inmywords

More Unfinished Love Letters

I knew you weren’t the one because when we kissed my eyes stayed open,
Watching you to see if you really could feel everything that I didn’t.
You did.
The signs were clear.
Staying awake at night as you held me in your sleep, asking myself if your happiness meant more to me than my own.
It didn’t.
You called me selfish in our departure. Tossing other hurtful daggers out of the second floor of the apartment we once shared. As well as my clothes.
Down fell I hate you’s and Victoria’s Secret boy shorts in the same gust of wind.
You win.
I thought you said those were your favorite.
I really don’t have the energy to fight, I remember that one night with a liquor soaked tongue you said I made you wrap your fingers meticulously around my neck. Followed by passionate “forgive me” sex. It’s okay, I whispered.
It wasn’t.
The fault wasn’t all yours, I’ll admit. Some girlfriends duties, I looked as pleasures others as chores. I only wanted to be loved, I never said I want to be committed. My wandering eye would get the best of me and as it found its way back into focus I’d see… you,
In our condo on the outskirts of the city with no lights, food spoiling in a powerless refrigerator. Your bright eyes and helpless smile told me you would’ve given me the world if you could and I hated myself for never being satisfied with “if”.
I tried.

Snippet

I was awaken by a gentle shove, opening my eyes and saw the early morning sunrise peaking it’s way through the gaps in my red floor length curtains. Upset that I wasn’t being allotted my usual 10 hours of sleep, then I heard the familar deep, rough but cultivating voice behind the wake up call. “Get up. Take a shower.” He called over his shoulder as he walked out of my room and closed the door, his tone was a commanding one. He wasn’t suggesting, he was telling me. This being the first time he had uttered anything to me besides ‘pass the salt’ in the last couple of days, I didn’t ask any questions and did what I was told. Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped up in a towel and flopped on my bed to hopefully rest my eyes for a more seconds while waiting for my next set of instructions. Before I could drift off completely, I felt his lips making a beeline from my collarbone to my ear, the scuffiness of his beard tickling the nape of my neck. “You’re wearing the Chanel No. 5, I brought you. You smell nice.” His voice much more charming than before, this was the man I fell in love with, since our latest arguement he’d gone missing. I smiled at the sentiment, remembering the day trip we took to the city holding hands, shopping at every store that would tolerate our obnoxious laughter and shameless PDA. Pushing to the back of my mind that, this memory seemed more distant than it actually was. I removed my towel and tossed it to the floor, and he matched my movements pressing my body against his and he laid on top of me. Kissing me softly at first then harder, his warm mouth tasted like mint toothpaste, until I couldn’t stand the thought of going another second without him inside me. Like the mind reader he always is he slid it in, causing me to gasp for air and grip tighter on his back. The intensity of his stroke increasing with the sound my moans. In the middle of heavy breathing and deep sighs of extascy he leans in and whispers, “I hate you, bitch.”

More To Life

I gotta figure out what I’m doing.

I know there’s more to life than the dirty clothes laying on my bedroom floor in my mother’s house, like a sea of constant reminders that this isn’t what I thought 18 would look like.

I’m drowning.

By now I should’ve been in my own loft in the middle of the city. With a view overlooking the skyline, a view exquisite enough that it whispered to me just as the night clocked in for it’s shift. “The world is yours.”

Or, at least I know there’s more to life than the six dollars sitting in my wallet, all that’s left over after paying what my family calls “the dues of adulthood”. By now, I should be half past rich, this earth my playground to do with it what I may. The finest linens on my king-sized bed, real oak floors for my hallways, a couple of bitchy foreign maids to do the chores.

There’s more to my existence than wallowing in this rut. Every time I utter those words I get the same pain in my gut. My mouth waters, ‘cause I feel the nausea tipping toeing around the dark corners.

It’s stalking me.

I feel stuck. And, there’s nothing holding me back but myself. I am the master of my own ship, and I will get from life what I demand of it. If I crash, let me crash. Let my fate not be determine by another man, but by my own overly detailed and perfectly executed plan.

I don’t know much… I mean, my grades only kind of suck. I’m only trying to make it in this world, where a college degree is a must. Whilst, simultaneously being impregnated with a dream.

It’s kicking.

I just know there’s something bigger inside me waiting to crawl out. There’s something beautiful inside me, that I have to draw about. There’s more to life than what is happening right now. And, to the future I raise my ‘brow.

Skeptical, about what is to come. Hopeful, that my job here is not yet done.

Overreacting.

