucky.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

um...yeah...

If you think it's you, its not. If you know it's you, try one more time. If youre thinking, that's not me, it prolly is...

Making You Understand

You’re in my head, floating every minute.

Not that I don’t want you there in my thoughts,

But you aren’t aware how much I care.

I can’t explain why I care so deeply.

I’m not sure a definition would even prove helpful.

All I know is that it’s filling every fiber of my being.

I know things progress at different rates for different people.

But with you, something indescribably is taking over.

I wish that you felt the same way and confirmed it.

Since you may think you feel me, but probably have no real idea,

Let me try to contain it with words, so that you can name the picture you see.

Eventually though, you’ll have to see the fire in my eyes to understand completely.

I look at you and see the future I’ve rarely dreamed of.

Any sign of communication from you sends shivers through me.

I long for the caress of your thoughts and words on my soul.

I want to feel your arms around me, holding on tight.

I want to wake up to your breath on my neck, and arms over mine.

I want to feel the weight of your head resting in my hair as we sleep.

Even beyond the physical, I want to embrace your passions.

I can’t wait to back up your causes and organizations.

There is so much drive in the way you speak of anything.

I want to be the woman you need, want and crave.

You make me strive to be a better person for both me and you.

Wow. I can’t believe you have me searching for our future.

I may never understand this hold you have on me.

Perhaps I’d rather revel in it, than question my own good fortune.

As easy as it came, I’m well aware that I can all slip away.

Even though you see I’ve opened the flood gates and invested all,

Please don’t just indulge for indulgence sake, consequences unweighed.

But if you feel the same, feel free to join me in enamored bliss!

With matching determination, passion and flare, I think this could be it.

What if I become your very last first kiss?

Can you truly come to grips, using this as truth?

Welll...

I was going to dedicate this to the person it was written about. Instead, i'm going to dedicate it to the ladies and gents that I love and who love me. Thank you for not being this person

Venomous Masquerade

That mask is so beautifully enticing.

It drew me in like it was supposed to.

I’m still wondering how much of the act was real.

Did you ever realize at any point the damage you did?

They say hind sight is 20/20.

But it doesn’t hurt to have an insider too.

I have one question that I don’t need answered.

When you look in the mirror do you see both of your faces?

All of those wonderful things you said to distract me.

Really did the job while you stole from me in the same breath.

You saw my nature before we spoke because I’m translucent.

I wear my heart on my sleeve for easy access to those closest.

You snaked through the crowd like a silenced rattler.

As deadly as a cobra, you were to my dreams

Your reflective scales gave an air of real blood.

But you are simply the court jester, imitating crowns.

One day I’ll get you a real mirror.

But right now you seem all too happy

With your magnifying glass making you appear

Larger than life to no one but you.

How many of us...specially my females...do this? LOL

Patience Is a Virtue

It’s one a.m. and counting.

I wonder if you are thinking of me.

No. You’re tucked in and sleeping.

Maybe you’re dreaming of me…maybe not.

I wish I’d dream of you tonight,

Then wake to find my dream come true.

I look at my clock with glowing red numbers,

A warning not to do it.

I glace guiltily at my cell,

Type a text and hesitate before pressing SEND.

Immediately I regret trying to wake you.

I mean…trying to see if you’re still up.

Why do I do this?

I make myself look desperate.

When I just want to make myself understood.

At this point, how could you not know?

I text, call, email and comment on your status daily.

Wow. Do you feel loved and appreciated…or stalked?

As bad as I felt moments ago,

I contemplate “checking” on you again.

I shake my head and giggle.

Yeah that’s the way to invade your dreams!

Let’s trigger my ringtone multiple times while you sleep.

Wait. Who says you’ve even given me a ringtone?

Insanity thrives on this end of the electronic divide

As I stare at the disappointing silence.

I check to make sure the phone is on.

I send and receive a text with someone else.

Yeah, it’s still working properly.

