lucky

Tilly crawls in to my bed
and I am nervous as I wonder if she can see you in my sheets
or smell you on my pillows

She knows you well Seb
enough to sense your worry
enough to ask ‘How are things with him and you’

I can’t help but watch Tilly
counting gummy bears and flipping though my Vogue
I can tell she is watching me
looking for unfamiliar clothing
of boys unknown
looking for clues
that may lead to this relationships’ demise

She can’t read my mind
and its thoughts of D and dirty acts
She can’t hear my brain
as it whirs creating excuses and silly conversation
She can’t see my heart
ready to explode through my chest as I wait for you to walk through the door

So i cross my legs
sit on my floor
where we have spent many a night before
I smile and say
how happy i am
how lucky i am
to have you
and how lucky you are to be with me
Your ebony skin
red lip stained
whore

December 14, 2007. C'est Moi, love, men. 1 comment.

blessed

i stir from sleep
as Seb moves beneath the sheets
and between my legs.
the perfect wake up call.

it’s been a weekend of sex.
empty gatorade bottles and condom wrappers litter my floor.
the air smells of it,
our skin tastes of salt.

get closer, get closer
lean on me now, lean on me now

I count my blessings having Him around.
1 2 3 4 … I could go on forever.

I love that I can say nothing and you know everything.
I love that you play with the tight curls of my hair.
I love that you smile when you sleep.
I love that your eyes say more that your words.
I love that you love me more than any man has.
I love that I love you more than I have loved any other man.
I hate that I do the hurtful things that I do.
But most of all I would hate if you ever found out.

We lay about my bed. Limbs tangled.
I hear him breath softly has he sleeps and my mind wanders.
I watch him smile off in his dreams.
My phone beeps
message pending

It’s D. Call me. We need to talk.

My heart sinks, and so it begins.

November 23, 2007. C'est Moi, memory, men, sex. 2 comments.

our fickle friend romance

an email addressed to me from a close friend
made me giggle a little
thought I should share it.

It’s fair to say that I know nothing of romance. I can not pretend that I am an expert as I barely understand its definition.

Romance

Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): ro·manced; ro·manc·ing

To try to influence or curry favor with especially by lavishing personal attention, gifts, or flattery
I have found it rather difficult to locate romance.  Here amongst the urban landscape the city seems to laugh at me.  Despite the life that surrounds me I can not help but feel cold as I brush up against bitter strangers and the daily grinds of day to day. But fear not darling I will not let my dreary thoughts of romance in any way shape today’s topic.

Romance: Friend or Faux?

Let’s be serious for a moment shall we.  When was the last time you were swept off your feet? How long ago was a smile and a dozen roses brought to your door? Perhaps, a singing telegram? Or a thoughtful poem? It has been a while huh? That is what I thought. Here are three ways to bring more romance to a relationship, courtesy of my MOTHER.

  1. Flash him: Yes, you read right. FLASH HIM. Make sure you remind him/her of your God given goods. You know in case he/she have forgotten. This works best in public. PUBLIC.
  2. Make a Mix Tape: Apparently I will not really appreciate love with out a mix tape. a.mix.tape. That means you won’t either, when was the last time you got a fucking love tape? Who still uses tape??
  3. Seduce with Scent: I want you to end my life.

 

Today’s helpful hints brought to you by the matron on Zoloft.
My Madres, a woman in possibly the most toxic relationship in history avec the man I call my father (and of course his current mistress).

Next week: The Orgasm. Fact or Fiction?

 

XOXO
SP.

November 3, 2007. Tags: . C'est Moi, Uncategorized. 1 comment.

night night

RL is in the next room.
As I type this.
The very next room
she is with D.
I can barely hear muffled conversation.

I press my ear against the door
once
twice.

We are at D’s place.
RL found us here
alone
together.
Thankfully not caught yet.
Or do I want to get caught.

Caught with D’s thigh between mine
pressed up against the wall
biting his lip
as I always do.

RL opens the door

“night night” she says.

With a wave she closes the door behind her.
We are safe
safe for another night.

D comes in now.

*

I am lying on my floor in superman boy shorts,
smoking a stale benson
as Seb flicks his tongue across my nipple.

“your skin is dark” he says

“dark as night?” I ask.

“dark as night.” he replies with a sharp suck and a teasing smile.

November 1, 2007. C'est Moi, dating, love, men, sex, Uncategorized. Leave a comment.

a chinatown halloween

I see Jesus,
well someone dressed as Jesus.
With a crown of thorns
and a corduroy blazer.

Two dressed as fat men,
a cat
a superhero
a freedom fighter and gold grills.

The loft space is small and cramped
and vintage hip hop eats away at the rotting molding.
Far beyond capacity I am terrified that the ground will rip beneath us.

