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The Storm
I was so ready to lean into your slimy words, your unbearable, deceitful words.
I was so ready to stay true to your demeanor, your manner, it was my poison.
My downfall was my belief in your eyes, in your warm affectionate lies.
In the acceptance that you would just ignore my cries, every time they occurred.
My home which was your chest felt secure for a while, but since the habit of our on-going feud, my home was ruined; almost like Katrina passed through it.
With no home I felt like a stray.
It was extremely inconsiderate for you to want to wife up a new girl practically everyday, and here I was trying to be the best girlfriend—trying so hard, so you could disregard my love then discard my notions.
My intellectual capacity of love for you was infinite, but it might have been too great for you to comprehend.
I cannot sit here and act as though you are a simple being.
I felt we were equally complex.
Our addictions were different though---
While I was mostly addicted to you, music, and dance you were addicted to women, women, women, women, the internet, music, and dance.
I had no problems with your addictions to music, in fact I loved it, and we both shared that love.
Our love for music enhanced the beauty of our relationship.
I just couldn’t handle taking a back seat to all the random ugly girls you met on the internet.
I was just walking today from work and I had such a hard day and all I could think of was you holding me in your arms because… like I said your chest was my home before the storm came and washed away the foundation--- then everything crumbled and disintegrated.
