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.

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Stay

Too Fast

Traveling at the speed of light through the dark, humid night.

Mind poisoned with lustrous thoughts of his dark eyes, full, sinister lips and strong hands.

Driving too fast, feeling the surge of the adrenaline rush through the bloodstream.

Music pouring out of the speakers, bass rocking the leather seats and the smell of fast food waltzing through the interior of the car.

The distance between the two lovers needs to be bridged.

Lust settles upon the beating heart like a satin sheet and urgency creeps into the veins like poison.

Brimmed with emotions, the soft curves of her body crave for his hard touch.

Fireworks explode in the back of the mind, every sliver of innocence is shed and a wave of desire ripples through the darkness as the gap between the two lovers is closed.

Strange, foreign thoughts drift through the mind – white picket fences, freshly-cut lawns, homes in the suburbs and —

The intimacy is frighting.

Calm the nerves, cool the jets — slink out of the bed and melt into the pitch-black night again.

Too Fast