Malinda's Room Pt 2

I saw you all hugged up, on a chick on your facebook. Oh so I guess thats your way of telling me,  fuck me (literally and figuratively). I have been up for a week, angry getting no sleep. Nightmares plague me, I am so scared of losing you. Vengeance goes through my head, I think about hurting you, no matter what I say, you just don't seem to care. She could never love you like me, she could never touch you like me, she could never understand you. Fuck this new chick, that you lust so much, you perpetrate like you love her so much. The only thing she can offer you, is that sex you love. When I put my heart right in your hands, and you threw it right back in my face. How can I forgive you? When I never claimed you? But I truly wanted you? I even prayed to have you? It hurts so bad. The way you trying to play me. She aint got nothing on me. Baby look in my eyes, and tell me you dont feel the same way. Tell me you're not feeling me. Tell me you don't miss me. I thought if you knew better, you do better, but it looks like you scraping the bottom of the crab barrell. I threw my pussy at you, put my self on blast. Then you shut me down, in front of our mutual friends. Fuck this chick that you lust so much, when it's quite clear that you're not in love. She could never be me, I mean look at me. Pretty, hot, tempting...Put it on a platter for you. So why are you fronting on me?

Malinda's Room

Your eyes say it all, your lips speak whispers. Wrapping your emotional arms around my heart. Distant kisses caress my face and neck. I stated the obvious, but you denied me, and lied to me so now I have resentment. Every email, every text, every phone call, or message gave me mini heart palpitations, murmurs, and ripples. I had something to look forward to. Gave me something priceless, the will to love again. I swallowed my pride, held my head high, turned myself inside out so my feelings could speak. Opened the door to my room. A special place, invite only, open policy, I want you to own me. Cover me in love, like kisses. Fill me up, I'm running on empty. So when you tell me you're not feeling me. This room grows cold, icicles grow, I can see every breath I take. Now I'm frustrated. Why are you even here, just leave me alone. My room is now locked. You must not know, a good thing when u see one. I never had a problem finding love, it's finding the right love, that's the problem. When you know better, you do better. And frankly, I've been settling. Now I see a good thing, the last breed and he doesn't want me. That's what your mouth says, but everybody sees it differently.
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Forget the 5th Date

Yes. I'm feeling these vibes transcending between us, letting off bulbs of radiant fire and energy. The aura is unmistakably sensual as the more time we spend together, the closer and more connected we are. I want this to last as long as God wills it, blesses it, and encourages it. I don't want to give it up, ruin it, stain it with a rogue red I can't get rid of. I want us to stay purified and white, full of innocent love, a bond that can not be broken. Forget the 5th date, it does not set anything in stone, that after 5 dates we have a love that is guaranteed. Forget the 5th date, this number 5 does not mean you are the one for me and I am the one for you. 5 dates simply mean we are having fun, connecting and sharing. Why not wait until we know for a fact that our love is for real, so real we profess it before God, His disciples, in His house. Why not wait until that date. The date when I know for a fact you are pure, loving, your spirit is right and I can let you enter without contaminating me with inner demons lying dormant and afraid. 5 dates does not tell us if I am the missing chain to your internal cage, the one that was conceived and put on this earth just for you and you for me. Let us pray a little longer, connect tighter, and let this love bloom naturally.
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Mistress No More

This is turning deeper than a fling. It was only supposed to be pleasure,kicks and no pain. Our dirty little secret, hidden from the world, it was supposed to be a one time thing. Then it turned into a weekend trend, and we both became greedy, turning it weekly. I didn't expect us to become addicted to each other...You had to see me every chance you got, turning me into a business trip, a client consultation, a impromptu meeting. Every lie she fell for it. I told myself to stop, this isn't right, I'm wrong. But I found myself weak to you, in your arms again. I tried everything to keep you away. I even admitted and professed that I was in love with you. And I could have died when you confessed that you loved me back. I was sick of hiding, lying, and creeping. Sick of being a part time lover. Waking up alone, sleeping alone, eating dinner alone,celebrating alone. Tired of meeting you in odd places where you would never run into anyone you or your wife mutually knew. Bookstores, out of town museums, clients' timeshares, the beach house she knows nothing about. No matter how good you make me feel, I still feel disgusting, slimy and used. I am no more than a prostitute. Why? Ever so often you transfer money to my account, we never talk...Of course you talk about her and what she lacks. But before this we were friends. We talked about the world, how we could change it and politics. The court of law and it's fairness. Now our bodies do the talking. Your draining me emotionally and spiritually. I can't be your mistress anymore. I won't allow you to use me like a urinal. Do all the things physically she won't do but come home to authentic love. I'm done. I'm your mistress no more.
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Dear Father

