Strong Women, Weak Flesh (dedicated to Grip)

The flesh is weak even on the strongest of women.

And the last time I left you feeling like shattering glass, I vowed to have more respect for myself.

Vowed to be the woman my mother raised & not the girl of your dreams.

See ‘cus danger and desire go hand in hand like diabetes and sweet tooths.

And my lack of self control JUST might be the death of me.

Truth is, I’ve turned every “no” that spilled from ya lips into a “not yet,” convincing myself that time would make u see the quality of my presence.

And maybe I was in the desert; dehydrated & thirsty for love. Found you & the mirages of my mind created things that weren’t even there to begin with.

……I was making love to you, and you were screwing me.

Managed to settle for shortlived happiness and retreated to the streets feeling emptier than the shoes of the woman you COULD learn to love.

I never found love on my lips when it came to you though, too scared that if I let it out into the atmosphere it would be real.

But at hooting hours, the question haunts me like the depth behind your eyes.

The mysterious danger has a certain intrigue I’d much rather deny.

So instead, I bring up superficial shit that helps me sleep at night.

Stupid silly shit that tells me you’re flawed fruit in the produce aisle that everyone’s squeezed but no ones taken home.

And maybe you’re the coconut that wound up knocking me upside the head because you. are. perfect. for. me.

And I realize.

I realize, I keep speaking of you’re perfection discounting your flaw to overlook MY perfection.

Your flaw to want everything you can’t have and nothing that wants you back.

But you’re human…

You’re human and your paws graze my body like u need to for survival.

Fingertips circling the curves of my body, the dips in my skin. And with every touch, your lifelines convince me that you need me.

Whatever “this” is got me fucked up. ….because after being the two mirrors to which we reflect and project, I cross your threshold & exit your concern.

I leave. Breaking in pieces, I hit the cold pavement.

The pavement, I’d chased for you.

The pavement I’ve swept with my limp and lackluster body, dragging myself home not knowing when or if you’d call.

Clutching my crotch like a wet handkerchief where sadnesss seeped out and the degradation of dampness remains.

I. Can’t keep going home like this!

, To fix the mess you’ve made of me, the mess I’ve made of myself.

Gluing myself back together every time I shatter & shit. Piecing myself back together until I’m ready to become undone again.

I’ve become a refurbished model of myself.

, and I wonder why your less invested!

You’re staring at less of a women and more of a mess.

Standing infront of someone who’s sat on her standards, tucked them beneath her bum as if it were contraband.

No cops here though,

Just the nypd blues for you.

The stop & frisk and payed my dues for you.

You are looking at a woman who accepted less than what her love allowed because “he’s just so damn perfect”.

………………..love,

………even when it goes unexpressed, should always compliment the love for self, never compromise it.

The idea of “us” is a dead horse that I have just stopped beating.

One day I woke up and dove head first into the sobering reality that some people JUST won’t ‘l-word’ you back,

the reality that even lemon juice is appealing to a thirsty heart,

And that the thirst is so real, the tongue learns to tuck itself.

It becomes a sad day when reality strips you of the ability to use your mouth for anything but pleasure when your enduring a world of pain.

And finally, the reality that no matter how good you feel on my skin, how graceful your name is as it dances off my tongue, how you’ve managed to penetrate parts of me fully clothed, YOU are bad for my health.

Because dreaming of tomorrow’s with a man who has a short attention span makes me a diabetic fiend for the kool-aid that pumps thru his veins.

And I can’t do it….because everytime I think I can, I get sucked into your whirlwind. And it feels good, the water slowly sucking me, pulling me to the pipe…

Till I let myself go and realize that whirlwinds will always lead you to shit.

So I bid you adieu,

But when you finally do commit to the woman of your dreams, I will snicker with the satisfaction that she will never understand or appreciate the inner workings of your mind as I do,

Never go ape shit for the monster in you,

and never accept and welcome your shortcomings, stoicism & shitty as concept of time.

I welcome the day you meet the woman of your dreams only to realize she doesn’t beat what you could’ve had….

And if she does…..well, fuck her too.