Stay

I sipped on a Daiquiri and listened to him joke with his friends. They were haughty – branded from head-to-toe in designer clothes, raced around the streets of L.A. in 7-series beamers and trophied silicone bimbos.

He was wasted, his speech was slurring, and his advances were getting bolder.

I peeled his sweaty palm off my bare knee, and stood up.

He stopped me. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” I lied.

Instead, I snuck out of the bar and strolled down the Hollywood Blvd. The air was warm and thick, polluted with pungent scents of weed, cigarettes and greasy food.

My nose bleeding heels walked across the stars, and I dodged the lecherous stares my black, skintight dress earned from the guys that guzzled beer and smoked cigarettes in the nearby bars, and searched for a drunken conquest to take home.

I ignored the salacious invitations, and frowned at the loud whistles.

The man I ditched at the bar was a rebound. He was not you. He was just an aftermath of your nonchalance.

You were right.

I lost myself amidst the bright lights, phony glamour life and pretentious prima donnas. I stabbed you in the back by craving the spotlight – but all I ever wanted was your attention. Not sure where I went wrong.

You got angry; called me an attention whore and marched out of my life.

But, she’s not me.

You blocked my number – was that really necessary? Yet, my name is still on your lips. You still ask about me. If you don’t give a damn anymore then why bother wondering if I’m still alive or dead? Doesn’t make sense.

Yes, I was playing a role, but you were being a coward.

You said I hurt you, but you hurt me first. I bruised your ego a couple of times, but you wounded my pride. You can’t just kiss me and feign ignorance to the feelings that surfaced in the pit of your stomach.

You didn’t want to talk about it then, but what about now? Don’t say it’s complicated. It’s not. I hate that word.

Now be a man, own up to your mistakes. Stop playing games and call me out on mine. Let’s face each other, fist fight through our differences and walk away like grown-ups, not churlish kids.

Stay

Molten Chocolate Crush Topped with Açai Berries

Bruised lungs, cracked skull, battered heart and tortured soul – ooh – the first sign of love.

Hypnotized. Sleep deprived. Filled to the brim with emotions.

Devour the heart. Sip on the soul. And keep that porcelain body warm all night long.

Stream sunlight into the darkest corners of the mind and illuminate sinful thoughts of a man with a permanent frown.

Nourish the roots, reap the harvest and protect the flowers that blossom with forgiveness.

Welcome the flaws, eschew insecurities, and fight for the rights to love unconditionally.

Strange and addictive – these feelings are raw, overpowering and completely unrealistic.

Serenade to the ears that will gladly listen to the lies from a lustful mouth.

Don’t fight the current, cave into the passion, follow the heart that never stops beating.

Throw in a life saver for this heart is drowning in a vast ocean of love.

Molten Chocolate Crush Topped with Açai Berries