Today was the day from hell…
So I drowned my sorrows with salacious thoughts
And flirtatious emails…
“7’2” doesn’t have a clue…

A virtual man cave where the men all pat each other on the back for a "job well done" (or not done at all in some cases), grunt, and scratch their balls...

He smelled of gumdrops butterscotch and lollipops :)
My nose nestled in the nook of his neck. Breathing him in.
Nibbling softly, delicately.
Pulling him in with my...sweetness.
Tender kisses. Passionate. Erotic. A violent exploration of the
other's possessions.
Nothing was off limits as we devoured each other at my door...Mel

All I want for Christmas is sexy chocolate wrapped in boxer briefs underneath my mistletoe...

White chocolate
dark chocolate
milk chocolate...

I'm just saying...

Turkey: The Day Before, In Bullets

• Going to sleep at 2:30 in the morning is not what’s hot in the streets. Especially when you have to wake up at 6:30 and crawl to work with the rest of massah’s multi-colored minions…only to be tortured by the pain of silence and the relentless ripping of paper.
• Santa’s elf is at it again !
• And who drank all the got damn coffee anyway!?!?! What if I wanted a cup???
• Hell I don’t even drink coffee.
• Intelligence: That which many claim to have yet are tragically unaware of what it means.
• “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Mind”….Should be the title of my life…
• Just because I talk about sex a lot, does not mean that I am having it…at all. It is such a touchy subject. Especially for women. But why? Expressing my desire for affection does not imply that I am loose. It simply confirms that I am human.
• I’m in a very sexual state of mind.
• I feel like breaking out in song and dance, or yelling at or slapping the shit out of someone just to penetrate the silence and break the monotony that is this office.
• Here it is the Wednesday after many moons past. Each one met with a shared thought, a kind word, or a genuine “I miss you”. But this one is different. This Wednesday is absent of expectation and hope. This Wednesday is absent of you.
• I am making a b-line for Sally’s on Friday. I need a blow dryer like nobody’s business. This wash and go shit is not cool! I’m tired of exposing the world to the abundance that is my forehead! I want my bangs back…STAT!
• This incessant game of tug-of-war is bringing me to my knees. I don’t wanna fight anymore. Waving the white flag.
• I surrender mutha fucka!!!

We were only kids.
I 14. He 16.
Everyone knew what was going on, but knew nothing at all.
"The virgin catholic school girl getting it with the neighborhood deviant."
We would sneak out back after dark away from the light so no one could see.
My pleasure and pain...
His tongue tickled the rim of my mouth.
The sweetness of his breath finding its way inside as he gently fondled my innocense.
Our adolescent minds too frail to fully understand what we were doing...
Breathing each other in...
Taking each other in...He

“In my whole life, no one has ever looked at me the way that you do. No one has ever, touched my face or brushed my hair out of my eyes like you do. And maybe this is really selfish but, it’s not just you I’m going to miss. It’s the way I feel when I’m with you that I’m going to miss even more.”

— Shelby Merrick, “Higher Ground”

I thought about you a lot today, and while you are not mine to think about, I still find myself missing you...though you were never mine to miss...

I want him to throw me on his desk, spread my legs apart, and bury his face in my nerve endings...

SOMETIMES I FORGET TO BREATHE.
THIS HAPPENS TO BE ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS.

Beanie You Are...

The air that I breathe
My reason for living
You are my stars in the sky
Every word in every book in all the world
You are the beat of my heart
The blink of my eyes
My favorite piece of candy J
You are the smile on my face
The laughter in my belly
You are the tears I cry at night
And the song that lulls me to sleep
You are my peace in the midst of the storm
The break in the clouds after the rain and
The rainbow that colors the sky
My sunshine
You are the smell of fresh baked cookies
And homemade apple pie
You are the blood in my heart that pumps through my veins
That gives me the strength to push through the pain
Beanie you are…
You are my everything.
I love you,
Mommy

