Poets is powered by Vocal creators. You support Mia Lynn by reading, sharing and tipping stories... more

Poets is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.

How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.

How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.

To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.

Show less

I Love Him...

Oh... Shut Up!

To All the Girls I've Loved and Lost

"I think I love him."

                                       "I think you're sick. Rat-a-tat-tat... Is anyone home? I                                          think you just said the equation to why you're still                                            alone."

"But I could be his everything."

                                       "You've never even spoken to him."

"Technicality, technicality... I can... ... ... And, I will!

                                        "Start slow Red Corvette. Men don't want to be                                                     married before you both say hello."

"This will be different. He is a different kind, more mellow.                            I can feel it. He'll know I'm the one without                                                    one word leaving my tongue."

                                          "Oh really...                                                                                                                   Don't you think you're selling yourself short?                                                     Chasing after love so hard. You look like you're..."  "No, this guy is different.                                                                                          I can see it in his eyes."

                                            "Yeah?                                                                                                                           What color are they?"

------------------------------------

                                             "That's what I thought. From 20 feet away you                                                     have no answer because you can't see them                                                         clearly. So tell your lady parts, hush, you're                                                         sounding stupid, not smart."  

"You're mean!"

                                              "No, I'm really not. I'm real with you. I won't                                                      sugar coat a raw deal. I'm not trying to make                                                      light of how it is you think you feel. If you knew                                                him, I would speak sweetly of your romantic                                                      words. But of all of the above that I have heard                                                  of you perception of this love, it's foolishness I                                                    hear souring up my ear. You think quick. You                                                      speak quick. For once just think it over a bit."

"Why don't you believe in love at first sight?"

                                              "I never said I didn't believe in it. I might if the                                                  situation was right. But do you hear the words                                                    that flow freely and quickly from your loose                                                        lips. Words that activate the free-flowing stream                                                of your loose hips. The word Love is for                                                                someday, the right day, after you've said "Hello"                                                day and know his name day. Okay?" 

She was a wildflower that sat outside the windows of my soul and a woman I couldn't control. So carelessly she screamed for attention. She wore her continual heartache on more than just her sleeve. It was her constant, relentless want... ... ... No, need. She was at this point, no surprise because she was she.  My debutante. A friend of many years, many fears, and a river of tears. She was beautiful and by her own doing, on display, for all men, in an alarming unnerving way. She was, as she drunkenly would point out, "chasing down a train routed for suburban, responsible, structured, controlled, wife-life". How she got there she did not care. 

                                              "Tick-tock, tick-tock. My uterus is demanding. I                                                   grew up poorly without love. Please be                                                                 understanding." 

"Everyone has a rhyme, reason and/or                                                              excuse for the decisions they justify                                                                    as remedies for abuse. You're trying                                                                      to rush what might not be right and                                                                      the outcome may be more than you                                                                  can fight."

                                                "You're always so negative. I don't know why I                                                     bring you along. You always sing the sad song                                                     to bring me down. Just let me go."

"I have. You cried. I wiped away you're                                                                tears. I've been sitting here all these                                                                  years. I let you be you but it's me that                                                                  you come to when your world turns                                                                    blue. You ask me along because you                                                                  know I'll come and never let you fall                                                                  flat. I mend together your pieces every                                                              time with my own tact. But I can't say                                                              anything about the fact that it's your                                                                sad song we've been playing all along." 

                                                 "If what I am doing isn't giving me what I                                                              want, then what should I do, oh please, oh                                                            please tell me, magic all-knowing love guru."

"You mock. So I'll walk."

                                                  "No! No! Don't go!"

"Marry Me!"

I was a tractor trailer and she a fawn on the road. I couldn't help myself from blurting it out but I could see it put her mind into overload. All was silent as she sipped through her cocktail straw. No more eye contact or words to be said. Not a single one... at all. All her drama had been put to bed. It was at least an hour maybe more before we headed for the door. She was thoroughly wasted using my body as a crutch as I brought her safely to her front door, my debutant lush. Much like I had done many times before, I stripped her of her guise and wiped the make-up from her eyes and put her into bed kissing the top of her head... and then left.

The next day she didn't call. Nor the day after that. My words stopped her act and my words I wouldn't take back.

Read next: Trump's Wall
Mia Lynn
Mia Lynn

I'm a mother, a daughter, an artist, a photographer, a writer, a deep thinker, a reader, and a depressed anxious sarcastic cynical bitch. I mean what more could you ask for, right? (All Content Original!)

Now Reading
I Love Him...
Read Next
Trump's Wall