The Economics of Intimacy

When you have to pay to play to acquire and keep her attention.

The Economics of Intimacy

I found an old letter you had written laying on the floor under the bed, yesterday.

It had to have been about two years old, exactly from today. I remember the day when you told me you loved me.

It was on a Saturday and we made love for the very first time on a Tuesday, approximately 1am.
You turned me out and blew my mind then disappeared with my wallet like a thief in the night while I was sleeping.

I was foolish to believe you were coming back on Sunday.

You became the no-call and the no-show other people talk about, the full of disappointment type of a person.

Then the reality of it all smacked me the face. I’ve just been played.

Knowing that I lost you when in actuality you were never mine in the first place.
The sad and pathetic affair. A victim of loneliness is a game I wish to never ever play again.

 How strange things become when it all changes over money. Your explanations were fragments of truth that wasn’t all that clear.

The reality of it all left me picking up the pieces of my face from off the floor feverishly trying to place it back together carefully.

Knowing all along if I don’t pay, supply the demand, you were going to eventually leave.

The price of the candy shop and the harsh reality of a lonely older man and a younger woman with invisible strings attached.

The scar left upon my back. The invisible rope around my neck. The many lessons learned from being thirsty without a cup. Thanks for the dark memories.

Your letter along with the picture of you in my mind reminds me of you all the time and my state of mind back when I made a desperate reach for love, affection and attention. God damn, how some men can be so desperate.

Harlem,

Heaven is at the foot of Mother…

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MiracleChallenge : Week 10

MiracleChallenge # 4