“What happened on the night of July 12th Mina?” Little Missy asked me for the umpteenth time. Her name was quite fitting considering that she gave it to herself before the cognitive part of her brain was fully formed.
He asked, “What’s the one thing you’re most afraid of?”
“My mind,” I answered.
He said, “me too.”
Petrified, I asked, “mine or yours?”
“Yours,” he nonchalantly said, his eyes never leaving mine.
Before my heart could hit the floor, he shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and quickly added, “But that’s okay.”
I believed him.
No, not his words per se. It was his eyes… but also something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
There was just something about his eyes. At first I loved the fact that his eyes never lied. But every now and then he would lie to spare my feelings, or just lie as human nature. But his eyes, they would always betray him. In those moments, I wished he could be a better liar, if only to spare myself the pain of his truth.
And then it hid me.
“Your eyes,” I said. “They’re my favorite thing about you.”
He smiled and said, “I know.”
He sure did.
By now I had Caroline’s full attention. I could have asked her to secure me a water bed in my holding cell and she could have returned with a bed strong and comfortable enough to accommodate a wanton Duke with twelve mistresses in one seating.
You’re like a storm begging to be a light shower on a sunny day
You picture yourself a haven for a lover’s bliss
Yet it’s so cold under your arms
You’re like a back up singer discontent with the darkness over his head
You fancy yourself a leading role
Yet you shiver under the spotlight
You’re like a little boy dressed in superman’s costume
You think yourself the damsel’s hero
But in your eyes it’s a villain she sees
She’s like the calm you feel before the storm
She carries herself like a butterfly
But there are spines under her wings
He, a villain in distress
And she, a damsel in armor
So a few years back I decided to try interracial dating. This was a deliberate decision because I was searching for something and extending my dating pool was the only way of increasing my chances of finding it. Something new, something different. Continue reading
“I met the girl in Alamond, ” I explained to the sheriff , a short pot-bellied man who wore a perpetual frown on his face like he was mad at the world for allowing his mother to mate with his godforsaken father. I have known men to bond over such commonalities, but I was beyond rédemption when it came to this particular man. He was a necessary evil in my story. Had my mother been any wiser, she would have locked herself in the house and ovulated in peace thirty-two years ago. This catastrophe could have been avoided. Continue reading