The Divorced Woman and the Single Man: Rainy Day Conversation

Written By: Sapphire and Demez

Her Words

I’ve allowed life to make me a non-factor, a common denominator dividing my time by my hurt, fears, and shame multiply that by each parasitic relationship that I allow to attach to my existence and I’ve become the shell of a being that you see before your eyes trying to camouflage and maintain . Playing Russian Roulette with my future pulling the trigger hoping the sight of my own tears will make my life clearer but before I disappear into myself, a sin in itself, wash me in your flood. Make me whole again.

His Words

Hand me the gun so I can play Russian Roulette in your place. One bullet, two bullets, three bullets. BANG! My fears explode all over my ambitions. BANG! My hurt and shame bury me in an avalanche of guilt that I’m not able to make you see just how much you do matter. They say God gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers so that makes you a motherfucking general with the wars you’ve fought! Those are not tears of pain you feel but tears of healing. That shell you wear isn’t camouflage it’s just the caterpillar making way for the butterfly. Step into the water, drown in your greatness, sink in your emotion and rise whole again and better than ever.

Her Words

Allowed the wetness to cleanse me in its grace, wash me in its flood and renew my spirit; remind me of who I used to be. Living inside the confines of these walls is like self-incarceration masquerading as my life and hopes to delude me, dull my senses and institutionalize me so that I’m no longer living. I’m merely existing; coping, heart beat fading each day, each moment, each second…just breathe; but always running from me. Repenting for my sins for the abundant life that I claim, that you gave, that I’ve refused to run after for fear of these walls shutting in, this floor giving way, and my circumstances being to circumstantial but I’ve heard “NO” before so what the fuck is different now? Me?!…

His Words

Darkness consuming me, the only sound I hear is the dirt hitting the casket. I scream until my dry throat burns, I beat the wooden box until my hands are bloody. I promise God that I’ll never lie, that I’ll bring him a million souls if he gets me out. I promise Satan the same, that he can have my soul as long as I’m not buried alive. A million regrets and what ifs go through my mind as the sounds of the dirt get further and further away. I can feel my heartbeat slowing as the oxygen leaves, I can feel my head spinning as I take my last couple of breaths. I close my eyes only to feel your touch, your soft hand on my face, your tears giving me life in a place where death just lived. Your sins make you human, your walls, your cage, they make you relatable. You are different now, “NO” is “NO” longer a word in your vocabulary. I won’t remind you of who you used to be because who you are now is the woman that saved me.

Her Words

Let each drop not be taken for granted but allow it to restore the seed that you planted in this vessel. Wash me white as snow, not for my sake only but so that I may be that, that you instilled inside of me; so that I may believe again so that my life and existence won’t be in vain. So that I don’t live my life with my past regrets wishing upon all that I haven’t done and decisions I should have made but that my future may be the outcome of a present God. For this I ask that you wash me in your rain.

His Words

Romans 5:5 Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us. Let that love wash over you, let your heart nurture and grow that seed until the world sees what I see, until you see what I see. Things you haven’t done can be done, decisions you should have made weren’t made because he was protecting you from you. Close your eyes and allow him to pour the blessings you deserve over you, allow him to wash you in salvation. Open your eyes and be whole. Open your eyes and smile because you are his Angel and perfect in my eyes. Your existence can never be in vain because your being motivates everything in me. My existence is tied to yours. We will grow these seeds together for the sun will rise tomorrow.

Never Ending Nights…

I haven’t been feeling well lately. I can’t really describe it, I just haven’t. I’ve been to the doctor, taken test and they keep telling me I’m good. But these headaches, sleepless nights, just feeling weird, I know my body.

I don’t think anything will happen to me when I go to sleep but I seriously don’t have a good feeling and God forbid I don’t wake up in the morning I just want my family to know I love you all, everything you’ve done for me, the support. My mother especially, I haven’t been the closest son in the world and for that I’m sorry. You’ve been really good to me.

To all my readers, you all changed my life. Before you, before writing I don’t think I had a year left in me before I took the cowards way out of just gave up on life. The support changed me, it made me not just a better writer but a better man.

There isn’t a day I don’t think about a son. I don’t write about it as much anymore but the thoughts never fade. Whenever I see these beautiful women with these beautiful children and deadbeat dads I often wonder why can’t her and that child belong to me? If something shall happen to me that will be my biggest regret.

The fact that I don’t have someone to carry on my DNA, my legacy.

I could just be overacting and everything will be fine tonight and these next couple nights but if I’m being honest I’m having these dreams where I can see my funeral. They seem so real, so vivid. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t sleep because I can’t stand to see the tears of all the women I’ve loved and my family.

