I am a gangster, or I hope to be; never one to share my vulnerability, I lick my wounds in private. My space is sacred, and I let no one in. Selectivity is key; not everyone can access me. Tell me why, with just a look, you have me spilling all my tea. Why do I feel so many things whenever you’re near? Is this what love should be?
Being mad at you is worse than anything. I am hurting and raging. I need you here, but I don’t want to see you. I am catching an attitude because I miss you. It’s insane how “can never be me” is me right now. How about you stop playing and act right? I already whispered your name in a prayer. I said, “This one (name withheld because the evil eye shall not catch me), I am willing to try. For him, I can be vulnerable and soft.” You made me get down on my knees and plead my case. My mama must be proud I am praying again.
I sing love songs while picturing your face. Fantasia actually makes sense now: “You’re always on my mind; when I get around you, I’m shy. When I see you….” It’s strange how your face is both the last thing I see and the first thing I see, and yet I still want more.
Part of me hates to admit that I am gone. Absolutely on the bandwagon, I am racing towards a location unknown. I enjoy the thrill of discovering what could and would be. I’m gradually falling for the thoughtful gifts, the small reminders that you pay attention to what I say.
I love the soft version of me. I am pampered, fed, and babied in ways I never imagined I could allow someone else to do for me. I like that I am no longer a strong black woman with you. My tears are not denied free will. They aren’t seen as a nuisance or attention-seekers.
At this point, it’s no longer a petition; I am gushing over this gem I found. Maybe this is it, but I am wary. The “what ifs” plague my mind. The “maybes” are screaming loudly in my ear. Yet I am prepared to shut them all out. In this very moment, I’m king. I couldn’t resist quoting a bit of Nicki, but the truth is, I am taking it all in as gracefully as I can.
A day at a time, I am hoping this will age well like your favourite whiskey. So dear universe, please let him not be a lesson; those have been enough already. Let him be an answered prayer and a complement to my life. I have been a strong soldier, fighting wars with a wooden sword. Free me from these shackles. I want to be loved. Please, I lay it all down at thy feet, sincerely. Amen!
© Twisted Empress