Tears
running down my face as I glaze at the light shining from the moon.
Lying in bed wondering what did I do wrong this time! Did I love him too much? Did he not like my
attitude? Did he not understand my struggle as a black woman? Do I even
care? Let's be real I do care. I care so much that I recorded my feelings on
paper. A poem of my undying love for
this nigga. He is probably out fucking
the next Bitch. If he didn’t already.
Why do
we do this too ourselves? We put our
hearts and emotions on the line foe these fellas. It’s a lot a work to love a black man
sometimes. He may have a record. You might make more money than him. He might have a baby momma drama. Then on top of that his mother is golden to
him. And this bitch can’t stand you. All
because you was smarter than her. I digress!
Why
can’t that one love find me and love me with all his heart. We live in a nice house in the suburbs with
our 2.3 kids, white picket fence and the whole nine. Why because that is a fairy tale. Those people living that life, are they
really happy? Maybe? I think not!
I
think I should be like a man. Play the
field use men for what I want and need and then roll out like they do. We all
know that is not going to work. Well let’s
just try!
What
do I want?
Every
book I ever read about Polyamory starts out about how wonderful it is. How polyamory is a higher level of love. And so on and so on, and so on. For me I need
to experience to believe it. Welcome to my road to polyamory. To understand where I am today you must look
into my past.
