As I lay here in this lonely room staring at the cream colored walls. My mind starts to wander to thoughts of you. I think about you grabbing my waist from behind right before you fall asleep and holding me. Even though I’m not a person who enjoys cuddling I enjoy the action of you wanting to be close to me. There’s few times I feel comfortable enough to let go and allow myself to be in the moment and tonight I miss that. On nights like tonight I miss you. 

It’s not a feeling of being left behind or sadness but a feeling of longing. It’s a feeling that fuels the smile on my face when I see you pull up in your semi truck and pushes me to run and jump into your arms. 

These feelings allow me to remember what it is like to excited again. I spend these nights like tonight to prepare for the day that you’ll be home and prep for how I’m going to show you my appreciation of the man you are to me. A night like tonight reminds me to let silly debates go and to keep things fresh. To be happy I’m your wife again. Sometimes I get so caught up in the frustration of sharing a life with someone with different thoughts and opinions I forget that ultimately I love you. And that even though it doesn’t always seem like it I want more love from you. 

On nights like tonight I just miss being in your arms and can’t wait to see you again. 

By C L Cunningham 

When they say 

When they say to me oh you get to stay home must be nice. Bitch please are you kidding me? I busted my ass for 9 of these 12 years. When he was in jail I held down the house by myself and still put money on his books.
I went to school and worked for little to nothing to maintain. I spent those hours by the computer studying to take a job I was good at but not fulfilling. I made the flyers for his basement barber shop while he spent his nights in the streets doing God knows what. I typed his court papers and filed for his custody hearings so he could be able to be a father to his children after his six baby mamas felt bitter because he married me.
I’ve put my body through hell to try and produce an offspring for him knowing I couldn’t do it physically in the first place. Suffering time after time when the test would say yes but my body said no.
What the fuck you mean that I’m lucky. I’ve put myself last every time he’s been unsure of what it means to be a married man with responsibilities. Leaving me hanging on bill day and I didn’t make him feel no less as he found his way and started his new career. I said no I’ll work you go to school. When he got sick I took care of my ailing grandma, his kid, and mines by day and fucked him in his hospital bed at night.
I chose this life and all it’s ups and downs. I stayed his church girl for 8 yrs until I started the journey into finding myself and broke free from the ideal of what I should be doing. I can’t work outside the house because he don’t like it. And that’s ok because I’m gonna make me a career behind theses walls. So keep your condescending tones and your jealous attitude over what you think this is. Bitch I earned it and if you haven’t yet then put in more work and have a cup of shut your ass up.

By C L Cunningham

What is sexy?

What is sexy? 
My body was made with joy and pain. 

Changed by the years, the men, the food and the kids

But is it what defines my sexy or my sex appeal?
And if it does then does my attitude and intelligent matter at all?

When I speak my truth and spit my knowledge is everyone waiting for me to shut up

Turn around and show them what I’ve got?

I’m trying to push intelligence and no one is listening does it take for me to 

P pop on a headstand for the world to take notice of my presence?

And if I did would that be sexy?
By C L Cunningham 

Just because we can should we?

How can I ask him to heal me when I don’t know how to heal myself? To want him to put in the work to save my heart when I don’t know if I’m wanting to be saved. Maybe I want to drown in the bottom of this bottle of sin. Maybe I want to fade away into the sky like this smoke I blow into the wind. Maybe I don’t care if the love is real because I prefer it to be fake. Maybe I prefer to hear the forgive me baby instead of the your my one and only lady. Maybe it gives me the out I secretly think about. 

The chance to run as fast as I can before I fall for another promise he can’t keep. Just maybe he’s more afraid of me than I am of him. Afraid for me to make him feel the love he’s never had before and walk away with his heart in my hands and his tears on his pillow at night. 

Maybe we don’t know love. What we thought was love was a Disney fairytale put into the color in our minds and made us feel good but not fulfilled. And if that’s so then how can I ask him to give me what I don’t know how to receive? If I can’t believe his truth then I won’t accept his love and isn’t that is more messed up than him telling me a lie? Are we whispering sweet nothings into each other’s minds to amplify the moans in the darkness of the night. Do I love you? Do you love me? Do you respect me for standing by your side and letting all that bs ride? And if so; then how? 

By C L Cunningham 

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