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A teary eyed stranger lay in my bed. Unbeknownst to me, this is
what I had become, a whining, wheezing, whimpering idiot.
Whether dressed to a “T”, like a Madonna or a Prince, or laying
naked in my bed filled to the rim with sexual desire, the stranger
came to visit. I promise you, me, myself and I that I am more
beautiful and more worthy than any goddess that you have ever
labeled. This is what I believe. And I’m baffled; because I know
the men are lining up outside my door waiting to please me, to
feel my warmth, with my soft creamy skin, long brown hair, hazel
eyes, sexy hypnotic lips, red and ready for kissing, breast taut
with hard fat nipples protruding with passion. I know they are
waiting to console my troubled heart, while kissing a path to my
sweet curvy thighs and plush middle, waiting to lay me on my
stomach and run their fingertips up and down my spine, causing a
quiver here and a tingle there. To reassure me that my tears are
not necessary, much after their semen covers my face, hands and
tongue. And I keep hearing that song, “Gloria! Gloria! If
everybody wants you? Gloria! Why isn’t anybody calling!” And I
wonder if it applies to me in some strange way, as if my
goddessness is a lie. I bite my lip and blood rushes down my
chin, flowing like the sea of men around me who demand the life
between my legs, wanting my pain for their pleasure! Taking
advantage of my sadness filling me with sex, leaving me full of a
wet nothingness! Suddenly I realize, “Love is a battlefield.”
I have had many nights of empty passion. Sex, like free samples
for the taking. Free because my heart wants more. My body
may ache for it, sex, that is, but my heart wants more. And I am
sad that love is slow, a rare and precious commodity in a world of
pretense and fortune giving gifts. “I am a diamond in the rough,
for those special eyes to see.” That’s what I keep telling myself.
My goddessness is true.
I thought about the many partners who have shared my bed. That’
s right, I said, many. I bet you’ve got a special number in mind,
don’t you! The many partners who didn’t get the golden moments
waiting in my heart, but instead the silver lined cloud of comfort to
share a moment, to simply get off.
Sincerity, honesty, love, pennies for emotions that seem to count
no more. Emotions that boil, bubble and burst into unanticipated
crying sessions, where the tears fall to no avail. Suddenly, you
realize stress during sex isn’t even being relieved because after
the tears have all dried up, your heart will still be crying. You’ll
still feel the emptiness and the lull.