May the strings make you smile, May they always remind you of me
When others merely had one song (maybe two), he had an entire playlist. Dozens of songs that made him come to mind, make him hard to forget. With each change of tempo, each inflection of tone, chord progression, whisper, or guttural groan.
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I’m not sure if I truly understand the ways of man…
Or maybe of those without mended wounds.
I wanted to turn me into an “us”, if just
for a brief moment where we could explore
our lust or shared desires.
But at the time that was ours, the interlude
was over before it could ever begin, so I think
were we ever supposed to be a thing?
Maybe we were best suited for our roles
before the whole ordeal — two people so wrapped
up in our heads that only others like ourselves
could possibly comprehend the many voices
which live within.
And even after our “never been” came to an end,
I still wanted for us to be friends.
But the distance that always existed only persisted
and it was as though we once again lived on the same
planet but in different universes.
I get it — women tend to be difficult to read,
but I was a book with the pages willfully exposed,
waiting for a reader to bring each chapter to a close.
And though our possibility has been tossed into the category
of ‘what could’ve been,” I’d still like to know within you
lies a friend.
(originally posted Jan. 7, 2017)
Could it be? Have ah truly returned to this here ol’ blog thingy-ma-jiggy? I reckon’ I have, babe!
It’s officially been over four years since I last shared some words with the world on this here site. Four years, y’all. If it was a child, it would be able to tell you that it wanted to have Chic-Fil-A for lunch and let everyone on the line know that you were wearing a wig. That’s how long it’s been.
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I consistently find myself in these awkward situations
amused by seemingly promising and provoking conversations
then left in a state of silent infatuation
degraded,
deflated.
I’ve opened Pandora’s box and find the lid too heavy to shut
second guessing,
ever questioning,
the mixed feelings and anxiety wrestling restlessly in my gut.
Stalking,
gawking,
looking for some glimmer of a response, a clue, to find
what’s going on to give a little ease to the thoughts in my mind
hoping to put these puzzle pieces in a straight line.
Confused,
at first amused, but now bemused
I refuse to be in this trapping contraption
attracted by attention and undone by dejection
waiting for the other shoe to drop – or should I say
flip-flop.
Phasing,
getting ready to start the process of fading,
putting memories into the furthest recesses for bating
as I can no longer provide energy to keep concentrating
on my infallible ability to attract derogating.
No more debating.
No more waiting,
tired of being the patient to this impatient torture of never knowing what lies beneath
just to learn there’s nothing below the surface that I seek.
Tired of being the mouse-turn-cat in this chase
just to end up losing the race.
This time I’m resigning from the game before the stakes get to high
no poker face
no saving grace
I fold and leave without the little tid-bits I’ve already sold.
Some days I wonder to myself
“What’s the use?”
the back and forth’s been
going around in circles
and we can never get to a
point of parallel lines –
going forward with no
inteferring intersection.
It’s humorous how time
can make barely existing
troubles stew into
never ending shouting matches –
dreams disappear and from
the shadow of doubt
nightmares take its place.
Why do we bother?
What love do we have to keep us
united when silence slowly
tears us apart and we both don’t
care to mutter words to keep it
together.
What we once had was beautiful,
but it seems almost impossible
to recover, it seems like
“Once Upon A Time,” we were
requited lovers.
But now, the dust has settled
and what we had feels lost.
The stars are going and maybe
it’s time we finally made our lives
uncrossed.
I don’t ask for much.
Give me some time, any moment you can spare.
Give me some attention, so I won’t have to share.
Just a kiss or two when you’re standing close.
Just the trail of your finger going down my nose.
I don’t ask for flowers – I don’t care for roses.
I don’t ask for love letters – I don’t need your proses.
I don’t ask for much.
I don’t need dinners at fancy restaurants.
Your arms wrapped around me is all I can want.
Your hands on my stomach as we go off to sleep.
Your laughter in my ear as we watch some TV.
I don’t ask for rings- jewelry is not my thing.