Dear Father,

Oh how I love you, I can't even count the ways. You are just my everything. I need you to make it in this world. You have covered me through so much I have done. Foolish mistakes I have made, lousy choices, crazy options. Yet you loved me harder and got me way out of it. Just want to tell how much I love you and appreciate you. If I wasn't for you being on my side, where would I be. You won't even let certain men that I think are right for me, get next to me. I love you for that! You place people in my life that are good to me and for me. Although lessons you let give them to me for a reason. You gave me a wonderful heart. A kind heart. But the wisdom you give me is soooo amazing! I love it! Father you are my everything. I look back and I compose myself because I give you all the praise. Your mercy, your love is so everlasting! No matter how deep I fall you pick me up again. The only Father that has never let me down. Wow! Never lied to me. Look at this beautiful world you created. You are awesome. I love you Father. Thank You.
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Wedding Cake Blues

If I sit at one more wedding. Stand as one more bride's maid. Try to catch one more bouquet. Dance awkardly with another groomsmen. If I receive one more wedding invite. Wedding registry. If one more person ask me what am I waiting for? I am going to scream. Yes I have dreams of a pretty all white wedding, with beautiful pink and white roses, and tearful vows, and dancing with my father, and a big beautiful wedding cake with whipped frosting, and champagne that flows endlessly. I dream of my handsome, strong, hubby taking off my garter and peeking at my sexy undies. Because you know he can't hardly wait any longer. I dream of throwing the bouquet, trying to aim it and toss it at that right angle for my bestie to catch. These are my dreams, and I want my dreams to come true. So I give God control of choosing my match. I'm just sick of these batches of questions I'm being asked constantly. Damn. I'm only in my twenties. Stop badgering me. What's the rush? Why do you want me married so quickly? I want the marriage, not the wedding.
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Literary Romance

Laying on the floor writing peaces in my notepad. Soft rhythms float across the room, I can almost see music notes flying, swaying in an imaginary wind. You pluck your guitar strings, I stroke my pen across my pad. It's like we're dancing. Last night's memory makes me stroke harder, my heart beats faster, My eyes starts water. What did I do to deserve a blessing like you. Fingertips brush across my face, showing me you can relate, to the appreciation I feel for my Love. We began to create music, straight from the depths our souls, our audience shall behold. You the play the guitar harder, and hummm softly, I write faster, snap my fingers, nod my head, close my eyes. We just made beautiful music. Me made love in the artistic sense. Our literary romance.
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Ode to the Surrogate Father

The surrogate father is the father who steps in the place of the absentee father. These men are the most brave, kind and makes the most sacrifice. They put their needs aside for a child that does not share their bloodline. Surrogate fathers step in when no one will. They don't see children as a problem, a priority, they see children as innocent littl human beings that need guidance from a strong, positive lead. They are not perfect people, who make perfect choices but they make sure children learn from their mistakes. The surrogate father is a blessing because he doesn't have to be your stepfather. He could be your uncle, Godfather, Cousin, Pastor, Mentor, Counselor. Father does not just mean someone your mother was married to or got her pregnant with you. It is the man that stood beside you and behind you. Taught you and was always there for you. So do not be bitter on this Father's Day for lack of a biological father. Smile and praise God for the one who stood in his place.
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Ice Cream Lips

Sweet, cold, refreshing ice cream. Spoonful in my mouth, taste buds explodes, foodgasm erupts. Chunks of black cherries fill me up. Lips are now sticky sweet, still cold and I can still taste the sweet cream. In the back of my throat, tastes of black cherry floats. I was hot, annoyed, and mad. Now I'm cool, sweet, happy, and smiling. I feel like flying, writing and singing. Heartfelt words swim from my heart and drip off my sweet ice cream coated lips.
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To Be Unified

So tired of being approached by brothas with the world on their shoulders, dragging heavy luggage, broken hearts and vulnerability. So tired of them trying to leech off of my energy. So tired of brothas trying to wear me down with their problems during the first phone convo, I give them advice but they seek more. So tired of sharing my bad days expecting sweet words and assurance, to only get apologies or silence. Needy men, boys, babies looking for a mother and not their equal, have temper tantrums when you explain to them that you don't want them. You need a real man, a strong man and you shake your head sadly when they ask you to mold them into that man. I need my man to represent his position as dominant, a spiritual lead and when he feels faint to I can give him strength as his rib. I need my man to hold me, keep me safe, physically, emotionally, spiritually. When I have days pray with me and for me, love me unconditionally. Show me how deep love can be. Cause me to fall so deep in love, I wouldn't care if I married him in a bath house. To need him not only physically but literally. As if our hearts beat as one. Unify me.
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Reserved Space in my Heart

