"it's the middle of the night and i'm laying under the sheets staring at the ceiling. my mind full of thoughts i pray i could let myself stop thinking; literally; which is saying something because i don't pray for anything. ever. but god's not listening to my cries; either he doesn't hear me or he doesn't see the tears that i shed over her. maybe it's been so long since the last time we talked that he doesn't recognize my voice anymore. or maybe he just doesn't care and i really am on my own in this life. i mean i say that all the time but what if it's truer than i actually believe it to be. what if i am alone and everything that can or will come to me is of my own making? what if there is no higher power? what if i am my own master; controller of my own destiny? i believe i am but my own sage? i hope not, i hope i'm not supposed to be totally dependent on myself for every answer i need for my existence because i don't really know anything. so i choose to pray. genuflecting; "our father which art in heaven...while my black ass suffers heartache down here on earth...hallowed be thy name...forgive a nigga for being lame...forgive a nigga for claiming something that he doesn't even fully understand". but maybe i shouldn't start my prayers like that. maybe that's a little too blasphemous; it does seem a tad condescending for a mere mortal, even to the person saying the words.
like i said before i'm wide awake but it isn't a surprise, it happens every time i try to spend the night with her. i lie there next to here while she sleeps, totally drained from the fucking i'd just given her; so exhausted she didn't even wipe away my seed as it ran out of her and down her leg. she simply kissed me one last time, told me she loved me and got her naked ass under the sheets. then she was gone to the world. and now that i'm thinking about that image, a slight smile crosses my lips; there's a sense of satisfaction in knowing that i put her to bed, both literally and figuratively. and more satisfaction in knowing she's dreaming about it now; as she stirs in her sleep she's making intelligible noises that sound like my name; her hands under the sheets moving along her body following the same path i'd traveled not long before. my presence is ingrained in her mind; she feels my fingers touching her even when i'm not there; she hears my voice whispering into her ears when i'm can't be near her. i'm as much a part of her as anything she's ever known has been and that's still not enough for us.
i can't stare into the black anymore tonight; i gotta get out of here. i pull the sheets off of myself and slide my legs over the side of the bed with as little movement as possible, as to not disturb her slumber. but the floor is cold, my feet instantly frozen; and i almost curse out loud but i catch myself and choose to mouth profanities at the darkness instead. i don't want to wake my sleeping goddess, even though she's drooling on her pillow right now. i search for my clothes; they're scattered all across the floor. we had started discarding them the instant we entered the room during our moment of passion and now they are in crumpled heaps on the floor. first, i find my underwear; and then my jeans. i look back at her seemingly lifeless body while pulling my "silvertab's" up and she's stretched out on her stomach, her ass slightly elevated and i begin to flashback to a previous time i'd had her in that position. and i want to touch her but i know better; all touching her would do is start another round of lovemaking; and while it would be heavenly, it wouldn't make it any easier to leave her when we were done. because i can't stay. i never can, even though all i want to be able to sleep beside her; to have her be the first thing i see when i wake up in the morning; to lay face-to-face in the bed, have her look into my eyes and tell me she loves me; to have her know that i love her and that she believes what i'm telling her with her whole heart.
and i do love her. despite feeling i need to make hasty departures during the middle of the night, i really do love her. and she knows it too, ask her. she'll tell you that from 9 p.m. to 3 a.m. nobody loves anybody any harder than we love each other. in fact, nobody has ever loved anybody else harder than we have. ever. i leave because i don't know how to love her the rest of the hours of the day. i pray because i can't figure out why it's so difficult for us to love each other during the daytime. i cry because loving each other shouldn't be as hard as it seems to be for us, especially when after the sun's gone down we profess to share the same strong feelings for one another.
grabbing my shirt after lacing up my "j's", i glance back at her and she's flipped onto her back. her nipples press against the thin sheet she lies under; the imprint of them visible from across the room and by the moonlight coming in through the window. another slight smile from my lips; i know she's still dreaming about me. perhaps a fantastical dream about us loving each other in the daytime as much as we love each other in the night."
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