I don’t ask for money – I don’t cost a thing.
I don’t ask for much.
Just hold on real tight and don’t let me go.
Kiss my neck and nibble on my earlobe.
Hold my hand when we walk down the street.
Give me your lap whenever I need a seat.
I don’t ask for your name – I’ve got my own.
I don’t ask for any toys – I’m way too grown
I ask for your lips, so that I can have them to kiss.
I ask for your heart, so I know that I’m missed.
I ask for arms, so I can keep your embrace.
I ask for your eyes, and the contours of your face.
I ask for your skin, your voice and the wonder of it all.
I ask for you during spring, winter, summer and fall.
There’s a guy you’re attracted to. He’s funny, sharp, well-groomed and (the best part) he’s seemingly into you. You can feel your attraction to him growing after only one conversation. Your body is reacting, giving you all the signals that you want to move things to the next step. Do you?
Most female friends I know would protest a strong “no,” saying that sex with a guy on the first night is a surefire way to demonstrate that you have no form of self-respect. But does it really mean you have no self-respect, or you don’t respect what society expects of women when meeting men?
I remember watching shows like Girlfriends where Joan Clayton (played by Tracee Ellis Ross) would not sleep with a guy she was dating until the three-month mark. Among my inner circle of girlfriends, there were similar proclamations: “I won’t have sex until after the third date” or “I have sex after a month.” While I can acknowledge their choices to reserve sex until a regimented period of time, I always wonder, what exactly are we looking for in this guy before we give up the goods?
The old adage “he’ll never buy the ice cream truck when you’re giving out the popsicles for free” comes to mind when I think of it all and the double-sided stigma that is placed on women in society. If you have sex with a guy right away, you may be looked down upon because you’re not supposed to have sex with a guy you’ve only know for a few minutes. This woman is not looked at as a sexually liberated, empowered woman who knows what she wants and takes charge of a potentially rewarding situation. Oh no. Men are the ones allowed and even rewarded for having sex with multiple women in one day after only one chance encounter.
Is it the fact that we have more to lose than men do? Think about it. If you slept with a guy you had an actual interest in (not just a one-night stand) after a few hours and a pregnancy resulted from that, he would be free to walk away, while you would have to figure out how to rearrange your entire life.
Sure, hormones and alcohol may be tripping up the senses, but I suggest waiting game! If you spend more time learning about your partner, then you may have an idea of where his head was at in the event of something sexual happening between you two. You’d know if he was in it for the long haul or if he was just looking for a new partner for cuffing season. It makes sense to make a guy wait, but at the end of the day, do you still know him enough to spend a night with him? You could sleep with him after three months and then learn that he has two wives in another city of five baby mamas…
At the end of the day, only you can really know when you’re ready to take that step with a guy. If you feel a connection, go for it. But if you want to take your time, you’re within your right to. Vixens, what is your personal deciding factor of when it comes to taking a guy to bed and when do you know that you’ve reached that threshold? –Afiya Augustine
She came over to my apartment, and I couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. We’d been dating for some weeks and I have to admit that I really like her. I’ve always liked her really. I’d known her for a while, but just never really had the nerve to ask her on a date. When I did, we hit things off so well that it only made sense to keep dating. When she kissed me, I knew that I didn’t want to stop kissing her. And the way she looked at me – some kind of twinkle in her eye, biting her bottom lips and a blush on her cheeks – just only reassured me that I was right to ask her out again. Continue reading
This poem is a response to a piece I read called “Thought from a Spotfilled Mind.” My poem doesn’t do the original justice, but enjoy anyway.
I was thinking of you today.
I know, it such a ‘girl thing’ to say, but it’s true.
To be honest I was thinking about you looking at me that way you do…all filled with your silently manly love.
I was thinking of you looking at me.
It’s pretty damn often that I do this.
I was thinking of a way to possibly keep you in that glance for forever and a lifetime. I love that look on your face.
I want you to remain in that space.
I’d have it no other way. I want you to stay. I want you to want me to stay.
