Tag Archives: love

on wet pavement

his eyes were the first to betray the calm demeanor he was trying to convince her he possessed.

his eyes.

seemed like the devil himself had slithered beneath the rain-soaked cement, slipped into the soles of his 500 dollar Prada shoes, inhabited his body, and now rested, quietly demented in his eyes.

those eyes told her feet to move. she couldn’t though. she didn’t.

she was frozen. stood still as if a statue had been erected and taken her place, the only sign of life the heavy tears forcing their way forward. for a split second she saw them like they used to be, smiles abounding, love filling their every pore.

was it possible for a six week relationship to have a ‘used to be’?

for some, six weeks might have seemed far too short a time to have met, fell in love, become engaged and purchased a home, but for them it was as natural as the wind gently blowing through the trees.

he was perfect. any swoon-worthy quality a woman could dream up, he possessed. tall, handsome, sensitive, strong, attentive, very gainfully employed as a highly regarded FBI agent. and the sex. at the mere thought of their passionate bedroom acts, her brain would cue up that “Best I Ever Had” song by that Degrassi kid. although she wasn’t sure if this was a testament to her fiance, or the fact that the song had been over-saturating every radio wave for the last month.

her friends had warned her of the possibles. maybe he was unstable. maybe he was already married. suggested she take her time, not accept a key to his home after seven days of knowing him. all pretending to be happy for her, and yet all secretly thinking that this just couldn’t be real. they dubbed him Mr. Too Good To Be True.


his mouth was moving, angrily. she tried to hear him above the ire ringing in her ears, but only caught key words. bitch. hoe. triflin.

she heard those loudly. clearly. saw the spittle droplets fling forcefully from his bottom lip and become obscure on the wet ground. she looked down at her left hand. the diamond engagement ring shone against the lone streetlight, proving it was worthy of its $15,000 price tag.

her mouth curved into a nostalgic smile, as the day returned to her when he’d choked out the words “i want to marry you.” he was so nervous that day. so full of love for her. so genuinely happy when she’d kissed his mouth and said yes. her smile curved a little more.

she looked back up at him, those eyes still telling her he was at the brink.

her own were cloudy. could barely see through the tears. she didn’t bother looking down at her hand again, just kept her stare on his dilated pupils. those dark irises, glaring at her, daring her to make any sudden move.

she looked down at the spot on his waist where she knew his gun resided. the gun he had a legal right to carry wherever he went. the gun he wasn’t supposed to have on him while intoxicated. she knew every nut, bolt and curve as if it were her own.

she thought about earlier that evening, when she’d suggested he leave his ‘baby’ at home. this was a celebratory night. he would be drunk before eleven. he’d laughed at her. he never went anywhere without it.

she smiled again.

“fuck you. and fuck this ring.”

in one swift motion, she slipped the ring off and threw it with all her might, into the darkness of the parking lot. fuck him. the alcohol polluting her blood stream told her she meant it with everything inside her.

something snapped. broke loose. those eyes raged, turned dark.

the first blow found her face on the ground, the dirty pavement kissing up at her aggressively. she turned over, saw that familiar steel. saw those raging eyes. tried to close her’s and envision a nice summer’s day. didn’t want those aphotic irises to be the last thing she saw.

she was too late.

if i had never Loved you.

if i had never Loved you.

this thought sails on the usually whimsical winds of my mind ever so often. my memory is a picky and selfish woman, keeping what she needs and having no regard for that which cannot benefit her.

she keeps this thought. this idea of if i had never Loved you.

there is good. there is great. and then there is a connection that digs so deeply inside you that imagining it severed would be imagining yourself less a limb. less a heart ventricle. less a brain lobe. simply picturing yourself minus this person is almost unfathomable. you have no idea how you survived the calendar before their daily presence. you have no memory of life before them. you want no future memory absent of them.

if i had never Loved you, stays with you.

even when the unthinkable occurs and you find yourself in circumstances that leave you less a limb, a ventricle, a frontal lobe. you feel as though your heart might just simply burst out of your chest and spill its contents onto the floor, someone’s laugh and smile and tears and words soiling your newly polished hardwood. you find your heart was pumping them, alone. the very essence of them sustained you daily. even then, you try to sweep up their shattered contents of your heart and piece them together in your memory, so that you might survive another day.

if i had never Loved you now becomes a mantra of all the pain you’d have avoided.

and then one day you wake up feeling … alright. you notice your limb growing back. you realize you survived.

my fickle mind discards any pain. disposes of any anger that might have collected in the rumination piles.

months pass, and it’s refreshing not to have someone consume eighty percent of your brilliant brain space. you feel creative. you feel free. you realize just how much of your life was spent absorbing the sum of someone else and converting it to negative energy.

if i had never Loved you remains the sole thought. the sole piece of the discarded puzzle. if i had never Loved you remains a sticky note on the frontal lobe that has reemerged.

but far from a thorn, it becomes a fresh drop of dew on the rose that grew out of the hardened concrete that was my heart.

