If A Man Ever Asked Me

I would say that men want a sweet woman; they just don’t know it yet. Let me elaborate and further delve into detail about what the venture would entail. You tell me you don’t want me because you’re afraid that you would ruin me. Whatever that means. I mean, I know I wear my heart on my sleeve so when shit hits the fan it would be harder to leave but it won’t hit the fan. Your assumptions would be a manifestation of prior experiences that habituated you into this state of mind. As I explain, you wouldn’t understand this so you would stay behind that imaginary line in an effort not to cross it. Like trying to attach the end of each magnet, you would strengthen the border. So you would look for what you’re used to; an untamable vixen with a mix of fire, spontaneity, and something else. She would ignite that spark, and that spark would flame, and the flame would spread and you’d drown in that shit and she would love it, and like hell, you’d play limbo in limbo with Dante if it meant you could do it again. I know you wouldn’t regret it and certainly never forget it. But how could you, anyway? When that love is a forest and the blaze continues to spread? That’s the feeling of adrenaline and she doesn’t want it to end and that’s precisely the moment when problems begin. Cause now you’re getting tired and you want a sense of calm; engulfed in smoked clouds yet all you want to do is see the sky once more. If even just a glimpse of silver blue across it as a reminder that this is the present moment in all your forgotten glory. So you’ll remember the sweet woman, the one without a story. The woman who smiles at blue skies and today. All you’ve chosen to see is an ethereal being that exudes what you’ve been missing. You question the possibility of attaining the flames of one and the flowing feelings of another. What you don’t and won’t realize is that I am aware that there is a time and place for everything. You can’t merge night and day without resulting in an eclipse, as beautiful as it is, the moment is always fleeting. What I’m saying is, I hold that fire within. Had you taken the time, you would have noticed. Sweet girls don’t exude their fire on the surface.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s