2 Poems in One.

Wouldn’t say I hate you if I wasn’t thinkin bout you…
And purely outta anger say I’m better without you…
Constant excuses give me reason to doubt you…
To make you doubt me, I make friends and go out too.

But, Even when out, feelin the need to text you,
Bitches leavin you notes, givin me urges to check you,
Hoe’s, groupies and Boppers lined up to sex you,
So I stay on edge unless I’m standin right next to you.

And,
Even then, more possessive then I care to admit,
For Girls Raised In The South, I keep a pot full of grits,
Never used to be this way, but now it seems I got bit,
By the baby mama bug and common sense took a hit.

Now steppin out her shoes, and back into mine,
Flaca never plays the victim–she commits all the crime,
Finna click over and tell her, “If I want him, he’s mine”
“But I don’t, and you shouldn’t, why you wastin ya time?”

I started writing this poem about Jay back when we were still Fred & Wilma…but as I finished what I expected to be the last line, my homeboy’s gf calls me to ask if I’m messin with her man. Thaaaaat’s when everything switched. But on a sidenote, why girls (is she still a girl at 28?) call your phone and ask if you’re sleepin with their man is beyond me. This is my theory. If you took the time to obtain my number, dial it, and ask me that…you’ve already made it up in your mind what it is. I can easily say no (cause I’m not…eew) but that’s not gonna make you believe me or feel any better. And if I say yes, then what? Do you say, “oh, okay, I was just wondering”? and hang up? No…