In the dark, she lay. The background, his playlist is playing, while she’s waiting. She smiles with the satisfaction of his vulnerability to succumb to her power in less than 5 mins. He comes back to clean up the mess he made but with no hot towel, a simple wipe. Then their backs lay, apart. The fan is on and it is quiet. Her eyes are closed, but she can’t sleep off receiving any satisfaction. The only thing making her fall asleep is exhaustion. Not from the act of playing her role and him playing his. But from the thoughts of when the one will be in her arms, tired from the casualty of exchanging temporary energy to then only lay back to back. Back to back to the basics of the predictability of the male species. She wants to not have to use her purple nurple, that’s inside of a drawer, hidden giving herself the satisfaction she fantasizes on the daily from the one. Not forced, but genuine. Comfort to freely speak, think, and be without questionable judgment, but acceptance. She falls asleep, tired of the constant bluffin’ because to her she is always all in. Damned in the essence of being the most powerful water sign in the zodiac, soul full of unexplainable emotions to naturally care no matter the water damage. So she lay, eyes closed and tried falling asleep in a stranger’s bed. Morning comes, unlike what she did the night before, as the early Monday sun shines through her stranger’s room. Lying backs turned still, silently scrolling removing the crust from her eyes. Sleep was the intermission to part two in the morning…action. Here we go she thinks, as the raw and uncut scene begins. They ponder and make small talk. Then out of line and out of character, the stranger says ‘I’m too tired to walk you to the door.’ Tuh the audacity she thought as she says,‘Excuses are mountains that lead to nothingness,’ and as the curtain closes so did the door. She thought of all the tired women settling and just putting up with it, closed mouth, suppressed feelings. But was she not to blame as well? Impulsively following the script of her fantasy and not the script of reality. Shame. Yet with shame came a lesson, and with a lesson came the bounce back. It would be easier said than done. Impulsively she prayed, cried, laughed, and wrote, she became impulsive with herself. Glasses of wine, plates galore, purple nurple outside the drawer, and P$$y Fairy in the background, laying at peace. At peace with the unconditional love with it being just she on that lovely holiday.
Happy Valentines Day!