Blue Moon

Last night I was lonely. For the first time, in a long time. To the point where I mapped out messages in my head, to send like,

Heyyy, Big Head 😘

I even went as far as, typing out a text like,

Heyyyy! 👋🏾

No wait, too extra …backspace-backspace.


Now, it seems desperate…delete the whole thing. Check the name…Switch. New name.


Check the time…Damn, it’s late on a Saturday night. He’s probably already in someone’s bed.


Fuck it, let me go to bed. Backspace…Backspace…Backspace.

Good space, my space with myself. I’ve been alone for years, but never really lonely. Because at the mere thought of negative energy in my positive space, turns me off. Far worst than me being turned on, with nothing but BOB to turn on, to escape the thought of a crowded bed. An empty bed, even when it’s shared with someone else. Because the substance is more important than the physical form. And much better than the annoyance in the morning. Your job was to feel a temporary void, don’t fall in love…we’re not doing this again. Don’t text me asking about my day, when you don’t care ‘cuz you’ll get a cliché answer anyway. Then you’ll try to sliiidddde back through & I’ll make excuses of why that can’t be until you’re so tired of asking me and then you don’t. I’ll notice, but I won’t care because my aloneness feels so good, and lonely only greets me once in a blue moon. You’re the cow that jumped over the moon, only to land in the barn you can’t get out off.

Curve game strong!

I don’t mind being alone, it’s the only time I get to be myself. I can lay here naked, in the dark. No one here to ask me, “why I’m so quiet.” No one to tell me to “stop singing” when my favorite song comes on. And no one to leave without warning, after I get comfortable with them being here, all the time. I hear it’s not healthy to be by yourself, but in my opinion, far more settling than settling. Settling for a warm bed, pinned down under a warm body. “Why are you so cold?” He asks. I shrug my shoulders and smile only to stop the response, “Because you’re not the one who sets me on fire. I regretted your company as soon as I got the “Here” text, but it was too late to back down. I was all out of excuses & Netflix kept asking “are you still watching?” That’s embarrassing enough. You’re happy to be here, I can feel you growing and I’m just pretending. I’m doing a damn good job arent I? Maybe I should’ve been an actress, my dramatics over the top. I even slip out a “don’t stop!” Even though I wish you would.” Damn, another blue moon.

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