Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Poet sat there for a while, folded inside herself like a letter in an envelope. No sounds but her own breathing and the muted noise of a honking car from the parking lot, way in the distance.
Secrets. I don’t want to keep this secret anymore. I want to scream it! It wasn’t my fault! Just like Aunt Huni said. Aren’t I just protecting the person who did this by not tellin’ the truth all of these years? But by tellin’ the truth, I have to talk about what I did, too… I can’t do that… it’s too horrible. It seems I could forgive myself, and most days, I can, but sometimes I can’t. After all of these years, it still makes me squirm.
She’d come so close to telling her secret to a few of her good friends over the years.
Besides, she was never one to keep deep dark secrets from those she loved and cared about. Life happened. People make mistakes. People grow. She was fairly honest and expressive with folks she believed she could trust, but this one thing… this one, awful thing she simply couldn’t talk about. She’d tested the waters with her ex-fiancé years ago, and it had become clear that he wouldn’t be a good candidate to lay her burdens down, to be so vulnerable with. Once the words were spoken, the confessions made, they could never be unsaid. She’d dated plenty of men, and never considered the majority of them for such a thing, including the ones she’d gotten serious with. Getting to her feet, she looked in a mirror that hung on the wall, and fixed her makeup. When she was satisfied, she walked out of her office, pushing the ugly past behind her.
For now.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dinner and an Uzi
Have you ever met somebody, and they captivated you from the moment you laid eyes on ’em? They didn’t look like everyone else. They didn’t stand or move like everyone else, either. In fact, everything about that person caught your eye and wouldn’t let go. Even the gristle and gnarled bits you didn’t like about that individual, you found that shit interesting, too. Somethin’ to chew on. Worth a look or two.
Poet is the type of person you’d find smiling more times than not. She has a strange, yet beautiful, smile, like a dark crescent moon. A crooked smirk with a straight arrow to your heart. It isn’t that the smile is fake, but she smiles when she isn’t happy, too. That is the thing about her that makes me want to fall in love.
See, this is how I figure it. Smiling makes her more comfortable, I imagine. Like a wall to hide what’s going on in that complicated head and heart of hers. I imagine the inside of her brain looks like the wall of numbers and symbols in those Matrix movies. I bet it has a hell of a theme song, too. She ain’t easy, but she ain’t hard either, unless you make it so. She ain’t shy, but pretends to be when it suits her. Something dark, deep and purple lives inside of her. See, purple, accordin’ to my mama, is the Lord’s favorite color. This woman has danced with the devil, but she walks with God. She’s a puzzle with a solution—you just gotta look close enough. It don’t bother me none. I don’t like easy women. They don’t turn me on for more than a night. I don’t commit easy, either. Not ’cause I’m afraid to, but because I know what I want and what I need. I love hard. I don’t take any shit, and I protect what’s mine. I’m visual, but I’m cerebral, too.
When I’m into a woman, I mean, really, truly into her, her face and body may have gotten my attention, but this won’t hold me. Her mind and personality will. Can she hold a damn conversation? Does she care about other folks besides herself? Does she have her own goals, ideas and wishes? I like a challenge. I’m possessive, and at times prone to jealousy. That’s nothin’ to brag about, but I’m just being honest. The point is, make me chase you a little. Don’t drag the shit out too long, but take your time. Show interest in me, but don’t give me all of you too fast. Make me earn it. I want to hunt you down. I want to track you in the woods, and corner you. I want you to enjoy me chasin’ you as much as I enjoy doing the chasin’. Poet is who I want. I found her in my neck of the woods. I chased her. I cornered her. I claimed her.
I’m fallin’ for this lady. I’ve got no gripes or concerns about that. She checks all of my boxes, and then some. The lady can shoot a gun. She’s comfortable in the outdoors. She’s not squeamish. She’s fucking beautiful: skin the color of roasted pecans, and her cheeks warm to a deep cinnamon when she blushes. Soft black hair. Pretty, expressive eyes. Juicy lips, shaped like a walkin’ dream. Nice titties and ass. Personality? On point. She’s initially a little reserved, but warms up fast. She’s brave. She’s funny and sarcastic. Smart as can be. She’s always watching. Payin’ attention. She had a strange upbringing, in a beautiful sort of way. Kind of like myself. Our daddies are dead, and we never knew them. In fact, both of our families are unique.