After ending things with her ex, Mya starts writing again. While getting her groove back she also starts dreaming about a man she has never met before. He only appears in her dreams.
(full synopsis inside )
He reached and grabbed my hand But I reached and grabbed his face before he had a chance With me These thick thighs, fat ass, big lips not for sell Since we talking prices let's negotiate You see baby boy, I ain't afraid to beg But damn, in this game I want to chase I'm yearning for your lips between my legs Taste me Like Candy
"What do you think?" I asked my sister Sierra as I rehearsed my free verse poem to her for the 50th time. Her facial expressions were irking me the entire time and when it came to rehearing my shit in front of her it was going to take all damn night until it sounded worth listening to.
Poetry is like music well it is. People have to feel it and if they ain't feeling the words flow from the pen then that meant the shit was garbage.
I've been writing poetry since I was seven years old, my third-grade teacher introduced me to amazing poets like Langston Hughes and Mya Angelou. I admired their work and when it came to poetry I was a beast at it.
Sierra didn't drink so she took a sip from her wine glass of ice-cold water. She loved drinking from wine glasses because it gave her a classy vibe. "I love it, it sounds exactly like you. " She said.
"So I should perform it at that poetry slam you were telling me about?" I asked.
"Yes, you should perform it and plus I hear some big-time names are going to be in the building. I know you said how you wanted to share your poetry with the world. Spoken-word poetry is your shit and the world needs to hear that." She replied.
"I don't have a title," I confessed.
"Shit call it How to Bag a Nigga" She suggested.
"Why are you like this?" I shook my head while laughing at her.
She answered, "Because that's the idea of the poem bitch, we are from New York so that's a perfect title. Shit, bitches be coming into the poetry slam with titles like eat my pussy or suck my dick. And my favorite is Fuck me."
I agreed, "Nah, the first line of that 'Fuck Me' poem was wild. I'm cumming baby I'm cumming don't stop fuck me." I took a bite from my chop cheese sandwich. God, I was starving and I had refused to eat until this poem sounded amazing. I didn't want my poem to be long. I wanted it to get straight to the point the idea I went for was sex.
"That first line was wild, funny thing is that poem got girl signed to one of the top publishing companies." She pointed out.
"It did," I said.
The thought of being signed to a publishing company was always apart of the plan. I just needed to take some time off and figure things out. After ending things with Bryson it took me months to find love for writing poetry again.
Coming from a draining relationship like the one I was in for five years. I struggled a lot with finding a balance between my relationship and my career. Relationships were supposed to inspire you and being with Bryson I lost my motivation to write.
"Well, we have more practicing to do. Finish your dinner because this is going to take all night." She said.
***
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"Hola, mami." He leaned over the store's counter catching my attention.
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A chocolate brother, 90s fine type shit. He had a low faded cut, two gold teeth on the top, and an MCM leather jacket.
"Wassup, how can I help you?" I leaned over sucking on a cherry-flavored lollipop.
"Just a pack of Newports for my moms and your phone number."
"Short or long," I asked.
"Long baby and your number?"
I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote my name and number down. "Here."
He handed me a fifty dollar bill, "Keep the change baby." He licked his lips and then grabbed the piece of paper and pack of Newports from me. "Nice to meet you, Mya."
Ding Ding Ding.
I jumped up from the sound of my phone alarm. "Damn it,"
Recently, I had been having these dreams involving the same guy. I think it had something to do with my poems which I wrote about the same person. I called the guy him because I didn't know his name. The guy that kept appearing in my dreams I didn't know his name either.
The night after that I dreamt of him eating my pussy and it felt so real. I just remember grabbing my sheets and saying papi, papi, papi don't stop over and over again.
Luckily my walls were sound proof because it would be highly embarrassing for my sister who was staying with me for a few days while they fixed her bathtub hear me moan. Which explained my poem the one that I spent all night rehearsing.
I don't know who this fine ass chocolate man was. I never seen him before and clearly, he was the inspiration for my poems.
It was only six, and I had to open my father's store by nine. So I went my ass back to sleep attempting to finish my dream.
"Hey you, back so soon." He walked inside of the store grabbed a bag of chips then walked over to me at the counter.
"I wonder if you taste as good as that lollipop." He leaned over whispering in my ear.
I took the lollipop out of my mouth and put it in his mouth. "Come find out, ain't nobody coming in the store we are closed."
He came from behind the counter.
He put his hands between my legs unzipping my skirt. He looked at me and gave me a kiss so I could taste the cherry. He began to finger me as we kissed. My breathing increased and I pulled away from the kiss.
His lips were so soft and juicy. He licked his fingers afterward. "Just like candy, see you around."
