ever since I’ve met him, something in my thought patterns shifted. My each and every whimsical, seemingly useless, random, musing has somehow connected back to him. It never fails. I have to sit and ponder at times because I can’t get my mind to grasp these happenings. How did he encapture my entire being so smoothly? …so swiftly? …and why? …when? Why did I not have control of this? And when did I relinquish it?

I’ve even tried to make myself better, a better lover, homie, friend, but only as it pertains to him and his ideas. I want to eat healthier, be more creative, finally find it within me to let go, and discover all the joys of love in life. Eat, play, love.

Sometimes it hurts when I realize I want more from this, from us, than what could ever be. But I still hold on to that last thread of hope, all while wishing it will be the one to break his back. One day maybe he will finally see the good in me, and see the phenomenal woman I’ve blossomed into becoming upon having met him. Doesn’t he see the overwhelmingly positive influence and impact he’s had on my life? Why doesn’t it make him want to stick around to witness the full metamorphosis? Every time we reconcile, its sweeter and sweeter. The love we make is so divine, I’ve never had another who even partially compares. His scent, appearance, appeal, aura, ambiance, all ignite this fiery Passion I’ve always known I surely had, but have forever found it so difficult to simply tap in to, much less to turn it on. Isn’t this love? Or its beginning stages?

There must be a concrete reason as to why he won’t choose me. I believe its because he knows he’s deserving of a woman who has already blossomed and come into her own, on her own. This is without assistance from a man. The fact that I’ve become dependent on him to become myself, or some semblance of myself must be a turn-off to someone so unique. An original individual. He wants a Woman who is already independent and strong enough to raise and nurture a growing household.

That’s not me…

and maybe he knows my dirty little secret. It may never be me.


About theforeseer

Young, Black, Fabulous These Are The Musings of a Foreseer

Posted on June 9, 2011, in love and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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