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Two Moments In The Life of MIMI:
"Got me clutching my pearls. But only a gal like me would clutch them in her mouth when taken by surprise. Well...do you prefer the last place you discovered them? I have no idea why I'm amused by someone with such a phantom sense of humor."
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There are few times in a woman's life when she feels more vulnerable than she does after having sex with a man for the first time. The rawness inbetween her legs is nothing compared to the lacerations and soreness in her heart. A heart that is barely tethered inside her chest. The heart's rapid pace is no longer the result of passionate kisses and the teasing caress of warm breath 1/2 inch away from her most intimate places. Each kiss, grab, grind, thrust, pull, lick, suck, gasp, moan, nibble and lingering gaze, all promises. Promises that things won't change and if they do only for the better. The moment he leaves some part of you detaches itself unraveling, hoping to be made whole. As more time passes your heart races, a conditioned response to ringtones and instant message alerts. Your heart drops when the phone screen reveals the name of a person whose flesh did not make promises while he devoured you and you begged for him not to stop. Marveling at the rivulets flowing down trebling thighs, while the insatiable passion ravishes on. Drink, eat, bite, make us both merry. Yet time has the audacity to pass after there is nothing tangible but the distance between you both. Inconsiderate days pass mocking your distress. One day after the next till you either forget, convince or be honest with yourself. What you really want is vindication. F*ck promises of the flesh, his sent has long since been washed away. The sore rawness of the intimate flesh is healing. Taking note during the restoration process, the heart missing a few tethers does not go unnoticed. Where have these disloyal parts gone? But this isn't about love, no not this time. What is it about then?
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