My Scattered thoughts…

Sometimes I feel that my mirror should be broken just so my reflection can be accurate. Each shard of glass which represents a different side of me, given a chance to share key moments throughout my lifetime. My insecurity would heighten as the congress of eyes focus in the direction of a man who seeks no attention. Past attention wasn’t always kind to me.  I see myself continuing to stare. In front of me is the weight lost years ago…clearly-still visible. One piece shows the little boy with the big head, soft voice and a walk to match. Teased for being smart, he sometimes wonders if the gift of intellect was a curse. Another is me as a carefree teen aspiring to be so many things; next to him stands a present me wondering if he will ever get there. I have tried to follow in the footsteps of my ancestors, only to stop and wish that my feet would grow bigger. All I have to show for my efforts are toned calves from leaping over one too many obstacles. As I begin to pick up one of the fallen pieces I notice its image is difficult to distinguish. Then I do.  Faintly I can see me sending wishes to Santa, dental presents to the tooth fairy and fighting to keep my eyes closed during my first kiss. Sadly, I had forgotten what innocence looks like. Maybe one day I will finish writing My Broken Mirror.

Sometimes I cross paths with women of yesterday, presently pleasantly surprised to see me. They never fail to say things like “If I knew then, what I knew now. We would probably be together.” I feel bad for thinking to myself that if she settled down instead of viewing me as a settle down, maybe…just maybe…her life would be settle now. It never ceases to amaze me how former heart breakers all of sudden want to play surgeon. Scarred so many times I had no choice but to believe that beauty was truly skin deep.  This didn’t make me insecure. It forced me to keep my feelings towards certain people locked away in security.

Sometimes I wonder when will I fulfill the dream I had and muster up the courage to write my Mike and Nia dedication. Gone but never forgotten. We all miss you two.

Sometimes I am completely misunderstood. I tend to yell when I’m at my most vulnerable-a defensive mechanism to hide the hurt often turned offensive. They are just words, shuffling through a temporary dark moment in search of a compassion lit retaliation from its recipient. I would prefer to a life filled of make ups; absent of the fights needed to initiate them. Arguments are our body’s way of flushing out obstacles to make room for progress.  All I want is progress. I want to progress to a point where in attempt to write you a love letter my desk would be ink-stained in the process because what I have to say about you could never be kept within the margins of its paper.  Its body would consist of continuous run-ons devoid of any periods. My way of showing that you can take my breath away in person and also through words.

Sometimes I love too hard.  I kiss her while she’s sleeping just so I can say I love you in her dreams. My hugs are gentle versions of the pinch confirming that she is in fact…real. My loving too much does have a downside. I’ve imagined our bigger picture so vivid-I sometimes create blemishes trying to preserve it before we’re given a chance to complete it. While loving this deep I often forget that we are not the artist…just simply the subjects. I’m drawn to her. Gravity doesn’t hold me down-she does. God willing, when we reach that day and get married, thank you cards will be sent to all of her ex’s dumb enough to let her go.

Sometimes I want to just want to create a blog about nothing that means something.  Sometimes I wish you could read what didn’t make the cut-or see that my loneliest moment is when I press publish. Sometimes I wish I never had this blog. No wrongs to right-or write.  No pressure to write. Then I remember. I remember the look on the face of my first fan, nervous as she shook my hand. I remember a dear friend thanking me for expressing in his words “he as a man felt he could never say.” I remember women saying that they have hope in men again. I remember your comments and emails. I remember that it’s worth it.  I remember that I’m humbled. Sometimes I have completely scattered thoughts and sometimes like today… I decide to post them. Thank you for reading.

-Bless-

The Games We Play…

He has been titled a player. Not because he left taking pieces of pieces but because he participated in this game entirely too long. Past mission’s objective was to Strip and Poker. His Operation now, Connect Four lips and discover one love. Deployed at sea, quickly he becomes alienated-unable to Go Fish.A marina filled with yachts-he stands as the lone Battleship waiting to be docked. A Lost Survivor, sensing his future may be in Jeopardy. He contemplates picking up the Telephone to reach out to the one he let slip away. Men never appreciate what they let go until they realize their hand is now empty. Mistakes begin with miss for a reason. In the long run, he will miss her more than she will miss him. With their relationship now past tense, he still misses her. But she is now-Mrs. Him. What does he do next? He seeks the light from friends like Simon failing to realize, not everything Simon Says points him in the right direction. He doesn’t want a mate to check; only a mate that’s right. His castle has entertained too many knights with pawns disguising themselves a Queens. This Trivial Pursuit of happiness is leading him nowhere. Someone, anybody…Give him a Clue! 

