I'm a lier.

It's fine though.

I lie because it's easier than telling the truth.

So, it's totally fine.

I don't lie about important things,

Just my feelings,

Just my thoughts,

Just my truths,

But it's fine.

If you hurt my feelings,

Cancel for the 3rd time,

Disappoint me,

Let me down,

I will lie.

Only because it's fine.

I will not cry,

I will not yell,

I will not revenge.

It's really fine.

Kind of?

But it's my fault you see,

I don't like emotions.

They overwhelm me.

So as quickly as they form I seal the cracks with bandaids because I ran out of tape but that's because I ran out of caulking material but only because I ran out of glue

And Staples.

Needle and thread.

But it's fine.

I just swallow my pride, disappointments, anger, tears, sadness and the guilt for having them down to the pit of my stomach and I hold my breath to suffocate them and force my heart to skips so many beats it hardens because it no longer trust me to take care of it.

Now my heart agrees that it's fine.

With a harden heart it's easier to lie.

Unfazed.

Numb.

No need to apologize,

It's fine.

Where do you see yourself in 3 years? A question I always hated. It's a popular question in Baptist school. I didn't know where I'd be in 3, 4 or 5 years. I knew what I didn't want to be. I didn't want to be preachers wife driving two kids to Bible study on Wednesday nights. I didn't want to be a choir director sitting at a piano conducting shrieking old women, who use to be "great sopranos back in the day". I didn't want to be a missionary neck deep in the dirt of Africa teaching English and the good news of Jesus Christ. However, I never expected that in 3 years I'd live in Sin City drunk on watermelon cocktails. I never expected to be having staycation in an old downtown Vegas motel room. I never expected to be standing, naked in front of the tub in a bathroom filled with smoke and the smell of sativa. But there I was, staring into olive green martini intoxicated eyes, waiting for direction.

She stood in the tub, topless, in a red lace harness, blowing smoke out a tiny window. Her hair swirled into a blond Elvis inspired up do. Her makeup and eyelashes leftover from the hours of partying we had on Fremont street before. At 12 years my senior, she had the tits of a 20 year old and the body of an unedited Marilyn Monroe. She held the joint up and crossed her arm around her waist leaning back against the shower wall. Her hand grazed against the dragon tattoo that clawed up her side with dispersed cherry blossoms raining down her side. I glanced at the tattoo, a perfect representation of her intensity, and I tried to prepare myself for what would come next. She closed one eye, inhaled and she asked me to play with the neon purple cock we had strapped on before getting baked. I stroked it as if she could feel it. I felt the echo of my heart beat in my right hand. Not noticing the power button, I accidentally turned it on. I stood there pushing the button, trying to turn it off. She grabbed my hand, gently moving it away and turned it off with ease. She smiled "I guess that means it's ready". I giggled nervously. She stared. Calmly. She had a way to make any one blush. A confidence in her sexuality unlike anyone I've ever known. She pulled my face toward her for a kiss. "You're shaking" she whispered as she slid her hand between my legs. "And you're wet" she added with a pleased look on her face. She stood in front of me elevated by the tub, her tits to my eye level. I wrapped my arms around her bringing her nipple into my mouth. I sucked and licked with a nervous aggression that had been building up all day, this surprised her. She pulled away. I thought I did something wrong. Before my embarrassment could set in she readied the other one. My clit tingled as I rolled my tongue around her nipple. Her toy rubbing softly against my leg. I opened my mouth to release her. "Whoa girl, if there was milk you would've sucked it all out!", I giggled and covered my face red with awkwardness. She took another hit and put out what was left of our weed. My cross fade had kicked in. She stepped out of the tub, opened the door, grabbed my arm and lead me out of our hot box. "I want to take my time, is that okay?" I nodded yes and laid on the all white bed.

"Bend over" she demanded. I bent forward sticking my ass up and my face down into the motel sheets. She gently rubbed my right cheek then immediately spanked the left one. I grabbed the fitted sheet and pressed my breasts into the bed. She continued to spank me with a stern yet gentle slap. My pussy dripped with excitement, I wanted it harder but I continued to let my bashfulness choke my words. She gave me a final strike and guided me to lay on my back. She placed a blindfold over my eyes. Panic. My heart began to pound. I hadn't been blindfolded before. I never trusted anyone enough to try. I bounced back and forth between not wanting to ruin the moment and my fear of not being in control. I laid there dizzy for what seemed like hours in cannabis time but was merely just seconds in a sober time zone. "She's not going to hurt you" I chanted in my head over and over. Suddenly I felt a cold line roll down my leg. Lotion. She began massaging my right leg, then on to the next working her way up my body. Slowly. My worry eased into anticipation. I waited for her hands to slide up my thighs. She stopped. I opened my eyes to darkness, forgetting about the blindfold. She moved to my arms out massaging toward my tits. She grabbed them tightly and sucked on my nipple. I gasped and clinched my legs. She grabbed my jaw to guide my mouth open and slipped her tongue in. Our tongues caressing one another. My heart echo bounced its way to my throat. "Relax" she whispered like smoke into my mouth. I inhaled hoping the words would indeed help me relax but nervousness overwhelmed every muscle in my body. I wanted this, it, her, everything but I couldn't make moves of my own. All I could do was consent, too scared to make a mistake and too inexperienced in my skills to take any control. I could handle men. Easy. But I didn't know how to handle her. There aren't directions for handling fire, wrangling dragons or pleasing Vixens. That didn't stop me from wanting to learn.

