Dear Lover….

I drove straight past your exit last night. I thought of texting you but….

……he was waiting. And I couldn’t keep him waiting.

My lips are raw from his kissing.

I know. I know, I know, I know he’s bad news baby! I know he is. But it’s part of the intrigue, part of the mystique and the passion. I know he’s an ex-con, I know he’s got a record for a few crimes and yes I’m quite aware of the fact that he was charged for physical abuse. I know this. But yet I hold my breath awaiting his next move because I’m secretly hoping a tad bit afraid he’ll hurt me. I know I’m crazy. You’ve told me so.

He told me I was as crazy as he was last night.

But he hasn’t hurt me. And I can’t ever tell you this because you’ll know I’m seeing him again, despite your warnings and what you know about him and all his bad-assness.

I have love bites all over my body.

I can recall so clearly your reaction when we figured out who he really was. Do you remember it? I was crying on the phone, telling you about the phone call I had received earlier from her and you gasped when I said his name and you demanded I leave him alone. Remember that? But I couldn’t. I went back. Like those stupid dumb girls I can’t stand, I went back.

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies”. But I know you’re going to ask me if I’ve heard or seen from Mr. Bad Boy. And I hate lying to you. You’ll know. You always know. You know me well enough to know when I’m lying, even over text.

He wants to see me on the regular.

I hate you. But last night I hated Mr. Bad Boy. I hated him with every inch of my being. The passion between us last night was enough to last the entire year. And you know what made it extra hot? He didn’t get up and go. He had no where to be, nothing better to do, no sisters to visit or aunts who needed money. Mr. Bad Boy didn’t move. Actually, that’s a lie. He did. He moved in closer to my body. And he kissed my back.

I’m falling for him all over again.

The whole time I was there I expected a call from you. You know it happens every time I’m with him. It never fails. When I’m giving Mr. Bad Boy the good-good, you try to communicate with me. Like you can sense my presence. But of course I don’t ever answer or respond ’cause…..well, you know.

I was afraid of running into you when I walked across the parking lot to my car. I was afraid I’d see you at the stoplight, afraid you’d ask me what I was doing down in your ‘hood. I thought of you. You still occupy my thoughts baby boy.

But guess what? I’m not a stupid dumb girl anymore. I like Mr. Bad Boy. I liked him from the first time my girl told me to look over at him, standing by the bar in that club we went to. And we locked eyes.

My arms and shoulders are sore from holding on to him.

You’re drifting baby. You’re slowly drifting away. And I’m not sure I want you to come back………….

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