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Thursday, July 11, 2013

Throwback Thursday #tbt

Today's throwback blog post is a spoken work piece born out of a breakup letter that I actually gave a guy I was seeing once.  When I ran into him a year later he was still carrying it around in his wallet.  It was originally posted in 2010 on my first blog and was the second spoken word piece I ever performed.  Please keep in mind that it was written (and performed) during a much angrier time in my life.  (and also, please excuse the profanity....)


Dear Mr. Broken Promises,

A fuck buddy (much like luck money) is not the same as when you put in work. It is often used, discarded or lost; the user then regarded as an ungrateful jerk (not you baby, let the piece do its work). It's the tears and sweat, forgive and forget that make the bond grow stronger, longer, deeper and taller and measured in ways other than August 28th until....time stands almost still – frozen by the chill that now laces your tongue. Not like when your heat would lick and suck and make me hum. Right before you were an audience of one, when your words and my hands would make me cum....and then lie in our sweat and talk about that daughter and how gorgeous she'd be. Whether she would have my ass and your face or your charm and my patience – she would have been beautiful.

But now that promises have fleeted and my number (probably deleted) is to be called no more, I'm left to wonder how I got demoted from your queen to your whore. No, that's not fair, it was never just about ass. You and me, baby, we were much more than that. We had love, we were friends, could've been best, as a matter of fact.....yes, I remember, it was you who said that. You also said you couldn't be with her if we couldn't remain friends. But my, my how quickly that song did end....and you said you were never gonna dance again. Mr. Guilty feet. Well you and George had more in common than just your names, except he really got tired of playing games, while you just got tired of getting caught cheating.

Aww baby, now why'd you have to go there? Because I've got a point as sharp as that chocolatey brown suit you used to wear. The one you changed into the night of our last kiss in the first round. And my point is (ladies and gents, stay tuned for the finale), I never asked you to swoop in to play step daddy. Not as my saviour or chef, my meal ticket or my rent. I got that. I never asked you to take me in your arms or your eyes and understand my body in ways that I cannot verbalize. I just wanted us to be friends, You wanted more, opened and held that door and said that how you had treated me had hurt you all along. And now the scars are open, scabs ripped off and I'm lying here, bleeding love. (My God, Leona Lewis would be proud!)

Maybe one day you'll look back at this letter and our history together and realize that bargaining with you and crying for you and wiping even your silent tears was never part of a show. I never threatened to burn down all that you have because you said you would go....and maybe you'll wish it didn't end. You might want to rinse and repeat the tired old feat of typing "I'm sorry" and pressing send. But let me save you from remorse (and embarrassment, of course).  Mr. Broken Promises, we will never be friends.

Ms. Never Again




  1. wow, must have felt great to get your feelings out!

  2. It did...and I'll admit that the fact that he carried around the letter for a year gave me a sick little satisfaction. I knew he got every point.