Just the Lonely Talking Again

”But something tells me I’m headed for heartbreak… So darling please, I’m praying that, This time it will be different. That you and I can share this dream that I visualize… Tell me are you really ready for love boy or is it just the lonely talking again. Are you really ready for love boy, Or is it this lovely talking again…” Whitney Houston

I really wish I knew what you wanted from me. I’d like this “relationship” to be crystal clear… not this multi-faceted, granulated version that distorts the images once held up to the light. I’d like the truth, whether it is hurtful or not.

I wish I knew what you were thinking. I wonder if this is all a game to you. I wonder if you find it amusing to diffuse images of an “us” through my susceptible brain. My thoughts rage endlessly; like a bull who sees red I’m ready to attack, to pounce, to spur forward. During the day I consciously shut you out, refusing to let myself dwell in a house without windows.  “And when the night falls, the loneliness calls” Oh retched night, how you torment me! How I fall prey to the wonders of your darkness and the answering siren to my lonely heart. In my dreams, I’ve created a fantasy that you visit every night.

I wish I wasn’t such a fool. Yet here I am an ardent enthusiast who can’t resist the urge to lay down my gauntlet… you greedy little bastard… how you want all of me and deny my access at the same time. You tell me what you want me to hear, and I listen each time… willing, wanting, waiting…why?

Can’t I be self-satisfied?

Can I disprove the single black woman statistic?

Can I walk away?

I think in my heart of hearts, I would never move forward… but the sickening fact is that I’ll never back away either. Here I stand complacent, content in your paltry attention. Beck and call… Beck and call.

I answer. Come to attention. I’m ready.

Internally I’m screaming, pleading, demanding a full about-face. Ida, please don’t give up on yourself. You’ve come so far. Walk away!

I wish you would have extended an invitation. I wish you would say something encouraging. I wish you wanted me for the fairy tale instead of the booty call. I wish you considered me a possibility.

Even more… I wish I didn’t care. I wish I could accept things at face value, not searching for the hidden clasp revealing magnanimous treasure. I wish I could switch the channel of my thoughts when your butter cream words scroll across the screen.

In your moments of weakness, why do you turn to me? What is this girlfriend number two, and still I’m here in the background? Why do I continue to extend my shoulder for your pitiful stories? Why do I feel pain for you, when I have enough of my own?

Are we friends? This doesn’t feel like friendship. I’m standing at the water’s edge, sand beneath my feet as the wave retreats. Retreats, retreats, retreats… and gathers force. Soon the tsunami will come, and yet I continue to feel the pebbles beneath my toes, sinking into the soft surface. I refuse to look up even as the enormous wave lays shadows on the beach.  Will I let it crush me? OR will I run from its looming presence.

I guess it all depends on whether this is near love, or just his loneliness talking again.

*UPDATE* Came, saw, conquered… and never mentioned a thing. Guess I got my answer.


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