Updated: Apr 17, 2020
Telling my truth to cure the lies.
This is for the ambiguous ones.
The ones who enjoy the unclear lines between romantic and platonic.
I’ve been there too often and could never tell whether I'd met a type of intimacy I hadn’t experienced or a regulass energy vamp.
I desired friendship.
Building those "ships" with the opposite sex is necessary. An undeniable balance no matter how we identify. It's the diverse close circle that helps us understand ourselves. It provides objectivity and gives insight from the other side because we need insight from the other side. I've come to accept having a confidant outside our partner is normal. Relationships shouldn't always be one-note and while many of desire for our partner to be all-in-one, it's important they aren't pressured to feel like they should.
But...when those ships we thought were clear, begin to hit muddy waters, how do we broach the conversation? When friendly intimacy emerges into hidden passions, is it ever safe to address the heat in the room? Cause I'm all for heauxing responsibility, just not at the expense of clarity.
So are we lovers, friends, or both?
Asked that question to a few and never got a straight answer. Opted to self-sabotage and hide our connection from the world stage. Downplay me as if I were some pastime pussy. Call me an ace boon coon. Couldn't give two shits about being someone's "ace" but it was definitely some coon shit.
Reckon those negroes gave a flip about nothing else but a few orgasmic trips with my clit but I must admit, like a dumbass, I gave it to ’em. Figured I could swim in the muddy abyss because it meant I didn’t have to address the feelings I caught. Chose to burry them in the ocean's surface and find solace in the grey. That lasted as long as I denied the feelings were Black and white, left and not right. No obscene "in between." And when remembered my bearings, I tried to stand twenty feet tall, I’d fall back.
The confusion too much to bear, I’d ask again.
Are we lovers, friends, or both?
Most replied, “friends who fuck” and while that sounded good, I knew deep down I wanted more. Said to myself, if they knew, they’d leave. In reflections, I ask what was I afraid to lose... a lil bit o’ peen? Sis, that shit is everywhere. Yes! Good quality dick is EVERYWHERE.
So really, what was it?
What burden was I trying to bear?
What qualities in me, did I try to fix in them?
What was the idea I had in my head?
Did I believe I could change them?
Tricks are for kids.
But the games I let these negroes run had me question if they were ever worthy of friend or lover cause we weren't either. I was merely the well they drank from. Left myself unguarded with no boundaries, no security, no stability. We weren’t really lovers or friends. I was the well, and they drank me dry cause I was open with no boundaries in sight. Though I imagine a time when a lover and friend are made equal, the emotional hardship I endured was solely stemmed from my choice of men, rooted in how I chose to view myself.
Was I my lover, friend, or both?
Couldn’t from tell the way I let negroes pass through me.
Toyed with my emotional, mental, spiritual, and physical sanctity.
Became the mother hen they desired to prove I could be what they need, prove I wasn't like the rest. Spent so much time dodging the healing I so desperately needed, I let wanting to please the ships I desired to sail drown me into an emotional grave. Died a plethora of times because I didn’t know how to be for me what I craved for the men I fancied.
Didn't know how to let them be it, either.
To myself, I was neither lover nor friend.
When I accepted I allowed myself to be treated like shit and doubled down in my lack of self-care, that’s when my work began. And while I'm still mastering to decipher who’s what, I know what it’s not 'cause for a while, I specialized in the “what not...” So when the next man comes, I won't let him pretend or enable the unclear. I'll ensure he holds my heart dear and I speak my feelings of truth without fear.
Until next time...
Your resident Scorpio Moon.