Listening to Jill Scott sing verses I wish I could tell u. copying emotion and words to equate my life. The love she sang about in songs leaves my desire to call u increased, by my want to touch you. And so..
“It’s so hard for me to say this
I'm struggling to find the right words
What I've felt is past tense
What I feel you just haven't heard “(I think its better)
And yet you’re gone. I am alone. And no where to be found is your love for me in between these songs and sentences. Time has past since our last speaking and replays of your voice repeat on the night hour especially. Or the early rise time. And yet she sings those songs of words I have been writing for months, but have not spoken in years.
'You love me especially different every time...' (He loves me)
True feelings of question mixed with certainty of understanding the knowing but desiring the invisible, of being within the presence and absorbing someone essence, all the while not knowing more than the illusions your mind creates off the feelings your heart makes, from the time spent on Saturdays.
”You woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me ,You school me, give me some things to think about ,Ignite me, you invite me, you co-write me, you love me, you like me ..“(He loves me)
She said. And I feel it, even after the 12 hour mark of cuddles and consul. And so I play her on repeat.... so I can repeatedly remind myself of the purity of such emotion. How her voice coincides with the thoughts running in my mind...
“They say I'm crazy the way you got me open, baby ooh
They say I'm buggin' the way I'm top sweatin' your lovin', ooh
They all sit and wonder why this feelin I can not hide
It ain't a question of pride, ooh
It's love, ooh it's love (its love)
And at times I agree. I currently spend countless hours not missing our physical moments of intimacy, but better yet your way to convey your inner thoughts with your presence and speech. Our conversation. Connection. And yet I say....
“Give it up, give it up, give it up, give it to me
Gimme that love, gimme that love, gimme ...” (its love)
Because I am sure if I can want to conquer the insecurities of your inner soul, I would not mind being within your temple... I have desires to transcend such connection of being misguided by life quest and stress conquerors without the assistance of friendship censors and love. And I miss u... and yet
“Honey molasses, ebony majesty
Chocolate brown shuga, sweet epiphany
I waited for your call but you chooz not to call me
I wonder what happened
Were you inside a safe space and too I wondered
Were you thinking about me and if you were
Why was I feeling so lonely” (honey molasses)
Was it all jus magic... I don’t know whether to write or sigh...stuck in a fantasy land both of us are fond of creating.. Yet mine is more real in my dreams than in my (your) arms. Because as I began... I end... things she sings I have been writing for months... and yet when I have desires to be the star in your shooting range that evokes thought instead of pain... when I want...but I am gone. U r gone. And so I wait... for that phone call. That visit. The dictionary entry. Wu tang love. Our inside listed for only our confirmation.... And instead when here come flashbacks…
”At night we would watch the stars
And he would physically give me each and every one
I felt like cayenne pepper, red, hot, spicy
I felt Dizzy, Sonya, heaven, and Miles between my thighs
Better than love, we made delicious
He me had, had me he
He made me tongue tied
I could hear his rhythm in my thoughts” (love rain)
And I think about how he is not here. ..And so I jus play Jill on repeat... and she keeps me... in visions. Until the next track…meeting. Nite cap.