Just a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
I was there when she needed me, and I say this with honor. I didn’t expect our friendship to take a romantic turn. And when it did, I made love to her like a soulmate. So much of myself (as a Scorpio) was given to she. I didn’t want anything in return. I just wanted to cherish a friend of mine in ways I couldn’t fantasize about.
When we met, she had a man.
When we met, eye contact had us makin’ love on my loft bed.
Same day, same time, same instant.
We never forgot.
She never forgot (tf?).
I rarely forget shit.
The bitch got possessed by the music we were listening to (I’d share, but you dare) and (she) kicked me out. Dead the remedy was to grab her shoulders and shake Ch’utulu out of her. But she was goooonnnne. So I packed my equipment (after we agreed that I would pay rent based on the money I make from streaming; this was 2019… NiGHTS Mayfield era… jester hat) and went back to Harlem, to VK’s crib.
Somehow, I ended up in Baltimore.
*drKiwi* and I ended up separating. And I was bitter about it. Baddie suffered because of this, Diamond got the last laugh (after all), Original was unfortunately rejected… my vision of a polygamous Atari had fallen.
But it took incarceration in Cali to make me timid about love.
I fucked up.
And though I normally recover from my flubs, some takes are ruined and need to be done over. And depending how deep I’m in, I can’t remember shit.
Heartbreak before you even hear.
Jackie Brown was a helluva movie (the soundtrack dictates my bipolar spectrum) and Simone Biles keeps flipping. I just don’t want to be alone. Jamaica has retreated. Asia is in stealth. White America is traumatized. Latin America is misunderstood. The Hood is making room for me.
I understand my relationship with the races.
All it takes is one.
Like a Grammy.
^
^
^
-so mote it be
