love. in Musings

Love.

the simplest kind of insignificant type of love is what i can give.

it doesn’t make any sense what love i give to you. it’s small it’s insignificant.
but in my world that’s all i can give.

and babe, it’s not like we’re some insignificant in our lives.

i spend tons of money to wake up to look like shit.

i don’t know why god, or destiny or whatever fucking higher being that laughs in my face and i try to make it better, it’s like digging a hole in quicksand, why did he make me choose you?

but nonetheless i love you.
actually i love you.... like truly…

outside of my illicit drugs and medications.... it’s not as simple as a pill i can take or a white line on a mirror i can snort.

i love you alex. i don’t know why. i just hope you don’t know the extent of how much i do love you.

you didn’t do anything wrong.
you came home today. you had dinner made for you. you ate it and you were super grateful and i felt super weird having you clean the dishes and you insisted

you kissed me, watched tv with me and told me i looked ‘super handsome’ even though i was just wearing blue-jeans and a t-shirt… “Wow where’d you go today looking so handsome and gorgeous?” that’s what you said as you pulled out your contact lenses.

we made love about 4 times before i decided you had to be fresh for your 11:00 AM meeting. your answer to me getting up and showering and going to the living room was “baby, that it? no more booty?” and you pouted standing naked as i watched tv and drank my glass of wine. “yeah, alex, you gotta be fresh for 11:00 AM” and you walked over to me and wrapped your naked ass around me “you don’t want more kayshawn?” (because for some drunken reason I told you that your dick had to have a black guy name because no white guy i’ve ever known has a penis like yours) and i just replied “babe, go to sleep it’s midnight, you have to wake up in 6 hours” and you fell asleep on my lap naked. and refused to sleep without me.

i mean i have a good man. you’re a good man. i don’t work anymore and i can use your cards and money to pay for shit i want and the house needs, and you never question the bill… i mean it’s only been a month now, but even when you see a 1500$ purchase, you don’t say shit and i know you see it because i see your emails and i see your phone texts…

but that’s the life you wanted… you wanted someone like me… and you wanted to be someone like you… you wanted this weird imitation of heterosexual coupling… you wanted me to stay home knowing that i was an expensive bitch, and you wanted to just come home to me and most of our arguments were based on my inability to bend to me being emasculated.

because of this idealization you have i’m okay being at home by myself and having my friends ask me “bitch, do you work?!” and my reply is “uhhh no… too busy to work”

i dunno… i find some eerie type of resolution picking up your dry cleaning, washing your laundry and looking for shit to bleach out with my tide pen. flirting with you over text message and complaining to you about the most mundane asinine things… like ‘why isn’t costco everywhere?’ or ‘99cents stores are stupid if i pay 2.99 for something’

and you ‘LOL’ and facetime me as your busy at work and tell me ‘babe, get it on Amazon prime, fuck you worried buying shit at the dollar store’ and i argue and tell you how i need to occupy my time…and at times i find it funny when you say ‘well you should save that energy for my dick tonight and stop digging in dollar store bins’ most of the time i’m like you’re a fucking pig and an asshole..
there’s something about the way that you carry yourself so humbly and so quietly. so super ‘whatever’ nowadays that i depend on you and you knowing i’m just a quiet investor of my business… it’s like i have nothing to complain about, except how the cobbler didn’t fix your shoes right, or the dry cleaner didn’t clean your shirt enough.

yet you just hug me, kiss me, and embrace me tell me to just be quiet and love you while i fall asleep on your chest watching the simpsons or some boring debate on c-span or whatever.

i don’t know. maybe i just like drama… but i can’t find drama…

i’m happy waking up at 10 am.
picking up the stubble from the sink off your beard.
washing your laundry and picking it up from dry cleaners.
im scared being this happy.
like i have nothing else but to do laundry, keep a clean house, make you dinner, suck your dick and go to sleep in your arms and do it all over again day after day…
but it makes me happy. but maybe it shouldn’t

maybe im just fucking broken.