"If Only Looks Could Kill" Brave New Voices 2010

Mountains and Molehills

　
You said I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.
But I made you a mountain when you really were a molehill. A tree of mere shrubbery. A weed amongst the roses.
And I know these words are harsh but I’m working with a prosthetic heart.
Venomous blood pumping through my veins
Numb. Impervious. Relentlessly unrelenting.
Basically I’m giving you exactly what you’ve given me over the years.
This is not vindication.
It’s just how I feel.
I don’t.
Feel.
Anything.
Anymore.
And yes, I have changed. But I’m still Nina. Cold as ice, hard as nails, no nonsense, no bullshit Nina.
This is the monster you created.
You broke me down to hurriedly put me together again. And now, like an old jigsaw puzzle, the pieces don’t fit like they used to.
We don’t fit like we used to.
That buttery shit that lovers do, we don’t do. Instead we give it to “others” and do.
I carried the weight for our demise.
Thought my shit was ruining what we had.
But how can I sabotage a mirage.
Should’ve never let you get that close to me.
I. gave. You. All of me. The very best of me.
Made. You. My. Life when I wasn’t even your wife.
While you gave me pieces of you in parts.
One word sentences. No word answers.
Everything was a mystery.
Consistent inconsistency
And I only seem to matter when it no longer mattered.
When I pushed myself through wait. Forced myself passed go.
No longer stifled by your absence or lonely in your presence.
Overreacting? I’m not reacting.
Anymore.

...I have a small frame but I come from a long lineage of big lips, hips, and asses.
Nigga my roots run deep.
No I am not Nicki Minaj thick. And I don’t have Kim Kardashian’s ass, but I am mutha fuckin beautiful.
So please, dear sir, spare me with your attempts to break me down to bring me down with your caveman thinking and your animalistic antics.
Do not compare me to the others of lovers you have or have had in the past.
I am in a class all my own. The mother of your child. Meant to be celebrated not berated or rated by the stigma of standards society has placed on women…
your women.



nina

I was told that i seem to express myself a lot easier through my writing, which, as of late, is quite true.
Anger and resentment, love and dangerous lust fueling the will of my pen...
This piece is evidence of such. It was written a few of months ago in response to a situation that had reached its limit...


The Door…

I can not seem to shake this constant desire to fulfill such an immoral fantasy.
I want him in my life and wrong or right, I won’t let up until he appears at my door
Arms outstretched ready to love me into submission, or fuck me into submission…
Which ever comes first.
AND burying these feelings or hiding my truths would be cowardice and completely out of character.
So I wear it on my chest. A scarlet letter (only green because that’s my favorite color)
A badge of dishonor and shame. Mental mutilation brought on by turbulent tribulations.
Killing myself with empty expectations.
Shit’s exhausting.
AND I am finding myself defined by a man rather than defining myself by the love that I truly am.
BUT the way he pulled me in that night at my door had me open, willing, and ready to explore every facet of WE
So I blame him for giving even the slightest inclination of an open invitation to
“come on in but close the door”
Because this tiny indiscretion was ours and ours alone.
AND every word that he spoke (or wrote because he rarely called) was like music to my ears (or my eyes although the eyes don’t hear)
SO I jumped in head first neglecting to read the fine print
I wasn’t trying to dissect his dialect
I was too busy falling in and letting go
Holding on to every syllable that pierced my soul.
THEN a change in disposition caught my full attention
HIS mental deviation left me in an awkward position.
While all I wanted was to kiss him
Grab a hold of him fuck the shit out of him and keep it moving…
As friends
Because wasn’t that his plan for me?
To screw me up against the wall repeatedly
Having his way with me physically, mentally, and emotionally
Bruising me?
BUT he did say he didn’t want to fuck me too hard because after all, I am fragileThe delicate flower that he wanted to devour…
Or was that my peach?
Either way it doesn’t matter because right now he’s far beyond my reach
And his formless thoughts are thoughtless and absent of any traces of me
AND the pieces of me that he stole are irreplaceable
As are the indelible whispers he left in my ear.
SO here I stand naked as the day I was born
Cloaked in confusion and shame
Praying for the day that I forget his name
And that door is just a distant memory.
　
　

“I think it takes most men [a little] more time to figure it all out . They will do exactly what you allow them to do, for as long as you allow…and if you get strong enough to stop rewarding inappropriate behavior, either he starts to evolve or he trades you in for a weaker model.”

