No You... No Me

It was all good just a week ago… Now I could kill myself… I’m so fucking theatrical… remember? .... The queen of drama… you were my king… the ink in my tats…. The nut in my yoni… (I imagine you laughing)… long story short you make me better… I miss being the enhanced version of me… I need to be superlative… I need you…

A gypsy lover, you have always left… you always came back… time heals all and these pretty purple heels that you love me naked in hurt like hell… this time is different… maybe we have wasted too much necessary time trying to heal in our separate interims of hurt… time is a precious bitch that doesn’t like to be fucked with… both of us fucking up time and time again… this time is different… there is no recuperation or curing this time… we would both agree that it had to be some stupid poo hoe that professed the cure for all can be found in father time…

My days lessened to an excruciating conundrum of routine and loneliness without my comrade to fuck shit up with… the nights now nothing more than darkness and memories as I lay in our once queen sized paradise of sex… the stars sniggling as the darkness laps up my salty tears as my memory slaps my face with thoughts of how you would fuck me into oblivion… 24 hours of cerebral imagery that reminds me how good you smell, how fucking good you look with your Ralph Lauren peeping out of your Cheap Mondays, how great your dick feels in my pussy and how much better your dick taste on my palate as I devoured you for breakfast because I needed nothing more to live but you… memories… we would play rock, paper scissors for who gets to dirty Sanchez the fuck face that encourages those dumb ass ventures down memory lane…

You have gone… like a thief in the night wearing a purple face mask you have stolen my heart… kidnapping my soul with such swag as you’re the scent of your FcuK lingers in the air… abducting my happiness as you walk out my life in your Retro Jordan 11s, size 10 ½s… Polo t-shirt Polo draws I want nothing more than to take that Polo off and reconnect with the skinny nigga that is tatted like a Mexican… I yearn to sit and create a fantasy with my pen and composition book as you create a world of ink in colors that are so magnificent that I am blinded each time I gaze at your magnificence…

Until you return I will be numb because the pain has become insufferable… awaiting your arrival I will veil my world in clouds of purple until I am incapable of feeling my face… I shall flip-cup yellow cups of poison until sleep creeps through my medulla and even my dreams are so intoxicated that I awake reaching for your pillow... hugging that small souvenir that reeks of your aura as if it were wearing the scent of kush and Spongebob boxers … My days sucking and my nights no longer filled with fucking you… 1440 minutes of reminiscing flooded in tears… incomplete without my companion in corruption… it was all good just a week ago…

~Viola Monroe