The ceiling is leaking.

There are cracks in the ceiling of my house.
I fear the whole thing will come down on me.
Too many years of hiding the little things and now…
the ceiling is leaking, too.

I place pots on the floor.
They catch the water as it comes.
Too many pots on the floor makes an awful racket.
Now there is not a clear path in the house.

I must plot my steps carefully now.
The bare floor is precious.
I cannot afford a spill.
There is no time to clean up the mess.

/Words/

I haven't blogged in ages. I don't even know what to say anymore. I'm almost out of words except that they are some of my favorite things. I always have them, even when I can only cry. I find the words to comfort myself or make it feel better, or to explain to other people what the problem is or isn't.

The curvature of the letters is like art to me. Sometimes I practice my penmanship over and over again just so I can see how things have changed. When I was young I could take up two lines with one letter, and there was no difference between upper and lower case. I don't like lined paper too much because it limits how free I can be with them. At my best times and my worst times, I always have words and letters and there seems to be an endless number of them.

The dictionary is huge. The font is tiny. And every year there's at least one new word added.

One of these days I'll write a piece for them. I'm not in the mood to write love poems now, but once I get my appetite back...

Things that are very odd.

Things that are very odd...

I am in love.

Yes, again.

But this time it is different.

This time it is the one thing I have been praying for since I was old enough to understand that I should have a prince charming.

This time, I don't love anyone else.

I only love him. I only want him. And he loves me back. He wants me back.

We lie in the bed at night and whisper our secrets to one another. We exchange ideas and thoughts on walks through the neighborhood. We passed an old married couple and greeted them; I'm almost certain we both were thinking "fifty years from now..."

I can be every thing that I am with him. I can be a bitch and a silly goose and a child and a woman. A lover, a fighter, a friend, a mother, a daughter...

and he loves every part of me.

When I look at him music starts playing...

you love me...especially...different...

And for me, it's amazing.

I started writing a piece last night in my head for him. May perform it tonight if I can get it together.

I can tell this is going to be a challenge.

Perhaps it is not time for me to write for him.

But I think it is.

And perhaps none of this is odd to anyone else, but to me it is.

But not the bad way.

As a matter of fact, in a new and wonderful way.

Odd and excellent and amazing and every superlative that exists.

Adult Content. I ain't line!

I'm in a bar right now. "Look Back At Me" is playing. As I'm sitting here bobbing my head, I start to listen to the lyrics (http://www.metrolyrics.com/look-back-at-me-lyrics-trina.html). Everything she's saying is like…hurting my heart. Not for it's offensive nature (if you haven't heard it, it's mega X-rated), but because I was in all those situations.

He had me begging for the dick. Saying all types of shit no lady should ever say. But when the lights went off I was no lady. I was his bitch. He called me "Black queen" but he treated me like his ho. My blindness to him was such that I started to like the way it made me feel. I did shit I never thought I would do. Probably the only thing I ever said "never" to. Other people watched. There might be a tape somewhere. But every time I did something he wanted me to without him having to choke me first (yeah it was like that), I felt a little less like myself. I was one step further into what I thought he wanted, and did not even realize that I could never really be that.

And I still can't believe I did that shit. That he would do that to me. It still hurts me that I loved him with all of my heart; some days I still do. In three years he could never say it back. But I gave and I gave and I hoped that he would start to put something back into the gaping black hole that loving him was leaving.

I guess he was leaving me with something, now that I really think about it. An understanding of things. Not things between him and me, but an understanding of the nature of things.

To be continued…
C. Noelle

The Nature of Love

I love hella easily.

It doesn't take much before I'm accidentally adding it to the end of my texts.

I have dated two men, both of whom have interesting situations.

Because of who I am and how I love, I feel like their situations are also mine. To me, it's nothing. Whatever the shit is, you and I are going through it together.

Most recently, he has a daughter. She's adorable. He could not deny her if he had God himself testifying on his behalf. She looks just like him.

A recent Tweet of mine read "How do you say 'I love you and I want to be a part of your life. Because of the nature of true love, I want to be a part of her life too.'"

Because that's what love means, and what real love does.

Ultimately, that is not what's poppin. I end up hurt because I could not restrain my willing and wanting heart.

But someone else calls, and I love him too.

And how do you say then "I still love him, but I love you too. And I want to be a part of the intimate details of the makings of you, like I did him."

I am an uncontrolled and unrestrained…

serial lover.

And I believe that that is the nature of love. Continuous giving.
C. Noelle

Stupid arguments.

We had one today.

"I'd like to see you before I leave tomorrow."

I was mad I didn't see him before I left. I meant today. He thought I meant yesterday.

I'm kinda sad because I really miss him.

Point being, you never really know what the other person heard.

We had a spat and that shit left me feeling bad. What if something happens while I'm gone?

I should say I'm sorry. I miss you. If I get into an accident and go into a coma just know that I went being in love with you.

That's what I should say.

Maybe I will.

This shit goes a good amount deeper than just me and B. It's really about B and other women.

About me feeling slightly inadequate and acting in that, but also being the type of chick that would give you her last just because.

Even when I'm mad and want to say whatever I'm thinking and get shit off my chest and maybe roll my neck a little, I've gone back into "just don't say shit" mode. At least partially.

Today, I didn't. And I snapped prematurely. Now I have to apologize, because it's driving me crazy.

But I wouldn't want to be with a man that I didn't want to apologize to. If I don't want to apologize, he's a soft ass and will take my shit. What woman wants that?

That or I've been dicked into submission.
C. Noelle

Hate.

I would just like to say that "I hate you" has become code for "I love you more than anything."

Also, pressure applied at just the right moment can make a man whimper.
C. Noelle