If i had never Loved you. this thought reminds one that if you hadn’t gotten through, if you hadn’t noticed the book cover, opened it, ripped all the pages out and wrote something more beautiful, i might have never contemplated it possible.

if i had never Loved you forces me to accept the fact that i wouldn’t know what it is like to have someone Love me almost as i Love myself. to have someone share deepest fears, pains, regrets, joys, highs, and unbelievables, and mirror that emotion with such exactness, any ignorant soul would have sworn it happened to you.

some people are in your life for a brief season. some people are in your life forever. and some are in your life for as long as it takes for you to discover what you’re capable of. to show you how far your heart can stretch before it becomes something altogether new.

if i had never Loved you now reminds me that i’d never know it was possible to let another human inhabit your soul, your mind, your spirit, yourself, in every way.

because i Loved you, lends the comforting knowledge that i can Love the next with less fear. with more courage. with a deeper understanding. a stronger connection. with more acceptance. more trust. more vulnerability. delicately and fiercely in the same breath. with an open heart. with all of me.

if i had never Loved you, guarantees that i will be able to Love my next Him consummately. that i will be able to accept a consummate emotional involvement.

because i now know that there is no other way to Love.

mindspill fiction: His Hands

his hands reached out.

she avoided them like they held all the evils in the world and longed to deposit them into her pores. the same hands that had held her hand as she pushed in pain three years ago and bore their son. the hands that nervously held hers and slid the platinum and diamond ring on, while glistening eyes looked into hers and told the perfect mouth below to say i do, four years ago.

those hands had betrayed her. learned the texture of a new woman and then returned to her as if their prints hadn’t been soiled. as if she wouldn’t notice the stench of deceit. she snatched her arm from their reach when they extended again.

they dropped to his side in defeat. regret and sorrow radiating even from the fingertips.

she loved those hands. still.

long, strong, and brown they were. the very definition of masculinity in her eyes. the type that made men add a little more firmness to their handshake, and women wonder if the long standing believed correlation existed between them and what rested just behind his zipper. amazing the power ten fingers could hold in the swirled little lines that made him individual.

she loved those hands.

she’d miss them most of all. they’d been smoothing her hair, rubbing her feet, gripping her waist, smacking her ass, holding her hand, even restraining her anger a time or two; …making her feel like a woman, for the last five years.

she couldn’t imagine not waking up to them stroking her face.

… she couldn’t imagine them touching her face ever again.

“give me your hands.” he pleaded, the emotion in his voice making each word heavier than the previous. once again the two sources of her pleasure on many a night, reached towards her.

she weakened. felt her knees and her will buckle in one breath. placed her shaking but otherwise plain and unimpressive hands into his glorious two. uninvited tears sprang to the lashes stubbornly shielding her from looking at him.

he squeezed tight, his hot hands engulfing her own. started using words like love. soulmates. only one. sorry. sorry. sorry.

she stared at him while he begged her forgiveness. felt his sincerity.

still her eyes traveled down to their hands again.

she once told someone that she knew they were made for each other by the way her hands fit into his, and later, how perfectly his grip fit on each of her thighs when she was atop him during passionate moments, winding him to ecstasy.

those hands felt like they were molding her anew during those times. he’d learned every brown inch of her, curve by curve, fingertip by fingertip.

and now, they knew someone else’s. some other woman had experienced her magic, from the very same hands that rubbed the top of their son’s head so lovingly each night as they laid and read colorful books to each other.

she looked at his hands. imagined them traveling that home wrecking bitch’s landscape.

she noticed tears falling into his upturned palms. couldn’t tell if they were hers or his.

the magic was gone. she couldn’t. she didn’t. she wouldn’t, forget. and forgiveness was miles away, if it ever peaked over the horizon.

she knew the loss she’d feel. but she sighed, and released them.


wrote this a while ago. but i still like it. lol.

Sliding Doors, Pt I

hello all.

i wrote what was intended to be just a short story a lonnng while ago, and upon requests, added 4 more parts. i’ve recently added more, so i figured i’d post this series for your entertainment. i’ve grown to like Nigel and Jade. oldie but goodie to some of my OG readers (until i post the new segments, which i have written. yay), new to most. let me know what you think (good or bad). actually thinking of expanding this into novel length. thanks for reading. love and light!


His heavy locs swayed against his back with each footstep, like he had his own personal wind machine following his every move. The well tailored black-on-black tux he wore accentuated his broad shoulders well and could not hide the rippled body that Jade knew rested beneath.

Or maybe it was just her imagination.

“You look, beautiful. I meant to tell you earlier, but you were … busy.” he said, that familiar sexy voice reminding her why their phone conversations always lasted longer than they were supposed to.

He stood facing her, fighting every instinct in his body to pull her in his strong embrace and kiss her until her soul blushed. He wished the doors that separated the decadent ballroom from the large balcony they now stood on were not glass. He wished no one existed right now but she and him. Then he’d be happy.

He was close now. So close she could smell the jasmine oil that he’d used on his hair earlier mingling with the strong, sexy scent of the Acqua Di Gio rising from his skin. She could almost hear his heart beating. She was sure he could hear hers, thumping in the double time rhythm he always seemed to incite.