— Ms. Erykah Badu

Why is it so difficult for people to open their mouths and say exactly how they feel? Filter free. To speak their truths whole heartedly without warrant or regret. Instead of hiding behind a mask of lies. Satisfied their fabricated-selves. Tragically afraid to unearth the authentic beauty that lies within the truth????

9-29-10

This city is filled with so many beautiful men!
Next time I see one, I think I'll snatch him
up and put him in my pocket...for safe keeps :)

Nikki Giovanni: Cotton Candy On A Rainy Day...

don’t look now
i’m fading away

into the gray of my mornings
or the blues of every night

is it that my nails
keep breaking

or maybe the corn
on my secind little piggy

things keep popping out
on my face or of my life

it seems no matter how
i try i become more difficult
to hold

i am not an easy woman
to want

they have asked
the psychiatrists … psychologists …
politicians and social workers
what this decade will be
known for

there is no doubt … it is
loneliness

9-23-2010

“True love leads you to God. A person should be so in love with you that they’re willing to be lessened in order for you to see the God in yourself. Love that leads you to a person is idolatry.” -Pastor Sean McMillan
Gives an entirely new meaning to “looking for love in all the wrong places.” , huh?
But, sadly, that has become my story.
A redundancy of men flowing in and out of my life filling my ear and my space with empty words and meaningless gestures.
Hidden agendas and underlying innuendo.
Distorting reality. Giving false hope.
Hiding behind a mask of lies
Wildly afraid to face their own truths.
I desperately seeking approval in the vacant eyes of  man.
Hoping to fill a loveless void left by an absentee father.
Blindly searching for companionship, affection, and protection.
Waiting to hear those words.
Stupidly waiting for “I love you”.

5-13-2010




I was about fourteen years old when I wrote my first piece. It was a letter to my mom apologizing for not being the daughter that she needed me to be; for not living up to her expectations; for disappointing her time after time with my unfortunate unforeseen disarray of teenage drama. It was a letter apologizing to my brother for not being there for him when he needed me most; for not being around to pick him up from school or to help him with his homework. It was a letter to my boyfriend apologizing for having left him too fast too soon. It was a letter to my teachers apologizing for not completing my homework assignments or participating in class. It was a letter to myself apologizing for not loving me enough; for not respecting me enough; for not being strong enough to handle the perils that life had thrown my way. It was a suicide note that I had written to myself in second period English. A note that was never meant to see the outside of that classroom because I was too chicken shit to follow through. I balled up the note and, absent mindedly, tossed it in the trash as I exited Sister Mary Catherine's class. Moments later, I realized that ending my life was a dastardly way out of handling the complications my teenaged soul faced. I needed another means of self expression. I needed to create something. Something meaningful. Something that I had hoped would one day touch someone else's life and pull them back from the ledge of utter self destruction. So I wrote! Every chance I got I wrote. Poetry, letters, short stories, journals. I wrote.

One would think that after all of these years of writing to myself about myself, I'd be exhausted of such indirect self-absorption, but I'm not. At 32 I continue to use my writing as a creative medium of self expression. Inspired by passion, anger, beauty, love, life, writing is my outlet, to say the very least.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the suicide note that I so cleverly discarded. Well Sister Mary Catherine just so happened to be digging in the trash, I suppose out of sheer boredom, and somehow retrieved my lovely note. The next day I was pulled into my guidance counselor's office and later had to endure a horrifying three visits to the shrink of my dreams. I just blamed it all on the absence of my father and wrote about it later.

Erykah Badu "Ye Yo" (live)

These Three Words...

Time to part ways, and though only for a moment, however fleeting, that moment could last forever. With that very thought in mind, and in a moment of impulse these three words hung from my lips. These three words I could not say…butterflies danced in my belly. These three words plagued with complications yet riddled with simplicity. These three words I’m fighting, biting my tongue. Heart pounding, sweating with anxiety, questioning…what if HE doesn’t love ME back???  So these three words I’ll keep to myself until the next time becomes the right time and the right time becomes “I love you”.




nina

GRAVITY...

