This was my 9th time calling Beyonce's phone. I was so sick of this shit. Only God would know what she's doing. But it didn't take somebody like Einstein to figure it out.
Probably out with some woman, playing wifey like she's supposed to be doing with me.
Like I said before it wasn't new, it's just now she didn't care if I knew or not. She just knew i'll stay, so she didn't bother to try to hide her mistresses.
Our bedroom door busted open. It was her. Pants still unbuckled and a couple of her shirt buttons were missing.
I scoffed, some things never changed.
"Really Giselle? You come home at 1 some in the morning smelling like ass and another woman?"
She rolled her eyes and headed inside the bathroom.
"Oh so now you're deaf? Wassup with that, can't answer your phone. Her pussy was that damn goo—"
Before I can mutter another word out I was hit with a hard slap.
"To hell with that bullshit Onika. Nobody dogging yo' ass out"
Angry tears started to flow down my face. I pushed her back and went to my walk-in closet. I was fed up.
"Where the fuck you going, huh? Yeen got nobody out here"
"Beyonce i'm sick of you. This is how you treat your wife. The woman you so call love and cherish. I'm done"
I started aggressively packing some clothes, I should've been had this ready.
She picked me up, threw me, and let me hit the ground. And walked off like nothing happen. Didn't even bother to check my pulse, I could've died and I bet she wouldn't give 2 fucks.
I cried even harder. Grasping my chest. It hurt so much to stay with her. But I knew if I ever left her, it would've hurt more.
I laid there, balling my eyes out. Praying and praying. Wishing and wishing. Nothing never changed though.
She came back, looking like fire could come out of her mouth at any given moment.
I looked at her, ready to curse her beautiful self. How can she so sexy but act like the devil himself?
She started to hit me and I didn't even do anything. Didn't even try to block the hits, it was no use
"You" hit "Gone" hit "Stop" hit "playing" hit "wit'" hit "me"
"Go clean yo' self up tramp and go cook, my stomach touching my back"
My tears stopped, it wasn't that the licks didn't hurt, it was just they hurt more if I cried. She would come back if she heard any noise from me.
I slowly got up and headed inside of the bathroom. She glanced at me and back to the TV. Acting like she didn't just beat the fuck outa me.
Shame on me, I guess.
I cooked her food and decided to past on dinner tonight. My stomach was already filled with, hatred, anger, rage. All the synonymous emotions but neither at the right person. This was coming towards myself. It was vivid enough to see that i'll never leave this woman til she beat me dead.
I would think it was something to do, because after all I said yes, I was warned, and I still love her. No matter the circumstances, or no matter the pain, she was the woman I was hoping to change. Willing to be there through it all.
Even when she threw me in the pit of fire but saved herself. Even when she pushed me down, she was the one that helped me back up. It was her, I had no one else, not even myself. I was losing her, and finding her. It wasn't hate towards her, but towards her. My body probably wondering what was up with the hate I give it.
I was trying until I couldn't anymore. I shaped her out, and I wasn't finish until my last breath.
We all eat lies when our hearts are hungry.
When our hearts are hungry, we come from a place of lack and increased vulnerability. We are so starved for intimacy and companionship that we overlook red flags and the ability to look at things clearly.
We fill our souls up with intimacy and that everlasting love. But do it ever last?
We lack that common sense and bring in that susceptible self, we pain ourselves for that compassion within others.
I overlooked those warning signs and the realness to look at things in its real form.
I was only a woman, who was tied up with a egregious type of love. A love brought from a woman who promised me the opposite.
I saw an opportunity and took it. But what was held in that opportunity flew out like a discipline instead of a opportunity.
I cursed that ravishing spirit woman. Breathtaking beauty. And eloquently speaking, when it came to apologizing.
Things happen, people happen, life happen. I was sure that it was that "love, hate" thing, until the love started to look more like that hate thing. That same love she spoke so smoothly just to keep me under her wings.
Now i'm forever flying with her, because after all this, I forgot how to work my wings. She covered me in that undeniable feeling. That somehow made me forget. Even forget when that same "love, hate" thing, turned out to just be that hate thing.
I couldn't pull myself away, I tried. I didn't find it useful to try and know your going to fail. So I settled with my life, gotten use to it. Others call me crazy but I just wanted that one thing. My wife.