Just pray for me tonight, pray for my health and my sanity. I’ve been drinking a lot more lately and the doctors gave me some sleeping pills. I try and write until I can’t keep my eyes open but that doesn’t always work.

I love all of you and whatever happens, don’t forget me.  228263_581014860585_118401058_31484293_5420516_n

London… 12 Times A Year

letter-xy6k4pEvery city has the perfect view from a hotel room, in Chicago it was Lake Michigan, in New York it was the Hudson, in Miami it was South Beach. Some people loved sleeping in their own bed, I wasn’t one of those people, I loved hotels. Room service, new restaurants, bottles of liquor at three in the morning.

Even when I came home I would spend a night or two in a hotel if I knew I was going right back on the road anyway. There really wasn’t a waterfront view in Downtown Houston but it was beautiful none the less. Standing on the balcony, watching the sun rise, orange juice and vodka in hand. The view was amazing, I could see all of Downtown, the Medical Center, Minute Maid Park.

I soaked in details like men soaked in beautiful women, there was a story in every image, in every conversation.

Number nine, last night was number nine.

Twelve times a year, once a month she would come to me. San Antonio, Boston, Orlando but mostly right here in our city. I don’t know what she told him to get away and if I was honest with myself I probably didn’t want to know anyway.

Nine times this year we’ve made love in a hotel room, ate room service and showered together. Laughed and cuddled, she would talk about her aspirations, I would talk about writing.

February was New Orleans.

April was Austin.

Once a month she was mine, once a month my life felt normal. Watching her sleep, the sheet barely covering her ass, it was a perfect ass. Her hair on the pillow, the tattoo on her shoulder a constant reminder that she would wake up and leave at any minute.

She’d stop asking me to spend more time with her months ago, I’d stopped asking her to leave him a year ago. I wouldn’t be boyfriend number two but I couldn’t imagine a world without her. She didn’t want to be my once a month fling but she couldn’t leave me alone either.

Neither one of us was a victim, we were both adults. She had a husband, I had a girlfriend, I had writing. I climbed in the bed and wrapped my arms around her, she curled up and placed her head in my chest.

“Do you ever sleep?” She had the sexiest morning voice ever.

I pushed her hair away from her face, “Writers don’t sleep, we watch and learn.” I kissed her, her eyes were still closed. She was still tired but I needed to hear her voice, to make some more memories with before the clock struck midnight.

“How long have you been watching, what did you learn?”

She wrapped her leg around my thigh, she was naked, I was in boxers. I could feel her lips on my leg. She was always wet, especially in the morning. It was a feeling I could get used to but I wouldn’t allow myself to get used to. She kissed my neck, I kissed her forehead.

“I learned that you have a small scar on the bottom of your ass.” I rubbed my hand across it. “I learned that you never move when you sleep, you stayed in the same spot almost all night. Sometimes you talk but I could barely make out what you were saying.” I ran my finger across her lips, I could feel her hand on her favorite thing.

“I don’t move when I sleep because when my baby was nine months she fell out the bed and it scared me half to death. So I would sleep with her against the wall and never move, I had to feel her close to me. If you really knew me, if you were around me every day you wouldn’t be so into me. Sometimes I hate myself, I hate you for what we’re doing.” I took my finger away from her lip and wiped the tears from her eyes.

I knew what she meant, I wasn’t married but my girlfriend was a good woman. But I didn’t love her, she was someone to take to events, to have dinner with. To text when I was waiting in the airport or feeling lonely.

But no matter what she wouldn’t be the women who’s warmth I was absorbing, who’s tears I was drying. Who I stayed up all night watching and studying, writing about. She could never be my inspiration.

“Thou shall not covet another man’s wife. I think about that line every time I’m about to touch you, about to see you. I wonder if I’m going to hell because of you, because I look forward to seeing you more than I’ve ever looked forward to praying or going to church.”

She pulled it out and climbed on top of me, there were still tears in her eyes, the sheet was tangled at our waist. We’d stopped using condoms in March, I can’t tell you why, we never talked about it but a part of me wanted to get her pregnant. Everything was in slow motion, her hands on my chest, my hands on her ribs.

Her tears falling, lust and pain going hand in hand. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, she was starting to move faster, grind faster.  

“Am I worth hell Mez, am I worth your soul?”

She opened her eyes and looked down at me, they were the most beautiful and devious eyes I’d ever seen.

“Even pussy this good isn’t worth hell.”

She smiled, put her nipples on my chest and kissed me with those full lips.

My mouth may have said she wasn’t but my actions were saying something totally different. Maybe we would be together in hell.


Walking Down the Aisle

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