I hate the way you do that thing you do that makes me look at you and realize how much I love you and how open I am and how vulnerable I am, that you made me that way, and then I hate you a little more. And then I think about how I've never been that way because I've never loved someone the way I love you in that very moment and I go back to hating you because you made me that way.. You know what they say, I love you more today than I did yesterday, and less than I will tomorrow, but my question is what is the unit of measure?
Because if love is measured in words, today I could write a book. Tomorrow I could fill a library and in a week I could educate nations for generations because my love for you is timeless.
If love is measured in the cohesive bond of two molecules of hydrogen and a molecule of oxygen, today you could collect all the tears that I cry in a night because my heart is almost breaking because I miss you. Tomorrow, you could collect all the tears that I cry in a lifetime, along with the raindrops that I danced in when I was a little girl because of the blissful joy I feel when I'm around you. In a week, you would need the ocean to hold all the rain that has fallen on this world and has flowed from the highest mountain tops like the way your hands hold me and run from my shoulders to my lower back.
If love is measured in money... It doesn't matter because my love for you is priceless. But let's just say poverty would be eradicated and prices would be deflated so that a mother could cook a Thanksgiving dinner every night for her family.
If my love for you was measured in kisses, that would be ridiculous. Because today I'd have enough love to kiss you for the rest of the night, and tomorrow with the sun rise, I'll have enough love to kiss you for the rest of your life. In a month, there would be enough for everyone to kiss a stranger, their brother, their daughter, their mother three times over.
I love you exponentially and eventually becomes immeasurable and I'll have no way to measure my love as perfectly as it takes to measure milk and eggs to make a cake and bake it for your birthday. But I can't bake, I can't even follow the directions on a box. So in the meantime, I'll just count the stars in the sky and name each one as a reason why I love you until I lose count or fall asleep. The next night I can start all over again, count each star out to the moon, make a right at Pluto and come back again.

And even after I count every single one, I still have galaxies and light years to measure how much I love you.

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Sunday, March 25, 2012 Posted in | , , | 2 Comments »

So all those times you was getting hype about Chris and Rihanna getting back together you were hoping it was you and her... I don't know whether you was thinking about the girl before her or her herself but I knew it wasn't me. The fuck I look like trying to be that pitiful girl who let him crush me and then get me back? That's why you there. That's why I let you in.... because you hadn't hurt me before I turned my back on you but you giving me the other cheek while you giving her the cool side of the pillow. The fuck I look like sittin here while you giving subliminals on Facebook to the world what you can't even tell me to my face. But like you said you just pleasing the world for the sake of their feelings when its only for the sake of my skin that you satisfy me.... why don't you get your mind straight then you wouldn't have to deal with curving bitches because you wouldn't have the time of day, forget about during the night.... if course none of them other girls would tell you that because they too caught up in the petty and care too much about being set for life.... not even willing to fight for their own. I'm fighting just to protect my heart..i cant think about fighting for yours. If it was mine to begin with you'd end up in my arms every night instead of a blunt and a light or some other girl falling asleep on your bed when you ain't even have the balls to tell her to get out... the fuck I look like on some Bruno mars shit catchin a grenade for your ass... fuck that. And lose my hand? No thank you. I'm already in the trenches of predicates fighting bullets and bombshells of bad grammar and  syntax.

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Friday, March 23, 2012 Posted in | , , | 0 Comments »