la [lah]: n. plushly poetic author, vocalist, model, artist, daughter, sister, lover, friend (and otha dope stuff like that...)

Thursday, April 14, 2011

umm, is that what u heard? cause that's not what i said...

let me start off by saying this is not the rant of a bitter woman lol. i am not bitter. i am confused.

*insert puzzled face*

i just got off the phone with a girlfriend, whom i called because i wasn't sure how to respond to a picture mail i had just received from a former (short-lived) beau. i didn't want to be mean, and since i knew i was already predisposed lol, i thought i would call for a fresh opinion. the message had no words, just a button-up-vest-and-tie-in-the-front-seat-of-his-car-complete-with-shades picture, sans a smile. albeit a nice (somewhat-posed) shot, my question was what was i supposed to do with it and how was i to reply? it was unsolicited and we hadn't spoken in quite a while. we ended, not on the friendliest of notes, and while we've conversed (uneasy small talk) here and there, i'd made it quite clear that i had no interests in rekindling anything. at least i thought i had. and even when i was (notice the italics) open to the thought, when asked what he could do to make it better, among the items discussed was no mention of a text-messaged picture of him in his sunday best...with no words.  

Monday, April 4, 2011

teal (for the men i love, and the ladies who asked for it)

so today's blog is being posted for two reasons... 1: the fellas sent me a lotta flack because of my last blog post lol, and 2: it was requested since i don't have this piece currently posted anywhere else. soo... for my guys, and for those who asked, here is "teal" ;)

teal

he offered me the world in a crystal vase
when all i wanted was the heart on his sleeve
see he couldn't love -
he could need
he could want, he could feel
but love wasn't real to him
love was like teal to him
not quite blue
more like green

she was mean to him
mistook his kindness for weakness
laughed at his meekness
and dreamed at him
not of him
but at him
sent pillow-filled missiles
of what he could be and what he should be
till what he would be
would be of no use to him
see he couldn't love
he could need
he could want
he could feel
but love wasn't real to him
love was like teal to him
not quite blue
more like green