Recently I revisited LAID…this book I dunno if you’ve heard of it but it’s amazing ;) and came across something I didn’t pay enough attention to when I first read it:
“If your sexuality was a canvas and every partner that you’ve ever had painted something on it, what would it look like? Is your canvas crowded? Is it a masterpiece?? Or is it straight graffiti??”
So I thought about it for a veryyyyyy long time so I tried to write a poem which didn’t turn out the way I planned but such is life. I told the story of my “canvas” from my first sexual experience to my last and some details in between without actually saying it. You’re gonna have to read between the lines and figure out what I REALLY mean. It’s not “real poetry” in my eyes its just a little wordplay and a lot of sexual innuendo that rhymes…which is fine cuz I’m not a writer I just write a lot. Warning: Some lines are just a foolish joke hopefully to evoke a giggle. enjoy!
It’s dark. It’s Baltimore—The Home of The Wire. It’s 2am. She stands alone in the hood on a street corner wearing a “sexy” maid’s outfit. It’s never safe out here at this hour. Her breasts are fighting to escape from that top. My light is red, so I have the audacity to stare at her. I think “wtf it’s not Halloween, and I know she’s not a real maid wearing that at this hour. She’s definitely a prostitute”. I couldn’t help but notice her crazy makeup, fake hair, cellulite, skin, ass, tits, and very cute hooker boots though…but still, more than I needed to see at the moment. I must admit I label her a trashy hoe. “The Maid” slowly struts towards a black Buick to do what I call “The Hooker Lean” into the passenger side window. They work a deal. She gets in. They drive off. We all know the rest.
"The Hooker Lean"
SO WHY IS THIS ILLEGAL? PROSTITUTION IS A VICTIMLESS CRIME, SO SHOULDN’T IT BE LEGALIZED? Read more »
We all know her. She sits around listening to old love songs reminiscent of the good old days when she was in love, back when the feelings between her and him were mutual. Now she has a broken heart, a broken spirit, and worst of all a broken smile. She sits alone and wonders how a small crack in her relationship turned so quickly to a great chasm separating the two. There are many factors that can rip apart a seemingly seamless relationship. Aside from physical attraction and chemistry, the most important factors of a strong relationship are trust, commitment, and communication. These are the pillars and if any one of them somehow become fractured, the entire relationship is liable to collapse. When the bond between two people is shaky, sometimes one partner falls prey to infidelity. People cheat, not considering the detriment they cause to their partners. Americans seem to be straying away from committed relationships as marriage is on the decline and adultery is on the rise. Teens and young adults have “open relationships”, bending the rules so that cheating is fair game. This epidemic can be detrimental to the institution of marriage which may soon become a thing of the past.
This is the intro paragraph to a research paper I wrote about infidelity, marriage, suffering relationships, and opening up to love again after being hurt by infidelity.
lol. she forgot to bust the windows out his car. smh. amateur.
Infidelity hurts. However, only in biology is a broken heart a fatal disease—not in love. Oftentimes when strong romantic ties are broken, at least one person loses a part of herself, thus disabling her to fully trust, care for, or love another person as freely as she did before. Being overly protective of one’s own feelings can turn out to be self-destructive. There are many ways to facilitate the recovery of romantic despondency. This reconstruction is healthy and allows one to fully become immersed in love, a gift of life.
This is another random paragraph from somewhere inside my paper about: when relationships end some people (like myself) become kinda bitter and guard their heart like a prison.
UPDATE: okay, so I realized that i reeeallly didn’t like how I wrote this, so I’m gonna attempt to detach myself emotionally and fix it. Hopefully it works. (Happppy Bday 2 my little cuz btw.
The Place: Trinidad and Tobago (Specifically Tobago), a small Caribbean Island Nation
This occurred while my mom and I were on vacation visiting the country where we just moved out of two years earlier.
Strong Blood.
As I sit at the edge of the shaky bed hugging her, I feel the warmth of her tears drip onto my leg. They begin to fall faster. Tears flow like rain from her cloudy eyes as they bleed through my t-shirt. My ears ring out as her little o-shaped mouth releases a thunderous bawl. The sound resonates throughout my body as I feel a shocking sensation—as if I am struck with lightning. I try to think of something comforting to say. No Such luck. At the tender age of 10, I was never taught how to console my little cousin after the death of her mom. My aunt. How do I explain to her what A.I.D.S is? How do I tell her that her “father” is the reason her mom is no longer alive? I guess I should be well prepared when it’s time to explain this to her baby sister.