I want to lay with you, play with you. I want you to suggest sex at the most inappropriate time just to make me agitated. I want you to roll your eyes and look away when I talk about gaining weight (that I probably didn’t gain in the first place). I want you to walk past me in your football tee during the season and ignore me during the game. Then when it’s over tell me you love me just the same. I want to lay in bed and push my booty up against you. Then I want to feel your morning wood on my ass and pretend to be disgusted. “You guys can’t ever get enough?!” I’d say. Then you’d reply “Don’t blame me, we’re just made that way.” I want to watch you while you sleep. I want to wrap my arms around you while I’m asleep. I want to cry on your chest on days I can’t take anything anymore. Then hog the covers on days you get me really sore. And on days you’re sick, listen to how loud you snore. My poor baby. I want you to comfort me. I want you to come for me. I want to watch you scratch your chest when you wake up. I want to hear you yawn when you’re ready to sleep. I want to burp like a guy and see your look of pride. I want to ask a question that’ll make you run and hide. I want to laugh with you. Even when the jokes aren’t that funny. I want to catch you looking at some kind of porn. Then hide the fact that I’m secretly turned on.I want to get mad at you when you look at another girl and put your arm around me to assure me I’m the only one. I want to yell at you when you don’t wash your dishes. I want to hold your hand when I shop for pads. I want to occasionally hint you that someday you’ll be a great dad. I want you to rub my stomach when I have cramps. I want you to get turned on watching me lick stamps. I want to collapse on top of you after great sex. I want to have sex when you get mad at me so you’ll forget. I want to get mad at you when I think you forgot a special day. Then I want to blush when you send me flowers for no reason. I want you to slap my ass when you pass me by in the kitchen. I want you to rub my exposed legs when we’re eating out with friends. I want to see you throw your hands up in the air when you know you’re losing the fight. I want to see you at night. Every night. For the rest of our lives. I want to watch you drive around in circles when you won’t admit you need directions. And then see the look of joy on your face when we get to our destination. I want to order beers for you. I want to say prayers for you. I want to keep you safe. I want you see you rush in the morning when you’re late. I want to smile for you. I want to smile because of you. I want to get in lingerie for you. I want to end my day with you. I want to mate with you. Create with you. Have babies for you and raise those babies with you. I want to look at your face, amazed at the miracle I couldn’t have done without you. I want to sing for you. Put a ring on you. I want to be everything for you. I want to be your best friend. I want to be your lover. I wan to be so good to you, you forget your mother. I want to be with you. In you. I want to be so wrapped up in love with you that you see me when you look at the letters on a page. I want you to close your eyes and see my face. I want to go there baby with you. I want you to be here with me too. Lord there’s so much more I can say, but I was thinking about this when I thought of you today…
“I want to make him mine. For forever and a day or two. I want to be able to wake up in the mornings with my ruffled hair tucked away under his chin. I want to feel that heat generated on my right shoulder from the left hand that held it all night long. I want to be the one who rubs his legs with my thighs every morning. The one receiving kisses on the forehead when he’s about to say ‘Good Morning,’ and the one whispering soft ‘I Love You’s in his ear. I want him to love me. The way he loved all those girls before with that passion that burns so bright, it drives the inner darkness away.”
“I want him to love me so much, that it hurts just a smidge to say goodbye; love me so much in the same way that I love him. From the lashes on his eyes, the stud in his ear, the shape of his lips, and the hairs on his chin. From the build of his chest, the look of his belly button and the length of his legs. I bet you were thinking I was going to say something else. But you see I love him past the usual physical things that people associate with love. And that’s how I want him to love me.”
“I want him to love me no matter what- Spring, Summer, Winter and Fall. Through it all. I want him to not only love me, but to be in love with me. So in love that when he writes the word, his name is in the middle of it. So in love with me, that no matter how I look, no matter how many of his babies I have, I will always remain eternally glowing. And I will be ever-flowing with love for him.”
-2007
w/love,
-alja
AljaTheWriter 