Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Rainy Hearts

I tried to build many relationships under fallacies and fairytales. I convinced myself that I didn't want more than sex because I believed that sex was all that I had to give. I didn't believe I could be a supportive girlfriend. I didn't think that I was able to be the person he came home to every night and unleashed all the turmoil from his day to. That his head couldn't lay in my lap as my fingertips gently caress his head assuring him that "everything's ok." I wasn't able to be a rock for him to lean on when things became too much for him to stand alone. I wasn't capable of picking up the pieces of his soul after the world has broken him down. I didn't think that I was enough. So even though I wasn't sure if I could be the woman he needed when things got serious, I knew that at least my pussy could suffice for awhile.

Maybe I couldn't have dinner waiting on the stove for him after a long days work but I could have my pussy waiting for him to devour. I probably couldn't be a spiritual guide but his soul- I can definitely steal with just one touch from these lips. Can't build him up but my with these hips, he can grip, and stay balanced. Never asking "how was your day?" But instead moaning out "fuck me harder".

So yes, I'm a mess. I knew the role I could play. I never let myself be the wife because being a mistress was much more fun... or just easier. Both sides of my bed belong to me. I don't have to decide between Housewives or ESPN. I can still be alone yet be held for part of the night. I thought that I was ok with just having that. I thought I was ok with not forming meaningful bonds with men. I thought I wasn't ready for love.

Of course, I failed at the casual sex game many times before. I ended up falling more than intended. Feelings were formed despite how hard I tried to convince myself that just sex was enough. Occasionally he'd spend the night and I'd feel so safe in his arms that it almost felt like this was it, this was the real thing. And suddenly he's gone leaving me once more to figure out if what I was feeling was another fairytale in my head and not me actually breaking down the walls surrounding my cold heart.
Was my heart really frozen because I was incapable of love or was that what I told myself after constantly ending up feeling the adverse affects of love? Did I run away from relationships because I knew that it wouldn't last or was I afraid that it actually would? Am I creating tumultuous relationships just to keep my mind off the fact that I am alone day after day? Does the faux drama give me an excuse to blame everything on men not being honest and breaking my heart when the truth is I'm the one who is dishonest about my true intentions.
If I can distract him with my ass, will he forget that I'm a mess?

Or maybe when I tried to tell him how I feel he didn't understand me because he's shoved his dick down my throat?

Did he become distracted by my cleavage whenever I try to get his attention?

Or maybe it was my ass bouncing up and down in his lap that made it hard for him to concentrate on what I really needed.

I replaced love with orgasms. And it still will never be enough.

Whenever I try to change, my past comes back to haunt me. Those "I miss you" messages are really saying "I'm horny and you came to mind."

When he said I love you, he was talking to my pussy and not me.

At first I felt that was enough. I guess I changed.

But now I have to figure out out of all the love affairs I've had, were any of them true? Did I really form a bond beyond friendship or sexual admiration with these men? Do any of them really know me or do they only know my ass? Do they understand my needs or just my high sex drive?

Am I enough?

Can I meet his parents as his girlfriend and not just his friend? Will they understand that not only do I love his dick, but I love their son as well?

Do I even know how to decipher between the love I have for his dick and for him?

One day you find yourself crying in a dark room because the silence has become too loud for your empty bed and you crave for another body to just lay beside you. And when that body comes, you know that it wasn't the body you wanted but you settle because it will do. For now at least.

And then that's not even enough. Maybe if I had given love a try back then I'd be in love now. Maybe I broke too many hearts by declaring that my body could fuck whoever whenever she wanted.

That shit backfired. Or maybe I just grew up. Another rainy day heart.

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