Another Night in Dogtown...>
It’s morning, and I slept the night away. Alone for the umpteenth time. I wouldn’t note it or commentate about it, were it not for the few recent nights I spent, not alone, awake and restless in your bed. Your sleeping habits aren’t unattractive to me, just very abrubt. I learned more about you observing you sleep than I did during our conversations or watching you while you’re awake.
You snatched the covers away, as well as your embrace. The first time I traipsed across the freezing concrete floor to the couch to get another blanket for myself – which you also tried to snatch away. Granted you were sick and had a fever. I hated to wake you up because you looked like a perfect angel…so I didn’t. When you woke up I can imagine exactly what you did – noticed I wasn’t there, thought little of it, as you went to the formerly-empty fridge to heat up the Creole Pasta I made. And just like you said you would, I’m fairly certain you heated it up (if you even took the trouble to do that) then took the entire pot and a fork to your bed and grubbed.
You’re killer.
The second time, you were most likely exhausted. I couldn’t sleep for shit. Too bad I’m not one of those girls who goes on dates and fucks. Maybe I could’ve been worn out by you and caught a few winks. Maybe not. Fact is, that’s all supposition. I know that in one of my trips downstairs to the restroom, I gouged the inside of my knee on your bedframe corner and I had to stifle a scream. Had the worst bruise ever, of my entire life. So bad it’s still lingering in shades of red and yellow, faded from the darkest purple-black I’ve ever seen on my own skin.
When you woke up you sent me a message that you were missing me. Then another asking if I left candy on the counter. I knew, and I did. There were also leftovers in the fridge for you, once again. Call it brunch.
The other night I was shocked to get a text from you with a firm commitment. A date, if you will. 10 o’clock. It pulled at my heartstrings something terrible, gave me that tight feeling in my chest, the itchy palms. 10, 11, 12, 1. Better late than never. 2, I tried to rest. Couldn’t sleep. And you weren’t even there to snatch the covers. 3, got back up and made spaghetti from scratch. Kept messaging you so you’ll know that I’m not the one for you to say one thing then do another. Dude, don’t ever scorn me. 4:26 am…I told you that I can’t see you anymore. I’m not young, I can’t play games or wait around. I’m not a piece of bitch, or one of these snowbunny heiress broads you see taking drugs at the parties you frequent.
The next morning (yours), afternoon (mine) you responded. It’s cool. I had a great night for business.
Of course you did, and you always will. Since that message I’ve seen you more times than I ever saw you when I was hoping we’d end up together. I’ve fed you twice, both times in the car. And even though I explicitly asked you never to touch me again, you’ve insisted on hugs/embraces when you see me and when you leave me.
And although you’re the greatest man alive, in my eyes, and more attractive every time I see you…while your ancestry still stands, your accomplishments are awe-inspiring, your physical frame leaves me breathless, and I can’t stand to reminisce on the hours and hours and hours we spent kissing and in love…I feel nothing.
Don’t take it personal. Somebody already broke my heart. And if you don’t like the size…if you don’t like the fit…you can split…you can quit…you can exit. Anytime.
You snatched the covers away, as well as your embrace. The first time I traipsed across the freezing concrete floor to the couch to get another blanket for myself – which you also tried to snatch away. Granted you were sick and had a fever. I hated to wake you up because you looked like a perfect angel…so I didn’t. When you woke up I can imagine exactly what you did – noticed I wasn’t there, thought little of it, as you went to the formerly-empty fridge to heat up the Creole Pasta I made. And just like you said you would, I’m fairly certain you heated it up (if you even took the trouble to do that) then took the entire pot and a fork to your bed and grubbed.
You’re killer.
The second time, you were most likely exhausted. I couldn’t sleep for shit. Too bad I’m not one of those girls who goes on dates and fucks. Maybe I could’ve been worn out by you and caught a few winks. Maybe not. Fact is, that’s all supposition. I know that in one of my trips downstairs to the restroom, I gouged the inside of my knee on your bedframe corner and I had to stifle a scream. Had the worst bruise ever, of my entire life. So bad it’s still lingering in shades of red and yellow, faded from the darkest purple-black I’ve ever seen on my own skin.
When you woke up you sent me a message that you were missing me. Then another asking if I left candy on the counter. I knew, and I did. There were also leftovers in the fridge for you, once again. Call it brunch.
The other night I was shocked to get a text from you with a firm commitment. A date, if you will. 10 o’clock. It pulled at my heartstrings something terrible, gave me that tight feeling in my chest, the itchy palms. 10, 11, 12, 1. Better late than never. 2, I tried to rest. Couldn’t sleep. And you weren’t even there to snatch the covers. 3, got back up and made spaghetti from scratch. Kept messaging you so you’ll know that I’m not the one for you to say one thing then do another. Dude, don’t ever scorn me. 4:26 am…I told you that I can’t see you anymore. I’m not young, I can’t play games or wait around. I’m not a piece of bitch, or one of these snowbunny heiress broads you see taking drugs at the parties you frequent.
The next morning (yours), afternoon (mine) you responded. It’s cool. I had a great night for business.
Of course you did, and you always will. Since that message I’ve seen you more times than I ever saw you when I was hoping we’d end up together. I’ve fed you twice, both times in the car. And even though I explicitly asked you never to touch me again, you’ve insisted on hugs/embraces when you see me and when you leave me.
And although you’re the greatest man alive, in my eyes, and more attractive every time I see you…while your ancestry still stands, your accomplishments are awe-inspiring, your physical frame leaves me breathless, and I can’t stand to reminisce on the hours and hours and hours we spent kissing and in love…I feel nothing.
Don’t take it personal. Somebody already broke my heart. And if you don’t like the size…if you don’t like the fit…you can split…you can quit…you can exit. Anytime.
posted by WALASIA "MJ" SHABAZZ @ 10:44 AM
2 Comments:
this girl has got a way with words
this is dope. Intricate, personal, and intelligent without being pretentious...great read...need...more.
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