 She is trapped in the game as well. Her reality is far from a Candy Land. She remains a puzzled fixture because over and over she’s connecting to pieces unable to create a cohesive picture. These men, they Twist her. Never breaking, but emotionally bending enough between her blues, reds and greens she struggles to find her balance. In the process, she’s thrown so much water under the Bridge she wades through mistakes and regret as she crosses them. A woman’s strength can be her greatest gift and often her biggest curse. She’s built with the ability to see the sun while drowning in the rain. Unlike man she musters up the strength to stay though the pain. She did have a chance to capitalize on loves Monopoly. She was unwilling to take a chance. She day dreams of gaining a sense of community while laying on his chest. When blessed with a good hand…Never fold. She didn’t play her cards right. Youth had her thinking that she could find a Diamond in the Club to give her Heart to. Taboo was making the good ones guess too much. She convinced herself that the chase would make him appreciate the Tag. While chasing, he began to focus only on those body parts she made visible to him. She showed her face too late and he has to Concentrate to remember what it was he initially looked for. Fortunately, there is still good left in her. Bad decisions don’t always make you bad person. Having to mask her sadness she’s mastered camouflaging loneliness through smiles. She doesn’t want to embark on a Manhunt. She only wants to be chosen.

As for me, Game over to some of my opponents. Much of my Life consisted of an immaturity too stubborn and strong to permit me to say Sorry! My heart was locked so deep within my own Dungeon; I would Drag On with excuses as to why I kept myself a prisoner. Rightfully so, faith has placed me at the table to deal with Karma. My punishment is already in motion and its severity is still pending. Begging for another chance would fall upon deaf ears. My pleas of forgive me; overpowered by the distant whimpers of an ex’s “but you promised”. And she did. Karma, forever silent in voice always makes good on her word. Revenge, a dish best served cold, had force me to eliminate an appetite for love; diet from those ones hunger the most. See, I feared that my slate will be wiped clean through the removal of my plate. I deserted any cravings for her dessert. Until Karma said grace I would never be allowed to eat. Then I became hungry.

My attempts to make amends were fused with numerous amens. I wasn’t looking for a rematch, just trying to lose victoriously. I understand that I’m sorry can lease you forgiveness but rarely can it afford to buy. For once in my Life, I was beginning to play my cards right. I Declared War on no one and preferred the company of Uno rather than drawing four. When the sky opens up you can find us listening to the rains Pitty Pat on my window sill together. I found a love that made me realize that, if she wasn’t in the game then I didn’t want to play. Never would I have considered myself a homebody until I found a body I wanted to come home to. I’ve gone from not knowing Jack to becoming King through gaining a Queen. I have to go now. I’m flushed and she’s waiting on me! I don’t want to get in Trouble. Oh my, the games we play.

 -Bless-

Regretfully Yours…

I pray that my keyboard is waterproof. I continue to push forward because the words on my monitor appear blurred and unnoticeable. On your end, if any should appear red it’s only because the tip of my pen is dabbed by a poke of my heart. Each thought unfortunately…requires more ink. Bear with me as I proceed to tap into my life. Allow my typos to show you that I’m not perfect and at times miss out on the little things. If you see extra question marks it’s because I still ask questions, totally oblivious to why it happened and I’m yearning to know. This post is my life. Possibly your life. Maybe one thing we have in common is the feeling of feeling uncommon.