You’re sleeping when you should be. Imagine that.

So instead of doing something constructive,

I sit and wait, thinking of you.

I watch other texts light up on my phone.

I vent my own frustrations through my pen.

I reread the one text with which I indulged myself.

“Sweet dreams for the gentle giant.”

Friday, October 9, 2009

My mind has wandered lately

I Miss…Him

Before I begin, I cannot stress enough how

This is not about one person, at least not one I know now.

It’s about my dream man, the one I never found.

The one I’m still waiting to meet, hoping he’ll come around.

Some may wonder how I can miss what I never had.

It’s because although I’m whole and complete, I am a little sad.

Not because a specific man left, but because I still want my dream man.

I know when he finally finds me, he’ll love me like no other can.

So this is about the things that I still miss.

The things that I’ll find at my last first kiss.

I miss the stare that reaches all the way to my spirit,

Not the one that cuts through me to the core.

The eyes that chose not to hide their vulnerability,

Especially when they are lying in the bed next to me.

I miss being able to giggle at everything in our lives,

At all of the ups and downs, each and every surprise

Laugh with our children, who will be proof of our love.

Stand next to him through good and bad, my place ordained from above.

I miss going through the bad times, so we know which the good ones are.

We’d embrace each other and smile, instead of wishing on a shooting star.

The foundation of our dreams rooted in the one we hold,

We would dare to dream big and expect to behold.

I miss the passion that exists between us when he’s there.

Even when I’m lying in his arms, his face buried in my hair.

Bottomless and never ending, like the rings on our hands,

Our footprints everlasting, unlike when water washes over sands.

I miss the voice that, with just one word, sends chills down my back,

The voice that echoes in my head, when I’m not acting how I should act.

That one that whispers sweetly that he loves me each and every day.

The one, that even when it’s angry, doesn’t hurt and push away.

I miss playing tackle football, one on one, in his jersey at midnight.

The hold I try to break free from, not really putting up a fight.

Pillow wars that lead to melding into each other as one.

And even the serious fights that tell us real life has begun.

So I wait somewhat impatiently, for the one to bring my bliss.

I wait on the Lord to guide him, that one man I truly miss.

Stunned

Like watching a horror movie through spread fingers,

I saw it all unfold before me in slow motion.

You and her, tangled in the bed sheets with my duvet on the floor.

I stand immobilized, paralyzing shock riveting through me.

Both of you are far too involved in your acts to notice

My presence; witnessing what I suspected, but denied.

I leave the two of you tangled in your web of satin comfort.

My heart lost among the wreckage therein

Can either of you still feel it beating against your bare skin?

I take a short walk to sort things out in my head.

Trying to figure out where I went wrong this time.

Well…I’m pretty sure that I left myself open to everyone but me.

Time for me to have a heart to heart with myself.

Look in the mirror and watching the painful tears slide down my cheeks.

Release all the pain and betrayal that I’ve internalized.

Flashbacks of what I’ve seen and what I heard between you

Haunt me as I stroll reflectively toward self confrontation.

I begin to question all of what I thought I knew.

With you, my guard was down almost from the start.

From what she says, I’m pretty sure she felt the same way.

Your thousand watt smile and intelligence gets girls like us.

Normally, I’m expected to come in kicking and screaming.

I’m supposed to swear threaten and cry uncontrollably.

But…if you’ve wandered this far from me…I was mistaken anyway.

I pull tissue from the roll as I sigh, heavy but silent

I retrace my steps from our…your bathroom to the bedroom.

I hear you call her the same as me and embrace reality.

With tears in my eyes already drying, I excuse myself quietly.

You both stare at me wide eyed as I sift through fabric to reclaim my heart.

I nod my goodbye and wish you both the best of luck with that.

The last thing you see of me, my back, you consider retreat.

I am moving on, determined to find someone who I can claim, to refuse to share.

She sits between our feelings, exposed.