Say hello to…

Mr. Tall Dark n’Handsome.

Alone. An unwilling victim of fate, knows that fate is about to send him careening, hurtling into the arms of a woman, a diva, who has time for this shit?

Grim, he weeps. TD Handsome at your beck and call, what dos you today? Well, he says to himself, a Drink would be square and dat Smoke *sniffs* is just right. So I do well for the moment….

Still, haunted by these things I see, images keep rolling and rolling. I see a Miss Diva Hustla-Divine and I can’t wait to watch her skin shine. Hmm silk and chocolate, lukewarm, temperamental and oh so hot. She yanks my chain and I yank back.

I should be more mindful of my health, but I lead a hum-dumb-dull existence and spicy hurts, but it makes for a better story. I know the games, I only act foolish. Now, this dame (as all dames do) needed help.

And unlike most of her ilk (she refuses to ask for help), using an impenetrable ice princess routine (you howled for yer momma when she was through, ya hollered!!!) I couldn’t help myself, she drew things outta me that I had hitherfore to been unaware of.

Not to worry, I had the same effect on her.

Combustible, impenetrable, shouldn’t-have-never-gotten-tangled-up-with…

But since one can’t change the past, we soldiered forwards. I own things and she takes care of things. We were privy to the finest as well as the worst (she insisted upon it – always had to stay sharp). After one such chillin excursion – witnessing an apoloytic battle waged in the streets of Eastern Europe, we decided to take a stroll. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t speak. As the day grew cloudier, the winds started to howl and the bones began to freeze; she cracked. She stopped dead in her tracks, slighty swaying, hands fisted and she proceeded to mutter and hem, to hem and haw, hum and hem – this means she’s calling/stewing upon some demons and a war was about to spew forth…

Not in the mood, as a different demon churned my insides… I looked into turbulent eyes and kissed and kissed and kissed, pausing only to open the door and sprint up the stairs. So, a new war erupts. Bodies pressing and sliding and kneading. Hats sailing, veils lifted and subsequently rumpled, lipstick smears and this spewing heat, racing hearts and racing time…


~ by tashpoeme on February 3, 2009.

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