I tilted my head back to see under the blindfold. She bent over with her ass toward my face. Two fingers slid inside me. My abs tightening with every back and forth motion. She lend in as her tongue played with my clit. My back arched and I instinctively covered my mouth to hold back my cry of pleasure. She stopped and looked at me.

"Are you having fun?" She questioned. I took off my blindfold.

"Yes, of course!" I replied confused.

"Then I need you to make noises. I don't know what you like if you don't make any sounds"

"Okay, sorry".

I wanted to make noises but in Baptist school you can't moan when boys aren't allowed in your room after hours. All I knew was how to swallow the air that would carry the screams of a climax. I could've told her that, I should've told her that (I guess I should tell her that). Instead I awkwardly waited for our next position.

"Do you want a butt plug?" She kindly asked.

"Um maybe later" I mumbled.

The butt plug never happened that night. I wanted to try it but there was too much new. Too many bucket list items being checked off. I wanted butt plugs, anal beads, her to double penatrate me, pull my hair and sit on my face, yet there's only so many checks I can handle in one night.

She stood up next to the bed and I slid to the edge. She placed the vibrator on my clit and searched for a setting. Number 5 out of 7 sent me over. I held my breath trying to control the muscles in my body as she rubbed #5 back and forth across my pussy. The pulsing and vibration was too much for my clit to handle, I was going to cum. My body tensed and I held by breath but I remembered I needed to make sounds. The orgasm had already hit me. I let out the tail end of the moan I was holding in. She had no idea I came. I fucked that opportunity up. I still needed to catch my breath but before my exhale I felt the hard 8 inches of setting 6 inside me. It took what was left of my breath away. She pulled my legs around her hips and pounded into me. I had nothing to hold on to but her. I wailed with each stroke. Had no time to hold my moans even if I wanted. I hadn't been fucked this way. Not this fast, not with cock this big. She stopped and started rubbing my clit. Her rubbing turned into to light spanking. I giggled as she pulled out. My pussy was craving more. I opened my eyes as she crawled into the bed.

"I want you to ride it". I sat up with apprehension. I'd never done this position successfully before. I tried once with an ex but his dick was too short so it fell out. I was use to my missionary position one and done. I climbed on top of her trying to balance my weight. I was terrified to squash her. I reached down and maneuvered the cock inside. I, of course, hit the power button turning it off. Fuck.

"Oh my god!" I yelled in shock. I could feel it occupy every inch I had. It now didn't matter if it was off or on. I leaned back grabbing her legs and started moving my body up and down. She grabbed my waist. I hunched over to look in her eyes. I wanted to moan in her face. I wanted to show her I wasn't nervous anymore. Leaned down for a kiss and she started thrusting, I bounced along with her speed. My nipples grazing hers. My body tightened and shook. A wave of tingling warmth overcame my body. I opened my mouth to scream loud enough for the room next door and above to hear. My body gave out still on top of her. I needed to catch my breath. My cheek next to hers. "Good girl" she muttered. Who knew at 28 being called a girl would would be so pleasing. I rolled off her. She got up and slid the harness off. She crawled back into bed need next to me. I laid there planning my move. I was going to take control and without nervousness or embarrassment I was going to make her claw at the fitted sheet and scream loud enough for the room across the way to hear. Confident, I sat up look at her and as I opened my mouth to speak I realized my mouth was a desert. Fucking dry mouth. Pot consequences. She reached over kissed me good night and rolled over. I sat there with drought mouth and defeat. I laid back in my new found awkwardness. A sudden slight heaviness sat on my chest. She was handing me water. I drink half the bottle and handed it back. She grabbed my arm around her pulling me into the big spoon. "Relax" she whispered again. I let my body settle. I fell asleep thinking of all the things I'd do to her next time. It was only day one of our staycation. "Tomorrow night" I thought to myself. I'll impress her then.

I'm getting pretty tired of getting interrupted

Getting cut off like my notions aren't worth anyone's time.

