I think you are beneath me.
From your large callused hands to your mismatched shoes, think you are too low, in the hierarchy of things i would like, things i like
I like, dark skin, on white sheets, soft lips scented with whisky, i like tall guys with cute lashes i like goofy ass people who make me laugh, i like sarcasm and yet you,
You with yout mismatched shoes and belt got my attention and now am not really enthralled but more captivated than i have been in a while, you, see me say i have wrapped my principles soo thickly around me am in a cocoon you who thinks am too boujee, too intelligent yet.. Yet i know
You are not the one am looking for, you are just not it
Waking up on a monday after a Saturday of dancing and a sunday of doing nothing but stay alone in my bed my happy thoughts keeping me company the world reduced to nothing but the tick-toc of my clock reminding me that the night draws near and on its tail chasing like a happy demon from the depths of hell the sun with her rays like shards of glass, ripping through my curtains piercing my eyes, forcing me to wake up and face the day, and deal with people and solve problems and smile and laugh and deal with people.. Is the worst torture of all
There are some elements of lie in every truth, if ever truths are spoken. How do you tell a truth from a lie, actions speak louder but then there is Hollywood. Oh well
Here is a truth. I cant lie when asked a question.
Its like the intonation of the sentence is a trigger to my brain to totally do away with the “they arent supposed to know that ” filter. The end result is i have true pieces of me left stuck in someone’s memory as a not so seriously ment tirade to a not so seriously asked question, then the same person has the gall to say i hold so much of me inside.
If the universe ever decides to map my life my joys my pains my labored struggles in this mass of heaving earth , i hope it places a star on ever smile i caused, a sun on every love i bore, a leaf, for every pain i caused and wind on every truth i told. I hope, though i bare my soul to so many un deserving nitwits with the desperate need to meet, connect to something real, because surely surely there has to be someone deserving of this awesomeness, that i shall not pass on to my next life with al these truths in solitary confinement.
Daily prompt solitary
You liked my song you said, the way the notes would curl out of my throat, whisper through you and beg the goosebumps to rise on your skin send whispers down your spine, making you whimper with suppressed need for me, for my touch on your soul and the burn of my love in your heart
You hurt me
So much and that was suprising because the hurt was the first tell tale sign that i had fallen, where i thought my pride was holding my spine up nose up am too cold hearted to feel the warmth you seem to radiate when we are together. I seem addicted to your touch and now that we are are not touching anymore the only symphony i hear in my head is the cracking of my cold heart.