writing topics for these pieces kill me more than writing the pieces themselves… any who… newest poem… hope you like it!
I saw him from a distance…
bright blue tee and faded jeans
and tingles crept up my spine.
He was what i wished my man always was;
well put together
and could make me wet with a look.
He was my kinda man;
pretty, shinny and flashy.
and the closer he got, the shinier he became.
Just the kinda man…
He had swag
He smelled right,
but not quite.
I met his type before;
They always looked too good to be true,
never a scruffy beard or a loose thread.
They always spoke the right words,
the right time with the right tone,
always thought that i was beautiful
and never wanted to make love unless i was sure,
yes, they know how to play,
but my heart was not a stake in a poker game,
and I was tired of gambling away my most precious asset;
For cheap, frivolous, fickle sweaty episodes of grunts and groans.
For sex that was over too quickly and lasted too long.
For minutes that stretched on and on as he asked me if i liked how he hit that?
If I liked how he HIT that?…
Yeah, I knew his type.
who wined and dined
until they got between big thick thighs
and silk draws
to crevices underneath.
Then, they became ooh to distant,
always so busy,
never having a minute to pick up the phone.
he was everything I wished my man was,
and everything that I was grateful that he wasn’t.
Because behind the scruffy beard
was a smile that could calm even the worse bad days.
Behind the weird Harry Potter glasses were eyes that saw into my soul.
Those eyes that dissected and bisected my angles and heartbreaks
and loved me in spite of.
Behind the bony chest was a heart that beat just for me…
a chest that could bear the weight of my tears
as he rocked me to sleep.
He wasn’t all what i wanted;
yes, he wasn’t polished,
didn’t match his shoes and his draws,
yet, he was exactly what i needed;
a friend and a lover,
and i’m grateful that he’s not my type
and he couldn’t swag right.