Lonely is the moment when the person you want to be with most is nowhere to be found. How is it possible with all of these contacts, I keep scrolling and have no one to contact. You, the one I want to fall asleep on, dream about and then wake up to. Simply put, you are gone and I am hurting. I’m losing hair because you’re not physically here to physically hear. What’s next? Move on? Love someone else the same when I can’t even look at love the same. Shouldn’t this come easy as abc? Ironic that ex comes before why. You, are far too distant to see. What is my lesson learned? Grade me. Give me an F. I have failed. Give me an F because I still quickly forgive. Give me an F because I just want to forget. Give me an F because I miss your foreplay or for thinking we were greater than just foreplay. Give me an…F. Why do I still give a F???

I was driven by fear for so long I chose to stay parked with you. My thoughts created head traffic due to your mixed signals. When given the green light you quickly turn red. I followed your lead patiently waiting for your indications. Remaining neutral got me no where. My drive to push us forward yielded reverse effects. With every passing siren I secretly hoped we would be pulled aside and written up so we could learn from our mistakes. Time and time again I found myself paused at the crossroad. Contemplating which direction to go. Thinking to myself-should I walk or don’t walk.  You proved that we were an accident. We crashed as you made the decision for the two of us.

I tell myself that I am not a shame nor should I be ashamed.  I’m not wrong for loving you; perhaps I just loved you for the wrong reasons. I had feelings. Who am I kidding? I have feelings. Feelings weren’t just something I felt for you. Through them I had the ability to tangibly feel what was invisible. I felt you and we connected. Connected to the point that I could feel you before seeing you, like a teardrop from the eye. You made a fool of me and a fool of love. I’ll take responsibility in fooling myself into still caring when I should have let go. Fooling myself when my brain saw this coming, kept it secret and my heart was the last to know. My mouth played a part remained quiet as kept not realizing that remaining quiet never kept anything.

Maybe one day my being sacrificed will bring you closer to your God. You will see that he gave you the tools; you possessed the hardware but lacked the hard work. My pro is no longer being with a con/amateur at love. When we are once again face to face we will be in two different places. I stand before you but mentally I am  so far removed. As that conversation ends, goodbye will commence my victory lap knowing that finishing last in your race enabled me to come in first place. No trophy, just the reward of being able to stand again after painfully falling. The pain will  linger as I strive to heal myself through the use of my fingers. But my keyboard has proven to be waterproof and my words are a lot more visible now. I hope you, like me, have gained some clarity now.

 -Bless-

No Prince Charming…

“A man must let it be known who he is upfront. If not, he will quickly fall victim to playing catch up to the person she has already determined him to be.” Julius H. Wesley

Majority of men are not like me. Face it, when it comes to communicating most men are remote and remain mute. If silence makes up our majority, what is major about us? I rather be grouped as a-minor and have my words speak volumes. The problem is not every one that hears…listens. In a perfect world my page would be titled Write his Rights. This blog would be a compilation of the greatest decisions man has made in life. This world is far from perfect, as are we. Fortunately, those bad decisions can make him a better person. Unfortunately, those bad decisions may not have bettered anybody else but himself.  

As for me, with every post I’m attempting to affix my past. It’s difficult to accomplish when having to answer questions asking if my posts are specific to them. If our brief encounters were transcribed into sentences there would be eight, at most, maybe ten. And I’m not trying to be brutally honest; sometimes honesty is just brutal. I’m just trying to build my character through the usage of these characters-not worry about who I place as the supporting role. The pressure on the other side is equally distracting. I’m dealing with those who crave the man behind the words. They want me to express with my mouth what has always been easier using my pen. Those same people in reality try holding me to a bar of perfection they themselves could never leap. So before I fall victim like the quote atop, let this blog determine the person I will be.

I would not consider myself Prince Charming. Even though I am Regal in stature, I am considered a commoner. My search won’t end with the foot crafted perfectly for my glass slipper. Chances are my Princess already has bigger shoes to fill. When I wed, the sounds heard won’t be of blazing trumpets but joyous sounds accompanied by tears. I didn’t have to slay dragons to get to her and I’m rich because of the amount of time I invest in her. The woman I seek was never waiting to be rescued. She knew that the only person that can save her-is the one that she prays to. In doing so, it would have been he….who sent me.