“Gravity, stay the hell away from me…gravity wants to bring me down…”
Strings tugging at US
Pulling us further apart
Emotional tug of
War of the roses
Modern day clash of the titans
Synonymous is now anonymous
I don’t know him anymore
And the question remains
Did I ever really know?
Our song is no longer our song
Cant really say THIS is us Falling In Love
Gravity’s got us falling APART
Opposite ends of the spectrum
Fighting to hold on
Subliminal messages got me hating us
I’m breaking away from us
fighting the ledge
On the edge
Of diabolical warfare
Word games laced with devious mind games
Its not the same to me
This is not the way it used to be
But maybe this is the way its SUPPOSED to be
Emotional recession
Reminiscent of the great depression
Second guessing and stressing
Falling to our knees in confession
Tired of crying, slowly dying
I‘d be LYING if I said I didn’t love you
But I cant take this anymore
And the truth is, THIS is not WORTH fighting for…


nina

Your Letter...

Today I made the conscious decision to let you go. Its crazy because you made the exact same decision months ago. I guess its about time I follow suit, huh?
But its not that easy for me. And, for sake of sounding like a broken record, I wont mention that which you already know.
But I will say that these last few months have been mentally and emotionally numbing. Still, I held on. For whatever reason, I held on. I Refused to give in to the inevitable change looming around us. Hoping against hope, and for a brief moment, believing, that you would make your way back to me so that we could finish what we started.
Because I was looking forward to us. I believed in the picture you painted. The colorful plume of possibilities you splattered across that page drew me in. So I dropped my guard and held on.
But then it dawned on me, what was “ours” was never really ours to begin with. A mere figment of my imagination. A mirage conjured up to fill a void that had long been abandoned.
It was never real. It was all a dream. A sick masochistic untruth that I took pleasure in.
The possibility of you calling me or ringing my bell. Intimate conversation over green tea and Sade. You drowning your sorrows between my legs. Me letting go and giving in to that which I truly desired…you.
A dream deferred.
But now that my eyes are half way open, and my heart almost free, I let go.
After all, what’s the sense in holding on to something that runs from my touch and avoids my reach?
So take this as the last hoorah!
Its been a bumpy ride, but worth every bruise.

Blessings,

nina

...

My intention was never to exact revenge.
It was merely an attempt at freedom.
Sweet emancipation from my thoughts and limitations
It was me going after what I wanted without really caring about
The repercussions.
Because, to me, being safe meant restriction. Not living. Not growing.
So I let go.
We let go…
We shed our inhibitions and gave in to something wildly beautiful…
We surrendered…
We surrendered to freedom.

nina

7-21-2010

“You think with your eyes, so you’re easy to fool…”
He is a very handsome man…and I’m pretty sure, married or not, he has plenty of women throwing the panty drawers his way.
But that’s not me. I’ve never been one to throw my coochie at a dude just because he was fine.
Hell, I’m fine too. So I don’t need to use my cookie to vie for a man’s affections.
Besides, That’s wasn’t us. That’s not what we were on. What was ours was different.
We were friends. We had a connection…or so I’d like to think.
Truth be told, initially, I was terrified of him coming to see me. I didn’t know his life story. What he had seen or been through. Didn’t know if he was on that nutty shit or not…
So I was hesitant to take that chance.
But I’m glad I did…
My intent was not to lure him into my lair and have my way with him. Yes, the attraction was there…but I was fully cognizant of his situation.
Al Bundy!
I respected that.
Then something happened.
The thoughts became words. The words turned into action.
We kissed.
And for the first time in a long time, I remembered.
I remembered wanting him to see me in the fourth grade. Uniform and pigtails. Riding the school bus. Crushing hard.
I remembered seeing him in high school. His senior prom…But I was sure he had forgotten me by then.
After all, fourth grade had been so long ago. I was sure he wouldn’t remember.
I remembered going to see him my senior year in high school.
How it all went down was a blur. But I remembered being in that room with him…alone. Only wanting to kiss him.
But even through remembering, I still said nothing. I couldn’t believe that I was finally getting what I wanted. A distant memory once suppressed, finding its way to the surface after all those years.
But I soon learned, just because it looks good, sounds good, smells good, hell maybe even tastes good, don’t mean its good for you.

