Whether the game of love ends on a bad note, I thought being honest makes the trust grow. Apparently it makes you argue more. The more things you throw. The DVD's and my dirty clothes. All while telling me to "shutup, I'm leaving you."

It was Stacey's life, but everyones entertainment. They would watch why she lived it. She walked, they followed. She talked, they hollered. They waited for her to lose it. She was just their entertainment.

He had game since he used to hoop in his driveway. Neither the ghetto nor defenders could trap him. For sure people that labeled themselves as his friends would act as though they had his back. He was living a live that they couldn't fathom. Colleges tried to get at him by recruiting and handing him all different types of scholarships. Even though everybody knew that he'd leave college quick for the pros. Haters called him the one from the hood that was chose. Others identified him as the black rose that grew in the jungle. Little that they knew, he was just a humbled kid thrown into the spotlight. Everyone wanted a piece of him. All different types of women gave him troubled love. The kind of love when you up they down. Because you can dribble a ball, they come around. When you win, they see it as their crown. Dudes that had known him for years, people that he shared beers, cheers, and tears with choose different careers. When he made it to the league the money and the fame came, and those same dudes did not know how to react. Once he came back home to visit, those same people he grew up with shot him in the back. 

roses are red
violets are blue
my feet stink
and so do you

people are shallow
what can you do
you betrayed me twice
and now we're through

He woke up and made himself toast with jelly.  He took a shower, the sound of the water echoing through the empty house.  He took the bus to work and sat in his office until lunchtime.  He ate a wrap from the food court below him.  He returned to his desk to read the proposals that had just been submitted.  At 5:30, he walked back down to the food court.  He bought chicken fingers and fries and ate them alone, just like every other night.   

Tonight I lie here alone playing through memories of happier days, shared days.
Once upon a time I beat with a purpose and a fellow pulse beat with me in a lyrical rhythm.
Once I felt a warmth that shared my warmth.

They say that everything comes in twos, but hearts come in singles so that we can find the other heart in our pair. So why when I found the other piece of my pair did it go away? Had we been wrong about him, you and I? I believed I had found my other half, didn't you? Did you really believe? Did you hear me when I told you that he was the one?

I guess not, because you got rid of him. Sure, he won't be a part of us now and that's his choice. But, wasn't it the fear you brought him that keeps his beating heart from me? Aren't you the reason I beat alone night after night? Maybe one day he'll come back and we won't feel so alone and don't sit here and tell me that you don't feel alone, I can tell that you do. You should have listened to me. I never lied to you. Anytime he was around I picked up volume and tempo, anytime he walked away I screamed in agony for him to come back.

I wish you had heard me... As much as you wish you did too.

"love, live life, proceed, progress."