My mom used to tell me when I was younger that whenever I reacted so terribly to something mean my sister had done to me, it distracted her attention from the original problem and made her have to focus on punishing me for overreacting so badly.

That is how I feel about Republicans who hate Obama. They have overreacted so ridiculously to everything about Obama, that even if he was doing something we should be concerned about, no one would notice because they are too distracted focusing on how badly the Republicans are acting about it!

Before Obama was elected, I remember people telling me they thought Obama was the antichrist. And I was just like really?..REALLY??..that’s the opinion you are going to choose to share? 4 years later..Obama still isn’t the antichrist, but the Republican attitude has only gotten worse.

For The Sake of my Art

Someone break my heart, so I can start writing, again.

Anyone, just do it quickly and drastically,

Let me tell you I love you a hundred times, so that you can say it back once sarcastically.

Make me fall in love, so I can walk around delusional and dazed, eyes glazed, like I’m strung out on your drug,

And you’re injecting my body with higher doses, with each turn of the calendar days, I’m amazed, returning for more and then I want you to brush me with off a simple shrug,

Break me into an infinite amount of pieces, so that I rebuild myself through my own words and long, depressing nights that seem to have no end.

Hurt me so badly, I have no choice but spell out your gory and detailed death in my poetry, 

So tragically, the only recent, pleasant memories I have are from when the one that caused this suffering, was holding me.

I want you to dig your nails into the cavity of my chest, where my heart resides,

Snatching the organ that you used to own and bury it where the sun will never again shine,

Because, without an earth-shattering heartbreak, my writing won’t thrive.

I am a defective creature and I don’t work well when I’m happy, only when I’m tortured and my pain overlaps me.

Destroy me, employ me and make me your slave,

Have me so enthralled in my hatred, that years after the demise of our union, I’m still dancing on its grave.

I’ll open up for you, I’ll even hand you a scalpel.

I’ll show you the already battered heart that beats for you, and when you begin to demolish it, I’ll pretend to be baffled.

You will tell all of your friends how naive and stupid of a girl, I really was,

I’ll just be tasting my salty tears, on my bathroom floor, with a pen in my hand and a lock of the door.

Smiling, because my writer’s block is over and I sacrificed for the sake of love.

Not the love I had for you, or even myself, but love I have for the ability to illustrate every single soul piercing stab I felt.

So, I’m begging you please, for one favor…

Just break my heart, if not for me, do it for the sake of my art.

Dear Auntie Pam,

After your long fight to make it through your favorite holiday, today was the day you left us. Christmas will never be the same. Just like it felt wrong in 2008, even though i didn’t yet “know” you were passing.

You were the greatest treasure I have found on this earth. No person can match your sparkling smile, your even temper, your ability to make everything fun, your devotion to helping me be me. You will forever have a place in my heart, and I only wish you could be here to be a part of these next couple of years with us. Big things are coming: Mya’s graduation. My college graduation. Maybe a wedding someday soon. I know you wish, maybe more than us, that you could have stuck around for these events that you had talked about and planned since we were born.

I know you are proud of me. I know you’re proud I went to New York. I know you’re proud I’ve changed my plans since it makes me happier. I know you love the man I am dating. I know you can’t wait to see my new, alice in wonderland decorated apartment. Thank you for loving me and understanding me and encouraging me to always be myself because you “love that person.” Thank you for now being my guardian angel, that twinkling star always overhead, the soul saving that perfect space for me in heaven, right next to you. You are always in my heart and thoughts.

Requiescat in pace et in amore. May she rest in peace and love<3.

Kids these days,

Kids these days.
All I hear them talk about is kids these days.
Can’t see the sun ‘cause the sky is so gray.
And I’m tryna make a way, tryna make a change.
My nephew told me they were picking on his shoes, so I brought him some new jewels.
To go with his invisible crown, so that maybe one day he can see that he’s a king.
Really start to sing, really spread his wings.
All they seem to talk about is kids these days, kids these days.
Can’t see the sun ‘cause the sky is all gray.
Parents lost their heritage due to assimilation,
Barely getting love from the church’s congregation.
Chit chatting about Instagram and Facebooking,
Who’s music is hot and who’s good lookin’?
But I’m tryna see a change in my people. We’re divided as a nation, public assistance got us waitin’.
Complacent, not focused on empowerment but EBT limitations.
And all we ever wanted to be was young, rich & famous.
All they wanna talk about is kids these days, kids these days.
Can’t see the sun ‘cause the sky is too gray.

