I wanted to get you that toy helicopter for your birthday, but thought it would be doing too much. So I got you Jameson instead. Alcohol is always “safe”. You surprised me by celebrating at Malibu like you were turning 10 instead of 30. I saw you laugh, and play. It made me smile. It made me happy. That was the second time I thought I could like you.

And then it was December, the week before Christmas to be exact. After passing by the same kiosk three times at the mall I bought you that helicopter. I was so excited to give it to you because I knew you’d like it. But I did’t want to give it to you because I thought you’d think I liked you. Besides, we both know you didn’t deserve it. So. I left it in the trunk of my car, neatly wrapped in silver and blue wrapping paper. I even put a bow on it. I thought about walking back and getting it, but my stubbornness got in the way.

I remember at the time, I was glad that it did. Because when I walked into your apartment, I saw a black helicopter sitting on your desk. I won’t lie. As relieved as I was, my heart sank a little.

“You actually bought a helicopter?” I asked, making it sound like a silly thing to do.

“Fuck yeah I did,” you replied as if it was a silly question to ask.

And that was the third time I thought I could like you. It was definitely the first time I realized that I cared more than I should. You know, I really wish I had told you this back then. No, I mean ALL of this. No, I mean MORE than this. Back when I only thought I could like you. That way I would’ve been over it by now, and it wouldn’t have dragged on for so long.

But most of all, I really wish I had just given you that fucking toy helicopter.

I could say, “good,” or even, “great.” Sometimes, “happy.” I won’t even lie, a little “crazy” even.

But mostly, you make me feel like … like … the prettiest leaf, on the highest branch, on the tallest tree, in the biggest forest – yes, that high.

Or rather, the shiniest diamond, the loudest star, or the sunniest day during Indian Summer – yes, that bright.

You know how it feels to be able to come home after a long, uncomfortable flight and then take a hot shower and change into your favorite pair of sweats? Yah, that’s exactly how it feels when I’m in your arms.

And you know that stage right before, right before, right before, right before you feel like you could love someone? LOL, yup that’s me too.

But only because I’d give you the last bite of my black sesame creme brule. The last sip of my vita-coco. The last balsamic sweet onion chip in the bag – yes, that unselfish.

Remember when you heard that after 10 years Sade was finally coming out with another album? I got online, saw a “Listen here” link to Soldier of Love, and held my breath and crossed my fingers while waiting for the single to load. And then – I exhaled a sigh of relief, “The bitch still got it,” whew. Well, that’s how it feels on date night after not having seen you for weeks.

And when I stick my hand in my pocket and find $5.00 I didn’t know existed? When I open a drawer at work to find a candy bar I forgot was there? When I find the perfect pair of shoes AND they have my size AND it’s on sale? My face right when I grab that money, right when I take a bite of that chocolate, right when I walk out of that store? No, that’s not how big my smile is when I see you at my front door – it’s bigger.

More exquisite than “exquisite,” more beautiful than “beautiful,” faster than any speeding bullet known to mankind, I want to scream how much you mean to me so loud absolutely NOTHING comes out – yes, it’s that powerful.

‘Cuz on a good day? It’s like a mothers love for her children, a creators passion for their art, and waking up from a dream realizing that reality is better – yes, it’s that REAL.

No teasin,
You waited long enough.
Go deep, Imma throw it at ya,
Can you catch it.
Don’t hold back, You know I like it rough.
Know I’m feelin you, huh.
Know you liking it, huh.

He hovered over her as she knelt on the edge of the bed, and proceeded to unbuckle his belt. His pants slid slightly exposing a huge bulge pressing against his boxer briefs. “And it’s not even my birthday,” she thought. She massaged his member as he brushed the hair from her face. It was so big, and her hands were so tiny. It took almost every ounce in her body to not swallow him whole right then and there. Instead, she slowly slid onto her back taking her top off along the way. As she stretched her arms over her head, and lifted her hips in the air he automatically slid off her skirt and panties while simultaneously kissing her breast and then her navel.

So why you standing over there witcha clothes on,
Baby strip down for me,
Go on take em off.
Don’t worry baby,
Imma meetcha’ half way,
Cause I know you wanna see me.

All the lights in the room were off, but the moon shone bright through floor to ceiling windows exposing the silhouette of a beautiful, naked man that was about to be inside of her. Euphoria filled her body, and she writhed in ecstasy as he gently lifted up one of her legs straight in the air and kissed her inner thigh. Rihanna blared through his iPod, and she gyrated her hips to the beat. He played with her like a doll. Effortlessly positioning her here and there, one leg up, one leg down, on her side, on her back, kissing every inch of her body until a pool formed beneath her. Every caress was more intense than the last, and just when she thought she might explode from the build up he eased himself on top of her, their bodies nearly igniting upon contact.

No heels, No shirt, No skirt,
All I’m in is just skin.
No jeans, Take em off,
Wanna feel your skin.
You a beast, oh.
You know that I like that.
(your skin)
Come here baby,
All I wanna see you in is just skin.

“I’m just used to him,” she said.

Used to being belittled. Used to fighting. Used to being manipulated. Used to feeling bad. Used to the verbal abuse. Used to a volatile relationship. Used to correlating how much someone cared by how much someone fought with her, which was often confused with fighting for her. She didn’t know anything outside of that world.

“I’m just used to him,” she said.

Used to him simply being there. Used to the routine. Used to a warm body on the other side of the bed. Used to getting less than she deserved, but just enough to keep her there. Used to the cycle. Used to feeling “just enough”.

“I’m just used to him,” she said.

Maybe. Just maybe, it’s time to get used to being treated with respect. Get used to hearing “I miss you’s,” “I love you’s,” “What can I do to make you feel better’s?” and “I appreciate you’s”. Used to communication, integrity, genuine effort, and compromise. I think it’s about time we get used to being treated like Queens, with or without the help of a King.

Sound crazy? Unfamiliar? Impossible? Weird? Unbelievable? Well, get used to it.

Let’s pretend we have no cares in the world. That the extent of our troubles lie no further than the dance floor. Let us sing from an unknown depth in our souls, and blow kisses to the sky. Let’s pretend that life is, and will always be like this; full of laughter, and joy, and people that leave imprints in our hearts.

Tonight.

Let’s pretend no one else exists in this world – but us. And even if they did, each other is all we’d see. Let’s take things for more than face value, and say things we really mean but blame on the alcohol. Like “I like you,” and “You’re mine.” You’ll hold my hand because you want to be by more than my bed side, and I’ll kiss you as if you care whether or not I mean it. 

Tonight.

Let’s pretend like it’s our last. That the actions we make, won’t affect how we feel tomorrow. Like responsibility, rules, self-destruction, anxiety, and insecurity are foreign words to us. Let’s pretend we are the beauty that other people see in us, which for some odd reason we are blinded by. Tonight, let’s set the world on fire like we don’t have to put it out in the morning.

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