I kept a special place in my heart for you. I just knew we built a foundation of chemistry that could move within the atmosphere. A friendship bond so strong, a seed of a flower of love could bloom from. I imagined laughter, songs, psalms, proverbs, and fresh water. Cold winter nights in your arms, and warm summer days walking through the park. I imagined a village full of beautiful dark skinned children, with their mother's lips and daddy's eyes. But I'm beginning to feel these dreams are empty and a waste of time. We don't talk anymore, the little conversations we have are few and far between. I know someone has caught your eye, and painfully your heart. I'm so tired of waiting, I feel like I'm wasting away on someone else's time. I'm beautiful, intelligent, prophetic and poetic. I have a love that is magnificent, refreshing and healthy. But he doesn't want mine. I put my sweet, silky love on a diamond studded priceless platter, complete with all the fixings. A full plate of delicacies that will keep him well nourished and healthy. My God tells me the only space in your heart that needs to be reserved is for me. I agree. But I just knew he was the one for me, that he would love me like Christ loved the church. You deserve better He said, someone that can complement you, smile with you, and not push you away. And the Holy Spirit loved me.
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Early Bird

I love waking up in the morning. The sun is bright and welcoming. Birds greet me as I step out the door. Smiling children skipping off to school, wave at me. The smiling old woman with the long white hair greets me as she is sweeping off her porch. I love watching the men on their way to work. Blue collar, white collar, chef uniforms, I even see the young hustler with sagging pants standing on his corner. Crisp white ironed shirts, nice silk ties, creased slacks and polished shoes. I see daddies walking their baby girls to school. Mamas on the bus got their son by the hand "Don't you scuff them shoes playing today" she says. I smell the bittersweet aroma of exotic coffee beans, sweet chocolate mocha frappaccino topped with fresh whipped cream. I smell the fresh ink of the morning paper, hot off the press, delivered fresh just before dawn. I watch people intently read, wanting to know what is going on in their back yards. I hear horns blowing in traffic, high heels tapping, coworkers laughing, and the wino sitting on the bench ice cold bottle of wine cracking. I see the couple I see daily on my commute embracing. Sharing coffee and whispering in each other's ears, his lady blushing. I taste my hot buttered plain bagel slathered with cream cheese, and the sweet teasing taste of my tall caramel latte. I smile as I walk by other students, employees, and other pedestrians. I thank God for these beautiful days. Amen.
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Dinner Date

We just finished the appetizer and here I am with my hips in his hands, my back on the table, and my heels in the air. Dishes lay in heaps on the floor, cracked, broken, shattered everywhere. The glasses, those expensive glasses I admired when I first sat down. Crystal. They were crystal, expensive goblets and I watched in awe as the wine swirled against the shiny glass, red against clear, almost mirror like. Well, they was no more. Wine was splattered against the wall, glass was in the mix with the dishes, and what was left of our salad was...Well lettuce was floating in the air, and tomatoes were squished and squashed on the table. If I wasn't so busy moaning, gasping, and cursing I would have been giggling at the mess he made. We were discussing politics, laughing about a movie that was released ten years ago, and we became heavily engrossed in cultural things. We talked about hunting, fishing and sailing, and then we swapped reviews on plays. I said "Shakespeare", and a half second later I was lifted in the air. Dress torn, panties ripped, hair undone, I see one arm go across the table, and next thing I know a loud crash. But he wasn't finished dining yet, if you get my drift. I lift my head up and I see a smorgasboard of china, crystal, and red wine mixed. Splattered against the nearest wall, and I feel heat rising, and my heart beating, my legs trembling.......

The Most Painful Rejection Ever

Invigorating like a breath of fresh air that blew through an open window. Heartbeat shaky from nervousness as the convo flows like warm blood through your veins. Long lashes flutter, dirty thoughts through your mind. Lips pucker up, hold wine glass to your throat. But he still won't bite. Move slowly. Hips swish along with the knee length ruche dress you wear. He mentioned his favorite color. Blue. So you wore a blue dress. Stilettoes tap tap across the floor. All eyes on you. Except for his. You talk. You submit to his conversation. Whatever he likes you show interest. Whatever you like. He questions. You offer a night cap. He doesn't bite. You don't know why. You suck on a mint. Check your makeup. Your hair. You're perfect. But not in his eyes. Maybe your not his type. Or.....A young man walks through the restaurant doors. Young. Ripe. Boyish face. Innocent eyes. His eyes lands on the boy's lucious ripe mouth. past his chin and settles on his love below. Now you know. You politely ask for the check. Pay your half of the bill. And excuse yourself.