I wrote an entire post about how much I hated you. Then, I realized something half way through, you’re not worth my beautiful words… the words you used to cherish, the words you use to beg to read, the words you used visit my blog daily for when you were “done with me”.

But, now, I’m done with you.

And none of those words hold true.

Take Care,

Bloo

It

I was recovering, but now I don’t want to write, I don’t want to think, I don’t want to live, I just want to exist until everything is exactly how I picture it in my day dreams. Because writing, thinking, and living means feeling, and I was far too content with just being numb. I relapsed this weekend and suddenly… I’m just filled with all these emotions. All this love, all this longing, all this hate, all this lust, all this angst, all this drive, all this hurt, all this alcoholic and drug induced joy… I’m overflowing with all these feelings. Feelings that make my judgement foggier, I’m unsure of what is right and wrong, I’m only aware of what feels good. And, it feels amazing. The same it that I praise even though, it’s walked out on me countless times, the same it that I begged to come back to me, the same it that I spent weeks aching and crying for, uncontrollably, the same it that has publicly betrayed me several times, the same it that doesn’t deserve to kiss the ground I walk on… but, I want it. I miss it, I love it. It’s poisonous to my happiness, but when am I ever happy without it? It’s my first addiction before the cigarettes. And, I need just another hit. Or maybe a couple more.

Take Care,

Bloo

2012

I’ve managed to find my way out of drunken haze to write to you. I don’t know much about you yet, considering we just met and few hours ago we were merely strangers. Everyone is saying bad things about you already but I know I can’t take their words and I must first experience you for myself, but I’d like to make the first move and say “Hello”. You don’t know much about my past and I’d like to keep it that way, I feel that those events are seemingly irrelevant to the story we’re about to create. I plan to be good to you, better than all those that came before you, and that’s all I’d like to disclose to you at this time. I expect nothing at all from you I’m just hoping that you are good to me, as well and as the seconds pass, I feel like you just might. We’ve only got 364 more days to make history, so let’s enjoy this ride.

Take Care,

Bloo

I Miss The Old Me

I miss the writer, who wrote poetry and life-inspired stories effortlessly every night with raw emotion as her only motivation. As of late, it seems I have time for every other thing and that makes me ask myself, am I really cut out for being this exquisitely chic novelist, sharing my stories and fantasies with young teen-aged girls who will experience all that I have endured in my tragic young adult years. I haven’t picked up a book in months… not very author-like, in the least bit. I question myself, everyday, and it breaks my spirit more and more.

I miss feeling, regardless if that severe feeling was anguish and hurt. At least I felt something, even if that pain was the most extraordinary trauma I’ve ever felt. I feel nothing now, but I have every opportunity to feel everything. I crave the feeling of love. I want to love. I want to be so submerged in love that I have to concentrate on simple task like brushing my teeth. I want to love so fully, that I’m so dependent on his life, I have trouble breathing without his presence. I’m so desperate to love, I’ll even accept a deal in which I’m not loved back. But, I can’t. And I honestly don’t think I ever will, again.

I miss the old you, most of all. The only part of me, that was the most pure. You were my muse for my art, the faint ray of sunlight in the gloomy storm, the comic relief in the tragedy that was my story. I loved you more than anything. Your old face was the only reason, I was thankful I opened my eyes on most mornings. Your old voice was the only reason, I pleased I wasn’t suddenly deaf-stricken. Your old you, was the reason I lived.

But, you’ve changed and you’re no longer familiar.

A stranger in my heart who won’t allow visitors.

Take Care in there,

Bloo

2010

So, I’m guessing this is the time of the night we raise our glasses, be nostalgic and thank our lucky stars? We make resolutions saying how we’re now going to be more assertive, focused, and care-free. We all say, come tomorrow there are going to be changes, big changes at that. All these unrealistic promises about how we’re going lose weight, stop smoking, and drink less. Screw all that to bloody hell. This year was…. it could have been better. I experienced and learned tons of things, I am so eternally grateful for. I fell in love a couples of times, got into some trouble, became very acquainted with Mary Jane, got piercings and tattoos, fell out of love a couple times more, been used, stopped drinking, lost my best friends, found my life’s passion, turned 17, had sex in cars, cried more times than I can count, gave a couple of guys a night they’ll never forget, been heart broken, got my best friends back, lost another, listened to some of the best music ever made, gained an outstanding sense of style, picked up a smoking habit, became abstinent, found myself and I’m happy with all that monstrous bullshit, some more than others… but I’m happy.

So, this my ode to you, 2010… no resolutions, no predictions.

Just a big fuck you, but thank you, too. For everything.

Take Care,

Bloo