This whirl-o-rama! When reality fades into drama; how sweet it is

Slowly pacing up and down. Taking these moments way too seriously, this reality is slowly turning into drama… How many licks does this child have to take before she learns her lesson?

Fine, in this saga, I am only 18, but fuck I can feel it, this black cloud, this problem, as always, is that I never quite have my finger on what the problems are. Since I know I will be running on the hamster wheel forever, I have to, love, if only just once.

Here’s to the future, of knowing that after this, love will never step into my path again. I’m talking ♥ 69s and lollipops and rainbows and ocean and blue and stars and stutters and my favourite new word, spooning. Love was, just.  Judgements were unwarranted, I had him, he had me… We had us and we had good friends – at least they used to be….

Before the reality of age and despair sink in, knowing that for the rest of my life, I’m gonna carry this weight, this repeating the same mistakes. Thinking that this time I just, love…. (please scroll down and I GUARANTEE that there’s a story down there that sounds EXACTLY like the one you’re about to read)!

Just as I was beginning to love. Watching the way he breathes, the funny way his nose scratches itself (well it’s more like a wiggle).

Love was, just.

Something that was counted in dos and donts,

No clowning, easy on the frowning, no messing with the essentials.

Love was, just.

It was, fun. Every morning to wake up and see that it was, just.

Like yesterday, no intrusions some more Marvin Gaye, The Who…. London called and your Sistas, The Wailers jammed to Bob while relaxing in their flats, griping about the dumb foreigner who CLEANED THE FLIPPING T-E-A-P-O=T! He chuckles and you guffaw. It was, fun. The games and the beer and the making up and always good sex and always a kiss or a bite or a sigh and especially hugs and caresses. Some Eminem and some Dr. Dre and always singing along with Patsy, and then falling to pieces and fits of shits and giggles and ♥ 69s!

Love had no bearing on your mental state – it didn’t make you crazy and it wasn’t wrong, it was, just. Just like a dream, a whispered wish that came true, two who grew into one and life rolls on. And on, until it goes back to the times you just met.

Quiet and shy, with hair that wouldn’t quit…*chuckles* looking like you were Albert-Einstein-and-Don-King; especially in the mornings. Hair fused, three finger wide and standing in all directions, lord it made you mad. He loved it and kept calling you the ‘Don-Diva of the MORN! A ray of sunshine to cover the night!’ He hated it when you got it tamed, because he couldn’t touch it, he loved the smell – vanilla and sweet, a prelude to warmth… and heat. Old movies, rally and banter she’s tough and he’s a brick.

                         “Who are you?”
                                     
                                           ” Who, me? Why, I’m the whippoorwill that
                         cries in the night. I’m the soft morning
                         breeze that caresses your lovely face.”
 

 ********************** to be continued*************

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~ by tashpoeme on December 30, 2008.

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