7-10-2010

Loving you has become the most difficult and daunting task I have ever had to endure.
I feel like we’ve been down this road a million times before; hit this same wall repeatedly time after time. Yet we continue to torture ourselves and each other with empty promises and expectations. And when things don’t work out, I’m usually the one to blame. When in reality, I’m the one who tried the hardest. I’m the one who held on, held out, and fought tooth and nail, while you sat on the sidelines observing, and laughing, but never caring. Making me look like the fool. The fool who thought it could, but never would, turn into something beautiful. Something we created together…

Fuck me for dreaming.

Fuck you! Fuck it! Fuck off!!

Fuck low self esteem
Fuck not knowing your worth
Fuck not loving yourself
Fuck not wanting to love open and free for fear of getting hurt
Fuck fear
Fuck getting hurt
Fuck being bruised
Fuck bitterness
Fuck defense mechanisms
Fuck limitations
Fuck not being yourself
Fuck shrinking to fit the mold
Fuck the mold
Fuck your pride
Fuck self doubt
Fuck not knowing yourself, loving yourself, and respecting yourself enough to know that you deserve nothing but the best
Fuck your little scraps of love, I deserve the real thing…all of it
Fuck you and your opinion of me
What you think of me is really none of my business
Fuck keeping up with the Jones’s Who are they anyway?
Be an individual fuck the Jones’s
Fuck vulnerability
Fuck being misunderstood
Fuck you dear sir for taking my heart years ago and never giving it back
Fuck heart ache
Fuck these tears
Fuck you for not wanting me
Just because you don’t doesn’t mean no one else will
Fuck giving up on love
Quitting is for suckers
And I may be a fool but I’m no sucker
Fuck failure
Fuck restraint
Fuck biting my tongue to keep from hurting your feelings
Fuck your feelings you hurt mine first
Fuck you dumb stupid married men who think its ok to remove your wedding band and hop about as if you’re not married.
Silly rabbit
Fuck “acceptable” infidelity; thinking that its ok to have a chick/dick on the side so long as you’re taking care of business at home. You lost that right the minute you took those vows.
Fuck you young punk fucks who run around toting guns and taking lives
Don’t you know you’re only killing yourselves?
Put down the guns and put up your dukes
Better yet, pick up a book
Fuck everyone who is reading this and judging me for saying “fuck’ too much
If you don’t like it feel free to turn the page…better yet, close the book
Your closed mindedness is not welcome here
Am I not allowed to express myself?
Fuck you for telling me I have a bad attitude
don’t you think I already know that?
You son of a biscuit eating doo doo head
Fuck you! Fuck it! Fuck off!


That is all…

Day 33:

My heart is in my stomach. I swallowed it in hopes of pooping it out, cleaning it up, removing the hurt, and starting anew....
No such luck.
"Why is it so easy to love yet so stupidly hard to let go?" Asked the fool.
But am I such a fool for wanting him so?
My soul is clinched to his and I don't want to let go.
I want to hold on to him for dear life
or until my fingers bleed and my hands become numb
and my soul impervious to the fallacies and untruths that once fell from his lips.
I'm not a huge fan of "hate", but today I HATE!
I hate the empty feeling of uncertainty; of not knowing.
Blinded still, my heart leads me in the darkness,
guides my way to his place, to his space, to his face.
And with one brush of his lips, and just a hint of his breath,
I am hooked.
And suddenly the fear doesn't matter anymore.
I'm all in....

love.

I still remember how your lips feel
The taste of your tongue, the sweetness of your breath
I still remember…
your touch
My back, my ass, pulling me close
Your arms wrapped around me. We breathe. One body
I still remember…
your eyes. Piercing right through me
The devious glares. The quizzical stares haunt me in my sleep
I still remember…
Lip prints stain the mug from which you once sipped
The scent of you still lingers in my hair tickling my senses
Remnants of you, a body of evidence outlines the couch on which you once sat
I still feel you
With every thought there is a reminder
With every reminder there is pain
But I still remember
I still remember, do you?


nina

Closure.