I light cigarette after cigarette and watch the CK model become friends with the emo kid.
Watch as Courtney Love stumbles across the room biting at her red stained mouth.
halloween weekend.
an excuse to get dressed up, fucked up and take some one home.

I can’t stay.
My legs twitches as I sit restlessly on the thigh of CK model.
Cute he is, smart he is not.
I feel him hard underneath me.
I could take him home, instead I let his fingers tickle my stomach before I leave and throw kisses at my friends.

I speed walk down spadina.
wanting smiling blue pills on the tip of my tongue
wanting my tongue to find Seb’s mouth and kiss him hard
wanting to spend the rest of the night tangled in his limbs
whispering joy division
as siren songs cut down the street.

October 28, 2007. C'est Moi. 1 comment.

once again

Seb senses my distance,my worry, my weakness.
I wear guilt on my shoulder
and try to hide the pain trapped behind my eyes.
I focus on his touch instead, as his fingers roam.
Bury my head in the nape of his neck.
Taking his smell in.
he is good. he is good.
I must keep repeating it.
he is good.
he is good.

Rabba. Fresh fruit aisle.
Red leggings emerges carrying a green basket filled with milk and candy
and I watch her stunned.
She barely glances at me before I realise
RL is here with D.
Still together I see.
I try to disappear, unnoticed behind the tower of paper towels.
He spots me, steps out of the aisle to say hello and hug me
RL watches all this closely, trying to read the body language
and affection he shows me.

I sit on a bench now.
Church and Isabella
Eating strawberries that stain my lips and teeth
waiting for time to roll by
waiting for the fuzzy ache to subside.
Message Received- beeps my cell

tonight at 9. Love D.

October 15, 2007. C'est Moi, love. 2 comments.

truth be told

I find it hard to lie
or at least i used too
Yet false words tumble out of my mouth
with such convincing ease.
I shock myself sometimes
at what I find myself saying
at any given moment.
What is it I lie about?
About the man lying right next to me.

D.
D is back.
I see him for quick lunches
and illicit sex.
I lie to Seb, tell him there is no one but he for my bed.
As D dips lazily underneath the covers
between legs.

October 14, 2007. C'est Moi, dating, sex. 2 comments.

weak become heroes

yo, they could settle wars with this
if only they will
imagine the world’s leaders on pills
and imagine the morning after
wars causing disaster

I watch him bend and inhale
one line. two lines.
white powder flits and darts across the shiny black surface it rests on.
bodies twist together tightly waiting for their turn.

I’ve never really been one for cocaine.
ecstasy has always been my vice of choice.
why can’t that come back.
ecstasy.
ecstasy makes me fuck like a porn star
ecstasy make me dance like a rock star

geezers on e’s and first timers
kids on wizz darlings on charlie
all come together for this party

I am lying on his ugly tweed couch
with nothing on my a old white t shirt and red lipstick.
My idea of dirty sexy.
Seb and I have just had about three round of passionate amour, and it looks like my man can’t pull him self together just yet.
So I let the warmth of my buzzing laptop burn on my skin, keeping me warm till he wakes.

October 8, 2007. C'est Moi. 1 comment.

i never

The game is called i never.
The premise is to find out as much dirt on your friends as possible.

Standing in line watching the scensters go by, we played.
It starts off nice and easy.
Tame.

i have never made out with a stranger in a bathroom stall.

I raised my hand.
Bathroom stall and a stranger? Tame.

i have never lied to a lover.

I raised my hand again.
More hands followed, eyes wandering hesitantly as past lovers avoided lovers past.

My turn now.

i have never 69’ed on a plane.

Smiling to myself I raised my hand.
A pregnant pause as stunned faces turned towards me.

Who are you? Yoli asked
Where was it?
Who was it with?
What airline?

I bit my tongue, suddenly sorry for my little spill.
Sitting here now I can’t help but wonder if my dear friends think I am quite the slut.

September 24, 2007. C'est Moi, memory. 2 comments.

untitled

Partially cloudy.
The sun barely creeps through the bamboo blinds.
Tuesday, finally a day off.
It’s barely noon and I am already tipsy.

Seb has left work to be with me, lying across my bed.
His long muscular legs stretch and bend as he folds his arms behind his head.
A band of skin peaks between his rumpled gray shirt and dark jean.
I want to run small kisses along it.
Flick my tongue around his navel.
But my door is open.
Bodies roam about the hall.

I look away, tearing my thoughts out from my insides.
I find him watching me, as he always does.
My filthy little mind has been caught.

Still seated on my chair he makes his way to me.
His fingers play with my curls.
The sun hides and shadows fill the room.
I lift his shirt and kiss his tummy once.
twice
three times.

August 14, 2007. C'est Moi, love, men. Leave a comment.

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