The First Kiss

My lips were numb and I could barely breathe. Whenever we kissed, I felt intoxicated. I wanted more. I needed more.

His kiss sucked the air directly from my lungs. When our lips parted ways, he bit down until tears welled in my eyes. His kiss felt like love so I bit him back. I was ready for love.

Then he’d trail his lips from my full bottom lip to my chin and from my chin to my neck. My pussy ached in a literal sense. My inner walls contracted and salivated.

His fingers danced to the meeting of my thighs and skipped around my clit. He kissed me again. Tiny bubbles filled my airway. My breaths would become shallow. My mind would race until I was dizzy.

This unmistakable lust had eluded me until this moment. A stolen moment.

A single stolen moment would become two and then three until each stolen moment was declared the last of its kind.

image credit: stefan kuhn

3 AM RAMBLINGS & Indistinct Dreams

So I’m going to write everything until something makes sense. I read this tweet from someone that said something along the lines of “Pay attention to who comes to get you when you retreat inside of yourself.” There’s no one here.

3 AM RAMBLINGS & Indistinct Dreams

Self conscious and self aware are not the same and I happened to become both at once. I recognized that I needed to work on myself to find inner peace. I’d spent the first five years of motherhood learning that despite knowing who you are as a woman, your identity changes when you become a mother. It’s now year six and I still don’t know who “she” is.

I am a woman first because being a woman allows me to feel human. The woman I imagine myself to be knows how to cope with the white noise. As a mom, I feel overwhelmed, lonely, neurotic. As a mom, I should have all the cures and answers my children ask of me but I feel as though I’m coming up short; with empty hands.

My old friend battles anxiety and depression. I was her crutch. Imagine using a broken crutch. When I saw that I needed to pull away to be repaired, I tried but was discarded in the process so fuck her.

I have a friend who is negative. The world is negative. Imagine listening to a broken record. Even a broken clock is right twice a day so I keep her bc she keeps me.

I had a friend who lived in an old shoe. It turns out, we weren’t friends at all. I was her cobbler. Imagine being drained of healing properties you didn’t know you had.

3 AM RAMBLINGS & Indistinct Dreams

You owe yourself your mental health. I can’t help you if I don’t help myself. No longer unable to identify those that drained my mental health, I’m ready to dig into my deeper subconscious.

Night time, maybe even dusk. Think state fair in Central Park. Able to order plates from amazon. Ordered pizza bbq chicken and other random fare. Conspiracy theorist meeting nearby. People go up a tower and don’t come down. I went up the tower before my food arrived and returned without remembering the trip. My food was covered but the random ppl that ordered with me were gone. Saw a homeless guy run further into the park. I gave chase then woke up.

I am growing. I think.

I see him everywhere in everything. I wish I was referring to my higher power but I’m referring to my lost and late love. I wonder if this will ever get any easier.

My chest hurts. I wanna cry but the strength and stubbornness in my melanin will not permit me to do so.

I need you because I trust you even though it doesn’t seem like it. Again, blame the stubbornness in my melanin.

A woman who cried often taught me that the only real emotion or relevant emotion was her anger. I don’t know how to fix it. I heard this is called Black Trauma.

I don’t want to kill myself. I have so many stories to tell and trips to take. I just want to feel better. When I breathe, I don’t want the crack in my heart to feel like it’s bleeding. I don’t want it to feel like the bricks I laid around my emotions are eroding, taking my ability to love and be empathetic away in the winds if experience.

3 AM RAMBLINGS & Indistinct Agony

I’m tired but can’t sleep. My eyes are burning but they won’t close. My brain hurts but it won’t rest. I’m trapped in a continuous REM state and the entire show is a nightmare.

January 2020, my first property will be a building. This building will be transformed into a privately funded transitional shelter for single individuals and families. At least 10 apartments to begin. Hebrews 11:1

I’m tired. I forget to pray for inner peace and when I remember, the stubbornness of a born sinner won’t allow me to follow Psalms but I think it was people like me that Jesus died for. I’m hoping this is sufficient.