My past is too flawed to be Mr. Right. Previously, whenever hearing the word commitment this star player would choke. Stability served as a noose, and it was the same charm that roped many in, that prompted them to stay. Very few I could imagine myself tying the knot with. If abrupt goodbyes were a crime, I was the cowardly fugitive moving too swiftly to witness my transgressions. To leave cordially was always the road less traveled. I approached all exits as if they were an Emergency. As a male I must have been born with the ability to run tirelessly yet effortlessly. When faced with a challenge I would revert as if it was my first time tested.

Thankfully, I’m a student of life and maturity will teach you amazing things. For example, every battle should not be treated as war. Angry words fired easily bring about casualties. She may be alive but feels dead inside. I now know that every time she speaks, she isn’t looking for a response-sometimes she just wants to be heard. And not every time she holds you tightly, is she at her strongest. She stares while you’re sleeping because you are everything she’s ever dreamed of. I know that cheating strips a Queen of her crown, de-robes her and makes her feel like the joker. Maturity makes you understanding. It’s not that most women have trust issues-they have issued their trust to so many, there is little remaining for her present subscriber.

I’m no fairy tale but we can still live happily ever after. Whether we kiss to make up or I’m kissing your make-up, our kisses makeup what love is made of. And I’ll kiss you like I mean it and hug you like you’re supposed to be held. Learning from my mistakes has made me a mountain and not a stepping stone. At my peak, I will provide breath taking moments. Even at my low we are too high for the majority to climb. I guess I have the tendency to be Mr. Right depending on my behavior. Just hold my hand and write our story…we can worry about my title later. 

-Bless-

Destination Us…

“Love is only desolate to those who seem desperate.  If hasty in the journey, you won’t ever enjoy the steps in it. Faith is believing in the things that haven’t happened yet. Destiny is the destination you can’t control because it’s already set.” Me 

She is broken. Her fix is gained in a moments kiss because she is still addicted. She remains high in a low and has no where to go.  She is hurt.  Her shirt is clean but she has been trampled upon. A mere stepping stool to elevate others. Whether they step up or step down, she is one being stepped on. She is defenseless. She commands attention when giving herself but is forced to let her guards down. She is famished. The taste of defeat never leaves her full. Perspiration never quench her thirst. She  savors the scent of the good company. She is a problem. She has no one to answer to and every man she encounters is questionable.

She has cried for a purpose. Through circumstance she has watered her seed enough to blossom into the flower she needed to be. She has grown. Rooting herself deeply enough to become familiar with dirt. She continues to rise above it all and reach towards her light. She seeks comfort in its warmth and at night, she sways with enjoyment during a midnight’s breeze. She is special. Her thorns only prick those pricks too selfish to hold her the way she needs to be held. She is destined…

He is tired. He has been running from the same thing he has been chasing for years. Love to him isn’t tangible-just something that goes off on a tangent. He is illiterate. He fails miserably at reading between the lines. He feels dumb whenever he can’t find the words to say.  Either he is at a loss for words or hasn’t found the ones to describe her yet. He is numb. Incapable of having feelings. He can’t feel if he hasn’t been touched. He is invisible. Her past causes her to walk past him. A good man is not hard to find. He is not hiding; those seeking him are still blinded. He is deprived. Starving for a successful relationship so badly you can see his ribs.   

He has cried for a purpose. Sadness is the only emotion your body needs to feel.  When your eyes pour…your spirit receives. His face is moistened but internally he is becoming tougher. He has been educated. Love is a class where are you are penalized for being late and extra credit is handed out for early handouts . He understands that” I love you” isn’t a one way…but a two way street. If “I love you” isn’t parallel to “you love I” then that relationship will reach a dead end. He is patient. He will wait for her to say I see you and reciprocate intensive care. He has potential. In order for her to be moved his energy must be kinetic. It’s impossible to fall in love while standing still. He has a testimony. Interacting with those angelic in feature yet the devil lied in their lips. He kissed them anyway because he was dying to go to Heaven. He is destined…

They were destined.