Hushed because your theory is more entitled than my contemplation.

I'm pretty tired of being polite.

Of allowing you to finish your thought, forcing mine to pause for just a quick second

But seconds turn to moments and moments turn into distractions

Now your attention has fluttered away while my words slowly swallow down my throat.

Chugging sentences not allowed to exist for lack of room in the center of attention.

Even if by chance someone asked for my thoughts to continue, regurgitating them leaves a bitter taste of hating to repeat myself.

Speaking twice is distasteful

I process quickly and efficiently

I brainstorm and collect my ideas before I utter them into existence

So it really pisses me off when I can't fucking finish expressing them.

I've learned to calculate

I have probably rehearsed this story in my head to keep your nat like span from wandering. Wondering. Gone.

I'm getting tired of my feelings sliding into embarrassments corner

Not being heard activates the realization you're not as respected

But nor do I demand it

Polite never tells me when to say

Shut the fuck up, I'm talking

No, polite whispers in dog whistles songs of contempt wrapped in a pageant raised smile.

Composure.

Pose.

Acceptance of a silenced idea.

I'm really tired of allowing people to interrupt me.

As a child I imagined I'd grow up to be a woman

Instead I grew up to be apologetic.

A child sorry for eating cookies in my imagination

Absorbing crimes against the world I didn't commit but being a female means I've sinned regardless of my knowing

I've apologized for the past, present and future

For having brown eyes

For being black

For being female

For being apologetic all the damn time

One day I want to grow up properly

Become a women

Unapologetic

Walks through her day with true acquired confidence

Only uttering her words of freedom

"I ain't sorry"

And "You're welcome"

I've only met a few real women in my life

My Mom

My professor

My friend

My enemy

And the ghost of my potential

She haunts me

She stares at me waiting for the day I grow up and allow her to fully possess me

Lift me

Pull me from this well of sorry I've fallen in

Sorry for splashing

Apologies are thicker than water

Immersed neck deep

Swamped

Drifting around

Until I finally grow the fuck up

Until I ain't sorry

Motivation

What a fickle thing

Motivation

It's here

It's there

Mostly living in yesterday's and tomorrow's

Rarely today's

Always disappearing when I need it most

Slipping away as swiftly as it came

Burst of energy

I got this

Day one

Day two

Day......

Motivation off vacationing again

Sending post cards of determination not worth a damn

Stucked in the rut it tried to pull you out of

Seems like motivation got distracted halfway through

Always coming back with high hopes

and promises

Tricked in a whimsical state of mind

The temporary laziness defender

But procrastination it's biggest foe

Motivation

Easy to come by

Easier to say bye

The anti-discipline

Motivation, see you in a day or two

Until next time.

Some of us are meant to roam this earth alone.

Unlike those purposed to couple,

Endowed with fellowship,

Life long besties,

We seem to bump and bumble into temporary distractions.

Some lasting years, months, weeks.

Seem like seconds.

The companion blessed tend to make promises they can't keep.

"Friends forever "

"You can always count on me!"

Sounds sweeter than puppy love looks but be weary, sugar

Clouds rumble overwhelmingly when you least expect it

Time keepers true test

Call him

Text her

Wait

Waiting

Waited

And then no one answered.

All my friends are busy.

So I just keep roaming.

It's raining outside and my day was shitty

I'm a little cold but I'm not sure if it's due to weather or all my disappointments

I think I should have some tea

I turn on the kettle,

Pick a flavor,

And grab my favorite mug.

As the water boils so do my thoughts.

I turned off the stove.

Stare at my mug.

The day replays in my mind

Flooding worry and doubt that pour down my face.

Fuck it

Two shots of tequila instead

I'm awake.

2 minutes before my alarm.

Hate that.

Rub my eyes

Reach for my phone to see if the world ended over night.

It didn't.

Slum down the hall

Contemplating whether I really need this job

Contrary to popular belief Wednesday is the worst day of the week

The day before Friday Eve

Fucking Wednesday

I open the front door to see what this hump day has to offer

It hits me

That bright light pierced through my cloudy morning distain

The glow melting my Wednesday contempt

Sun

Palm trees

Blue sky

The warmth of a sunny California day

Soft whisper of a SoCal breeze

Negative thoughts slither back under my bed

The warm comfort of hope washing over

Breathe in

Eyes batter renewed exuberance

At night sadness, regret and failures drown me

Swallowed

But somehow the day reaches in and saves me

Warns off the shadows

Ignites my froze over faith

Shatters my cocoon of defeat and questioned self-worth

Breathe out

Hello Wednesday

My mouth speaks eloquence

My mind screams vulgarity

My eyes see pain

My heart beats hope

My soul demands passion

My legs request rest

My skin yeans for comfort

But my hands are still searching