I’m so tired.

I am tired.

I miss him so much. I don’t think any of my friends understand why. He loved me through the mental break downs before we understood my affliction to be a mental illness. He loved me anyway. His family loved me anyway. They even liked me despite the burden my 14 year old broken spirit arrived with.

You are among my dearest memories. When my mother was thought to be hours from death, it was you, the person I knew least who comforted me the most. It was you who kept me occupied. It was you who visited my mother when I could not. It was you who watched me cry without judgement. Thank you.

I want an ofrenda. My father had one but it wasn’t called an ofrenda. It was simply the ancestors’ room.

I’m tired.

My phone is dying.

I can’t sleep.

But I must sleep.

Still nothing makes sense but I must sleep.

9 AM

I have to see him today and I am oddly calm. I don’t know what that means. When he chatted with our oldest daughter this morning, I took note of his backgroud. I could see he was home, with his other children. I think I am coming to the conclusion that a two parent home is better than one.

There are so many thoughts running through my mind. I don’t want to be an example of how women are strong and they can make it alone. I know we can. I think this can end one of two ways, my daughters will see what a dysfunctional relationship looks like or they will see what a functional father looks like.

People are always saying that if he’s a good father, he will stay around anyway. But why should I put a man to the test?

8 AM

This is the first morning since I’ve discovered his double life that I did not call him. Instead I put on some music and sped to work. And still the silence is extracting my energy.

What’s the point of all of this when I will likely go back anyway? I hear it when people say “you deserve better.” I’m sure I do not know what “better” is.

There was a moment when my sister said to me “Why does he like you so much? He must not know you.” My mother said she was just doing what sisters do. I didn’t think I was so bad until the moment she said that to me. So if my sister doesn’t think I’m worth loving and yet he loves me then why should I leave?

3 AM

It’s 3 AM
Do you know where your lover is?
I do not.
Chances are i never will.

I haven’t written anything of substance as of late. Just blurbs in an effort to get my fingers moving. I’ve been going through a trying time in my love life and it’s all I can think about. It’s funny that I say “love life” because this part of my life was devoid of fiery love or passion. This part of my life was more about companionship and parenthood.

I want to write it all down and send it to the universe but I fear that once it is written, it cannot be undone. There is something in me that believes in order for he and I to get past this, I must not put it into the universe. I should hold it close to my heart where it hurts the most.

I have been keeping the details pressed against my chest where it seems to be causing a full body reaction.
It hurts to breathe,
it hurts to blink,
it hurts to sleep,
it hurts.

My companion is banking on me wanting to do anything to rid myself of this pain but this betrayal is a fine two edged sword sharpened with manipulation and deceit.

Here I am writing about how I feel but not about what has happened.  I forcefully pulled back the magician’s curtain and now the magic is gone. I want to rewind everything because the knowledge of the deceit is more painful than the speculation.

We’ve been down a similar road before and I managed through that. I just don’t know how in going to get past this.

Alphabet Soup

Writing until the letters tumble from the pages is healing.
New words are formed
from the alphabet soup in my lap
“Hot”
“Redundant”
“Unsatisfying”
“Disbelief”
“Resolve” —
Gossip has imitated life for far too long.
There are three small reasons to stay,
Two words that make it better
Both spoken daily as the constant reminders to the purpose of my unfulfilled desires.
Yet one big reason to leave
“My Sanity”–
Quiet sadness looms over head like London Fog
It’s presence has been obvious for so long that it is ignored and suffered
“I’m Blessed” —
What else could I be with a certain measure of health that keeps me sustained?
20 fingers and toes that tickle with mischief,
6 legs that skip in tune,
4 bright eyes that keep me alert,
3 hearts that beat as
one…
“Goodbye” —
The last word in this alphabet soup of mine & it needs no explanation.