My insecurities. My truth. My story.
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Just as the wash is loaded with all your other girls’ socks you thought I’d never see, you loaded…me. With a love that bloomed so intensely…and insecurities blossoming from deep within me. Perhaps an insecurity so deeply rooted from your lack of decency….from this dirty laundry…that doesn’t belong to me. Just as the wash fills with water, my tears fill these bedroom sheets. Lost in a confusion of not being ready for you…yet you claiming to be ready for me. Lost in the reality of my broken fantasy…I fell in love with you loving me. Lies and deceit…yet honesty beseeches me. I fell into a quest of just wanting to be loved…and as it turned out…this dirty laundry just might be clean. “You can’t change a man.” That’s what they tell me. But, what if…I am him? And he is me? Soaked in my filthy insecurity, you changed me. Stuck in your lustful sarcophagus, all I want is to see you clean. I like to believe you did it once…just for me. But, I wasn’t ready for you…and you weren’t ready for me. Now all I think about…is you and me. Let’s do this dirty laundry. When you soak in tears, you always find a smile. When you make pain look this good, you always find a smile. Baby, never get confused. A girl after your body will jog for you, but a woman after your soul will always go the extra mile. How could I trust you when I see this dirty laundry? How can I wash away my sins if you can’t offer me security? Perhaps this is too much to expect from someone who I’m not even ready to make mine “exclusively”. But, as this dirty laundry washes, so is your fantasy of marrying me. Because for now, we might be young, wild, and free. But if I can’t believe we’ll ever make it, I’ll never be able to let you be with me. If we can’t be un-exclusive with each other solely…then here’s our dirty laundry. I mean how would you feel, if it was late after our date and you saw me trying to hide my phone after it rings? If we’re going to wash this laundry, let’s be clear that in the beginning…it was NEVER supposed to be “me and you.” I was always supposed to play you, use you, abuse you…NEVER letting you get two steps ahead to trip, fall, and love ME. Escaping the trap of one wedding ring, I just wanted to be free. Now, you got me over here dreaming of a cottage and a baby. But, there won’t be a safe haven safe enough for our dirty laundry…if I’m not honest with you…and you’re not honest with me. When I call you late at night and you don’t answer me, I either think you’re asleep, you’re on the phone with another bitch, or you're cuddling another bitch…in the room filled with my letters on your wall, my pictures, and my dirty laundry. Yet, when you’re with me…I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in your smile. I can see it everything around me…You’d do anything for me. While sometimes it scares me, sometimes it awakens a monster in me. Thinking devilish thoughts, “How far, how long…how high can I get him to jump for me?” If you’re going to leave out her sock around me, here’s my dirty laundry. I could’ve went back…..I contemplated going back to get my wedding ring…I went back…to see if he had my wedding ring….that was until I realized, “Dia, bitch, you don’t need to get married to be happy. You just want to be free.” Then, I did it. I finally agreed to my ex coming to come stay the weekend with me. Let’s do this dirty laundry. I joined Tinder just to rack a couple bodies for the day you tried to get an upper hand on me. Because you play around if you want to…with jokers in your hand, and watch you lose a queen to plenty who think of me as a dream. I walked through that same gate, stupidly, with a girl coming to see you. After we agreed to step back and be just friends, you said “Adia, you gotta trust me.” But, you didn’t call back that night. Let’s do this dirty laundry. When you make pain look this good, truth is…if you wanna be completely 150…even if we finally got this thing right, and you played me…you’d never hurt me. Because you forgot to consult the streets…I’m the Queen. And every ex I “lost” was never the “loss” for me. I always catch the dub, and level up for ME. Level up with me…or let’s do this dirty laundry.
She met you while you were still imperfect, but she loved you imperfectly. Marital bliss for years…and now all that’s left are these liquor bottles and misused & abused dirty laundry. Locked in a house where you two don’t even speak, let’s do this dirty laundry. A wife that gives and gives her energy to a husband stuck in his own pit of despair and lost identity. A husband that’s been through it all and life has gotten too hard, it seems…the days pass by faster, life gets easier with drinks from those blue liquor cans, tall liquor bottles, and dazed sleep. Let’s do this dirty laundry. Love is pain, and pain is love. A mother to her babies she literally rinses on a daily…enough love to give them but not enough to give to herself to get up and leave. A father to another baby that he never, ever seen…and another family. Let’s do this dirty laundry.
I ask, “Is the end goal always marriage…to be happy?”. Hard for me to believe in a “happily ever after”…when dirty laundry is all I see. It’s gonna take a hell of a lot of cycles…to make my dirty laundry clean.
Let’s do this dirty laundry.