They cried for a purpose. Those tears allowed them to relate before they had a relationship.  Strength is in their tears-courage was their ability to wipe them. Learn from them…Use them. Men fear to cry because most men cry fear in their tears. Her palm will soothe his back during the moments his hurt compels him to shower and bathe in those tears. She will need to voice herself and he will listen. Silencing himself to be permissive not submissive. He will uplift her as carefully as when he picked her. She stood out in a garden of many. And with every pluck of the petal, guessing games weren’t about she loves me and love me not. More of a game of she loves me & I love her more. They profess these words with power only because it comes from the softest side of their being. They are destined to paint a picture worth a thousand words; those words will enable them to paint a thousand pictures. They will create an album and he will be instrumental in being her instrumental. A score composed through daily dialogue. To love a person boils down to who they are and how they make you feel. They found themselves by being lost in others. They now feel because they have truly touched one another. Their paths different but their road was the same. The journey was already set.  He and she are no different than you and I. You are only hopeless when you hope less. Wish them well as they travel towards their destination of togetherness. Destination…Us.

Single Yet Taken…

We have issues to address but with no label on this relationship, who do we mail our complaints to? We don’t. Those statements remain enveloped-forgotten…and become sealed with a kiss. I’ll let you, define us. I’m oblivious in knowing what I mean to you. If actions speak louder than words, all we do is close our eyes and let them fall upon deaf ears. Thus begins the lie. Not through the words spoken by false lips but through the silencing of a truthful tongue. You are not afraid of asking but clarifying. In doing so, it may prove that we are on different pages of the same story. Main character to one. Honorable mention to the other.

Relationships need a title as much as a child needs a name.  When you reach out, I’m not at fault for not responding. I’m not at fault for failing to receive the message explaining that mentally you set boundaries that you hoped I’d never journey across. There is no way we can be exclusive without being elusive. Because what we have is a faux relationship. We talk like them, walk like them but we don’t walk with them. Yet if I should wonder astray and fault like them…I’m wrong like them.  And you would hurt like her. So while you break down and contemplate breaking up, you will break down again when realizing I was never yours to break up with.

Do I have the right to care or only the right to remain silent? Fearful that our pact may be breached, we become lazy and never exercise our Freedom of Speech. So where do we go from here? We take a business approach to a social us. Working days and mandatory overtime dedicated to us. We believe that we are friends with benefits, but where is the friendship once the benefits run out? We convey our feelings through intercourse but rarely over a dinner course. Relationships are difficult, and built from the bottom up, not the top down. They are even more difficult once you cross the point of bottoms up with their tops down.

And If sex without a bigger picture in mind remains an empty canvass…where do I begin to draw the line? We need each other. I need to paint…you need to be seen. I see you. I see a woman, extremely beautiful but deeply cognizant of her flaws. So vulnerable to my every touch, you follow my lead to prevent the distortion of this picture. With every pose she models the model she’s convinced I want her to be. Your security is in knowing that I will never highlight your insecurities. She trusts me more than the ex…maybe more than the next. She’s grown to love me and doesn’t require it in return. Only asks that I grow to understand her. Understand her like a butterfly lost in an Amazon of love. Understand that her being lost in us doesn’t hinder her from still being beautiful. 

The truth is my blues can never paint you a heaven and my water can’t wash the pain away. What we have isn’t unconventional…its convenient. You are afraid to move on. I’m afraid to let go. Let me go. If a person isn’t meeting you halfway then it’s a chase-and you never chase anything not moving in your direction. Nothing meant for you will ever run from you. I can’t justify the whirlwind of emotions you’re putting me through.  I also refuse to find solace in the lone gentle breeze you generously threw my way. We are all priceless so let’s not sell ourselves short. Neither one of us is wrong.  We just need to do what is right. To go our separate ways, it only requires one person to leave. It was fun, but it is all fun and games before someone catches feelings. And once feelings are involved lives are at stake. This is the reason why we tend to avoid relationships to begin with. I’m sure this is hard to digest and what was said might be slightly mistaken. I could explain a little further…but won’t. Why? Because I’m single…not taken.

-Bless-

My Hearts Winter…

You stand outside alone suffering from the cold winds of my shoulders. As you drew nearer to loving me, neither one of us predicted the sudden change in my temperature. My actions serve as a blizzard making it impossible for you to see who I am anymore. Liking me was a journey but achieving love would be a trek. Every door slam sends forth a gale in your direction. You push forward…I push back. Although you have taken countless steps to reach this point, my commitment is needed to brave the next few. Reach my hearts doorstep; look down and be greeted by my lie. Those who stand here are no longer welcome. In between us stands one door. My wall. From your side viewed as a means to enter…on my side a shield to keep you out.

