Til’ Love Do us Part

It’s all loddi-doddi until your pussy leaves the party. Not always literal, but when cooking gets substituted for the nookie, you go hungry in ways you thought were too ancient to touch.

That’s how it feels when proposed exotic looks fall dead. Sexy jokes don’t land. Touches make them tense. And you’re left stiff, feeling like a dick instead of feeling on the body it’s supposed to be inside of.

So you stop reaching for her like she owes you proof of forgiveness. And everything once natural feels like hesitation, like not giving enough.

You thought you had it laid out, with resolutions testing her resolve, the gentlest way. A brush against skin. A compliment. But none of it opens anything.

She doesn’t lean in. She waits.

You try to be safe, but now she keeps you in the danger zone, lower than a friend, feeding doubt.

You keep trying to fix what you broke without words hammering a mind and heart that healed hard.

And if she softens, you let it feel familiar, so love and attraction can stop being strangers.

Music I’m Enjoying

OutKast- ATLiens.

Book I’m (Still Reading)

You Deserve to Be Rich by Rashad Bilal & Troy Millings

Final Word

Repair doesn’t come with guarantees.

Effort doesn’t entitle access.

Act out of love, not attention.

To all the fathers wondering HOW THE FUCK DO I DO THIS?

My advice is: Just don’t pull out.