AGAPE - I AM Arched

I love you, constantly, but only in secret. Because, I couldn't stand the public humiliation of my affections not being returned. So I settle to think of you, hurt for you, long for you, without the self-degradation of hoping for you. The pursuit of someone who you can not have, when love and care is what you presently require the most, will render the proudest of the mightiest null and void. Instead, I detox from the sound of your voice. I wean from the sight of your face; your full lips, round eyes and fiery features. Seldom do I reminisce of fonder times; talks of love, joint ventures and divinations of the cries of productivity. Ashe. But I stand a self-defensive Being with a memory that can not and will not withdraw. Predecessors reign as a reminder of what is all too common. A lack of sincerity, selfishness, unreasonableness, cowardice, lack of vision, but most importantly, irreverance has made me a Woman of skepticism. After twenty-eight years of Being, seven years of Motherhood and a year of Marriage that mirrored the emotional turmoil of relationships passed, I will not invest in the unmanifested. I held on, I hold on to all that I know to be true, solemn and benefitional. No man who wants me, truly wants me, could stand to be away from you.

You remind me of Chuck, Shango. You remind me of Larry, Shango. You remind me of Dontavius, Shango. You remind me of Reggie, Shango. Tell me the Truth of what you feel, what you're dying to hide from me, Oh Fiery God of the Heavens. You burn so gloriously, for what seems to be for the purposes of self-gratification only, and then set without fail. Where are you? Where are you going? Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Lift up.

The moon couldn't deny you if She tried, Shango. Winged and ablaze, you are mine. Though, I will remain content being the only Being who knows. But lust for me this, was I not worshipful enough? Did I not pause from gazing at myself to see you and your warmth? Was my hand mirror not demoted from its necessity, waiting for you to praise what I do? Was my mouth not wide open for you? Did not drink from you? Did I not sing your praises and allow your current to move me, Oh Shango? Willingly, I submit. I submitted. But I can not respect you enough for you to respect yourself. Oh Shango, I AM not your bitch. You prefer the relations of dogs, who by nature require, and therefore seek, the Mastery of others. I do not bark, I do not sit when I am told, I do not lay down on order unless your intention is to please me. I will not fetch the news, it is yours to seek and read and learn and what man wants information that's been slobbered on by a lesser being?

I AM, all day, especially at night, I AM. I AM, when you have chosen to abdicate your responsibility due to self-bestowed inadequacy, I AM. When my constant words of encouragement, caresses of passion, bites of ardor and ecstacy go unheard and unprolific in your ears of immaturity, dependency and weakness,  I AM. I would grant you my hand mirror to aid you on your chosen journey of loneliness, wishing, though I AM SHE that grants them, that you see in you that which I do but, do you See, Oh Fiery God of the Heavens? I AM arched.

I laid there, in submission, agape, for him and him alone. "Shango..."