 ”Who is it?” I ask.

You answer with a name of one; all I hear is a list of many. The names of those who entered with empty hands and left taking portions of my innocence with them. Many like me had an appetite for love…but they failed to bring anything to the table. Yet I served them. Catering to a greedy audience too selfish to say thank you. Wining and dining those who in return left me whining and dying. Falling in love is when someone sweeps you off of your feet and catches you before you land. My knees are scarred from falling without bracing. Or possibly from dropping to my knees relentlessly and praying. Praying that my ability to love be stripped away from me. With a half-heart I manage to plea wholeheartedly.

I peek outside. Though you are dimly lit, vividly I can see that you wear their shadows. As you move, your shadow follows your every motion. The others move in unusual directions. Collectively they wave as if they are mocking me. Anxious to enter. Quickly I close my eyes preventing you from peeping through my windows. Foiling your attempts to look into a darkness and witness a still soul…frozen by fear. Sadly you turn around. Your eyes focusing on the trail of footprints leading to the warmth where you once lived. Then you look back at me and see a heart in desperate need to change seasons.

On the other end of that door; my head presses firmly against my side of the universe. One hand tightly grips its knob. I asked you to be patient. But what will your patience unlock? On this side, my light and dark co-exist.  There is no good and bad only mistakes and lessons learned. The ghosts of my past haunt me daily. Today’s renewed spirit often drowns them out by playing concerts of joy. Laughter is to be made, but if you listen carefully, the rattling sounds of closet skeletons can be heard upstairs. Secrets live here too. Some so terrible if you whispered them to me in my sleep I couldn’t forgive myself and dream of a better me.

What did I do? You ask.

You did everything but prove that you weren’t perfect. Part of being a great catch is realizing not everyone’s hands are strong enough to hold you. I held you tight enough to feel your breath but loose enough to let you breathe. So when you inhale…you breathe me in deeply. Air was given to me just so you could take my breath away. I continued breathing…you continued reaching. As an attentive pupil in your eyes, you were teaching me how to love again.

We took short trips around the world through long kisses during our hearts Summer. Baggage was light enough to carry but served as a reminder of why we needed to leave. While some people have baggage…others have cargo. Delaying flights because their burdens are too heavy to load. The more trips we took, the more I decided to carry. Slowly I began to vacate from our vacations. With my fall season approaching, my colors began to change. You found me offensive through my acting defensive. If we cared as much in saying goodbye as we did in saying hello, break ups would birth friendships. Friendships would form alliances. But they don’t. Friends often become lovers but rarely do lovers become friends. They become strangers. We will become strangers. Leaving me as vulnerable and alone as the welcome mat they once crossed to enter. Or that’s what I keep telling myself. You deserve to enter. Frustrated, I pound on my wall. I’m running out of reasons why I shouldn’t let you in. I’m terrified, I’m angry, I’m hurt, I’m crying. I’m turning. Gradually the knob is turning.

“WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WANT?” I scream.

Her words struck with accuracy and melted a part of me.

“YOU. I WANT YOU!”

The door immediately flew open and I was swiftly blinded by the light. I began to fall. My back never touched the ground. She caught me. And though I couldn’t see yet, I found sight through the Braille of her face. She felt warm. I assume she was still a bit angry about being left in the cold. Putting her feelings aside, she kissed me. Once again we took flight. The destination surprising the both of us. This time we landed at the very location we took off.

Why did you come back for me? I asked

Her Response. “How could I know you were the answer to my prayers, if I wasn’t given the test to prove it. Relationships are strengthened on the moments that made us weak. How can I lift you up, if you have never fallen? Or be the calming water if you are never fire. Neither one of us are perfect. Let’s accept these imperfections and realize that we are perfect just the way we are. So when the seasons change, we will dress appropriately. Promise me in getting to know me you will have the patience to accept what they have done. Don’t run. Unfortunately, I have braved a cold like yours before. You still…have yet to feel…My hearts winter.”

-Bless-