What a coward I’ve become!
Instead of fessing up and telling the truth, I scoured in the corner and said the first thing the came to mind, a lie!
I was never more ashamed of myself. More so for my behavior over the past few days.
My plate was over its capacity until last night.
He came over. The mood was dull and dry.
Unbearable.
I was nonchalant, unattentive, and somewhat cold.
He was dry, irritable, lost, and short.
Understandable.
Clearly things weren’t working out.
A dream deferred.
So ending it was for the best, right?
We fell asleep real awkward like.
He at the foot of the bed, me in fetal position at the head of the bed.
No contact at all whatsoever.
That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right?
When you break-up with someone, do you still have to comply with the rules as far as sleeping in the same bed?
We both woke up at around 2:40 a.m.
Me to wrap my hair, he to pee.
Back in bed, tossing and turning, air filled with anxiety and uncertainty.
Awkward silence. We decided to talk.
Sad that we couldn’t see passed our childish stubborn ways and allow the greatness that once was to consume us once again.
A few hugs. kisses.
He spooned me to sleep.
I woke up overcome with emotion…sex, lust, want, sadness, hope…all nestled in my body.
We parted ways.
No “I love you”. No “See you later”.
Simply “Goodbye”
CLOSURE.

nina

Reprise….


I woke up to his kisses this morning. “Give me a hug.” he said as we lay in bed. His legs wrapped around me, he covering me like a blanket. The warmth of his breath on the nape of my neck. I listened intently as he told me his story. History through his words, honest words. And gestures, funny animated gestures. I contemplated getting out of bed, but my body was too heavy and my mind was elated by this man; this beautiful man now cradling me in his arms. “ Don’t ever let me go” I thought... “Don’t ever let me go.”


THIS is now…I feel like sunshine at night and moonlight in the morning .
CONFUSED.
I woke up to the sun beaming through my window…Laying next to him smelling of cigarettes and stale liquor…He came in at about 1:40am stinky as hell wanting to lay up under me…I don’t think so! GO take a shower, put on some fresh pj’s, brush your teeth…then and only then, can you hold me to sleep!
Not sure what my deal is, but I have become increasingly annoyed by him over the last couple of weeks.
The fairytale is over and reality has set in!
NOW, when we wake in the morning, he’s blasting his music and talking at the top of his lungs.
NOW, when he speaks, every word that falls from his tongue, irritates the shit out of me.
NOW, when we’re in the same space, we spend more time arguing and debating than we do laughing and loving.
And I know relationships aren’t easy and they take a lot of work, and patience, and nurturing, and communication…BLAH, BLAH, BLAH…I get that.
Perhaps its my fault for allowing myself to get so caught up in the emotional side and not even taking the time to consider it from a technical stand point.
Though we may think alike, and SOMETIMES act alike, we are wired differently. My expectations are different from his; as are my wants and desires for this relationship.
Right now I have on my protective gear.
Stifled by a magnitude of defense mechanisms based on past hurts and recent indiscretions….

500 Days of...

Currently watching 500 Days of Summer…OUCH!!


Craving:
1.burger and fries…
2. Crunch cake
3. SEX
4. LOVE

Penis
Penis
Penis
Penis
Penis
Penis...

Ha!

I love this movie.

What an emotional rollercoaster…

Ok so I’m retracting my last statement about loving this movie!
This shit is painful as fuck to stomach.
True, nothing is life is guaranteed, but the one thing anyone should be able to count on, outside of change, and death, is LOVE!
I mean granted the world we live in is just one big clusterfuck of broken hearts, and misguided souls walking around like fucking robots, numb, and, oblivious to any real sense of emotion (outside of anger and resentment.) But love.
Love is…well LOVE!
Simple as whistling Dixie…the shits not supposed to be complicated, but somehow that’s how it ends.
How sad.

Day 32: "Jody don't love me no more!!!"

Disorientated and disillusioned.
Blindly seeking answers trying to figure out
Where this pain is coming from.
Walls cracked. Doubt seeping through.
We connect on so many levels,that now its hard to imagine a day where there’s a me with no you.
He wrote about me today
And however confused and misconstrued the physical,
The emotional is always mutual.
Souls intertwined, Creator designed in harmony.
Now we may not ALWAYS be on the same page, but we are in
The same chapter of the same book.
We are synonymous, there’s no denying that.
The culprit lies between the sheets
At night before we sleep.
The desire is there but where the fuck is the heat!?!?