She looked into his dark eyes. She’d never seen eyes that were completely black. Piercing. Nigel could have a whole conversation with his eyes. Right now they were telling her everything that she already knew was in his heart.

“Thank you.” was all she could manage nearly two minutes after his original compliment.

She peaked around him, looked through those doors, saw people of all races there, fake smiles celebrating with expensive champagne and boring conversation. The only thing she was enjoying about this night were the moments alone with Nigel. This moment.

Out in this night air, the ambiance was perfect. Nigel looking like the African god he was, the music from the live jazz band playing inside fighting it’s way through the glass doors, and soft, romantic lights lining the entire balcony.

“Why don’t we just skip out on this. We don’t need to be here. I need you. Been thinking about that beautiful body of yours since you walked in in this dress tonight.” The lust in his tone was unmistakable. The love in his eyes was, too.

“They are honoring your brother, Nigel. We can’t just leave. He worked hard for this, we should be supportive. We have to be.” she said, trying to convince him and herself at the same time.

“I think I’ve done a damn good job at being supportive, Jade. I won this campaign for him, after all. All things considered, I’d say I’ve been more than supportive.” A flash of anger seared in his eyes as this passed his lips.

He had been supportive. He’d done all the dirty work that Nathaniel had refused to do, for merely twenty percent of the cost of what a real campaign manager would have cost his brother.

But that’s what brothers did, right? They were supportive. Still, she grabbed his hand, kissed his cheek gently.

“I know love, and soon you won’t have to worry about meetings, arrangements, conferences, speeches, nothing. After tonight, you can relax a bit.”

A touch from her lips always softened him. She was able to prod a slight smile out. Not enough to convince the dimple in his left cheek to show itself, but enough to let her know that it had helped.

He looked down at the swell beneath her silky, black, designer dress. At three and a half months, she was beginning to show.

“How is my little king doing? You feel alright? He giving you trouble?” He asked, letting a deep breath escape.

He placed a large, manicured hand on her belly, gently rubbing in slow circles. He didn’t care if anyone saw their closeness. She was his woman. Didn’t care about the uppity crowd inside that would frown upon this moment.

She smiled. “You don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, Nigel. I think it’s a girl. And she’s doing just fine. I think I’m almost over this morning sickness, God help me.”

She knew the exact day and moment that their little gift had been conceived. She tried to stop the slight shudder that ran through her body when the memory of that steamy night, of Nigel’s mouth softly singing to every part of her mocha flesh played in her mind, but she couldn’t.

Nigel inhaled. The scent of Jade’s perfume and the glow of pregnancy that almost illuminated her angelic face made his attempts to stay decent in public almost impossible. His insides quaked for this woman. He shook his head, amazed at the power this one woman had over his heart, body, and soul. He needed her like he needed air.

“We should leave, Jade. Please. Only for a moment. I don’t care about this party. Don’t care about Nathaniel right now. I need you tonight, right now. We have to get out of here.” His low, husky voice was almost pleading now.

Jade stood up straight. Took a step toward the glass doors separating their two realities.

“We can’t just leave. Nathaniel needs us. You know that.”

Just as his lips parted to counter her statement, he heard the heavy doors slide open, jovial jazz music escaped and wafted into the starry abyss. Nathaniel’s cheery voice followed.

“There you are, my love. I’ve been looking all over for you. Why aren’t you inside enjoying the party?” He was happy, nearly tipsy, riding high on his win in the mayoral election tonight.

Nigel smiled. Began speaking before Jade started stuttering. “Hey, brother. I had to steal your wife for a moment. Brought her outside. She looked like she needed some fresh air. Just making sure the little one in the oven is alright. But, she’s fine. I guess you can have her back now.”

He walked towards his brother, grazing Jade ever so gently as he passed. He gave his twin brother a strong hug. Looked into a face that mirrored his own. If it weren’t for Nathaniel’s hazel eyes and short hair-cut, no one would be able to tell them apart. He felt the jealousy coursing through his body like a fast-spreading disease. He had to get out of this place.

“I’m gonna get out of here, man. Still have a lot of work to do. This is only the beginning, my brother. Make sure you get some rest tonight.”

“Sure thing, man. And, thanks for everything, Nigel. I owe you one … or seven hundred.” Nathaniel said jokingly.

“Yeah, that’s about right. But don’t worry, I’ll cash in on that soon enough. You all have a good night. Take care, Jade.” Nigel said with a nod, and disappeared into the ballroom, where a party was still going on.

Jade watched his locs sway away, in total disbelief that her life had come to this. Her heart was beating so loudly, she could barely hear Nathaniel speaking to her.

“Baby, you okay? How do you feel?” He asked, placing a large, manicured hand on her belly and kissing her lightly on the cheek.

She looked down at her stomach. If she didn’t look up into his concerned hazel eyes, if the fourth finger wasn’t the home of a platinum wedding band, this could be Nigel’s hand.

“I’m fine, babe. Let’s go inside.”

**the rest of this series can be found at the top of the blog next to “about.” ..thanks for reading! 🙂