A Recipe For Failure

When our poor choices has us playing the victim instead of reflecting and making a change.

A Recipe For Failure

Harlan’s golden hair blew in the air. He lived against the grain and didn’t abide by any man rules but his own. His smile was soft and angelic. He had a sexy smooth swag about himself which Megan couldn’t resist. The sight of his muscular body made her heart throb and skip a few beats. His voice was rememberable and sweet. He had that sexy southern drawl way of speaking; a slow, lazy way that suited her just fine. The way Harlan spoke, stayed on her mind. Niagara Falls would form between her legs, overflowing onto her clothes and bed.

A Recipe For failure

Megan always had a poor choice in men. The type with tattoos and a ponytail with their shirt sleeves rolled up. The kind of men who always swimed upstream. The dangerous, mystical and false full package type thinking they will take care of her for the rest of her life. Her Mr. Right always turned out to be Mr. Right now. Whenever she would get hurt or felt she was missing out on life, Megan instantly turns into an a wreck, an emotional cripple especially when things doesn’t go as she planned. Megan doesn’t take a stand. She fights for nothing and she’ll flee in a heartbeat. Afterwards she could be seen walking the streets as if a safe was dropped upon her carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and feeling sorry for herself. She’s the flamingo surrounded by a flock of pigeons, a sucker for anyone who shows her attention and has a kind word. A one way ticket to Shitzberg she’s holding. Megan’s slow to learn there’s no glory or medal given for suffering. No Purple Heart will be rewarded. When will she stop feeling sorry for herself and release the pain then move on?

The signs and the things we choose to ignore and refuse to see is often in front of us. A person has to be happy and comfortable with themselves before searching to find happiness through another person. The empty void will only remain until the proper adjustments are made.

Harlem, 

 

Heaven is at the foot of Mother…  

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/flee/ 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/missing/ https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/abide/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/mystical/