The Real.


Women want attention, but these little boys masquerading as men do too. One, two, three, his ego files up a few notches, with every trick that he thinks he pulls over you. Your sex was not amazing, boy you had no clue! There were moments when I felt like I was watching paint dry. Boy, let me school you. I am still in my lower single digits, the REAL slut is you. You made for good poetry, you reveled in the attention that I gave you. The last time I looked into those pretty eyes, I saw that they were filled with lies. Every thing that you put out into the world will come back to you. How can you expect glory, when it is people who you abuse? Baby, I am educated, but I saw some unrealistic good in you. You have done so much acting, that you have forgotten which part of your character is true. Were you hurt in the past, that it makes you so cocky to ignore a woman who truly cares for you? And as you read these words, you know that are true. I have no time for arguments, or actions of vindication. I will deal with the anger on my own, and soon will come salvation. See, I truly LOVE those who are in my life. I do not cause pain or strife. This is a characteristic that you will never embody, because you only see women as toys and for their bodies. I am not sad. Why would I be sad over a character that I never truly knew? The power of my flesh made you tell you the lies that you do. I am glad that I was spared. I am glad that a lesson came from you. You will not be missed. I will not long for your kiss. I will not long for lies. I long for something true. You do not want something real. The real is what I had thought I found in someone asΒ unreal asΒ you.

darling, domo

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