No Reply No Call

Beautiful she was. Beauty would have taken one look at her and felt self-conscious. Blinded by her cutlery like qualities as I began my mental preparation to make her my very own. For those who just experienced a "g-5" moment from that last comment, the term cutlery is only used during the finest of occasions. And that she was. I knew her oh so well. Yet she was rather mysterious. Ignorance forced me to build this ideal woman from hours of text messaging and a few photos. Sadly I never received the honors of looking her in the eyes or wrapping my hands around her waist like the label on the sweetest wine. If ever given the opportunity, that heart of hers would have gotten wetter than the tip of my tongue during sexual recess...

 

But she preferred to play on the seesaw of confusion. Acting just as uncertain as I was certain. Leaving me under the city lights with no reply. Did her clock strike twelve? My questioning may sound far fetched, but why else would she have left me there positioned in such a way that held similarities to that of our past brotha's whom participated in the Greensboro sit-ins. Refusing to serve me up a plate of love. Something my heart yearned for…You know what…f**k it…why pour out my soul on this fancy handkerchief, when all she can hear is "baby I'm sorry take me back" playing over and over in her ear. He had his chance. Damn she could have at least called just to say "I rather be his victim once more".

Reviews

[Dunlack]

I appreciate that man...This is a true story

[Kenneth The Poet]

Intense, Sir E. Intense indeed.