I heard the pain in your voice, the defeat, the frustration, the hurt… The realness of it all. I wanted to hold you, love you, rub your beard and tell you everything would be okay, but I couldn’t. Not because you wouldn’t let me but because you caused the pain. You pushed and pushed until the door slammed behind me. You see, when I’m in your arms, when I’m in your face, when I’m with you, in your bed, I feel sexy, beautiful, loved, and wanted, but I felt none of those things. I felt alone, abandoned, uncared for, unloved… So, I went searching. Searching for something, for someone who would feed the need, give me the attention I craved, to fill the void that was left by you, by your presence, by your love. What I found, couldn’t, compare, didn’t measure up. Couldn’t… Measure… Up. He wasn’t you. Plain and simple. He couldn’t touch me like you. Couldn’t love me like you. couldn’t… couldn’t fuck me like you. He simply… wasn’t…you. This isn’t to gas you up or to blow smoke up ya ass.. It’s what I’m feeling, how I’m feeling and about who I’m loving.
I put pen to paper, or finger to keyboard, when I’m frustrated and need to release the thoughts swimming in my head. I wish you were my release, my keyboard, my pen and paper.. Shit, I wish you were a lot of things. I wish we were a lot things. I wish we could be a lot of things.. like us…
…the ramblings of a lovesick woman.