It’s been a while and so much has changed. I’m getting married. I hesitated but now I look at him and I just know that he’s the one I want to have kids with. The one I want to be a stay at home wife to. And the one that I want to be my husband.

Is it the way he cherishes me?

The way I wait for him to come to me?

How I count the hours until he arrives?

Or how he makes me breakfast in the morning while I’m still laying in bed?

Maybe it’s the way he kisses me awake?

Or how he lets me sleep in?

Either way, I know I’m in love and I’ve never been here before but I want the feelings to last. And if endings existed, I’d want new beginnings only with him.




via Daily Prompt: Perfume

Dear Mother,

You were everything did you know? I remember standing there wanting to be what you wanted. As you stood there spraying on that cheap smell. That dollar store fragrance. Standing in one of the three bathrooms in that suburban house you owned. In that pretty area that we lived in. Where every neighbor owned a pool. Where I often wondered if they could hear your voice carrying out from the garage door or his drunken voice trying to out beat yours.

The scent of your perfume from the cheap smell to the smell of that Gucci perfume that I could finally afford to buy you. To cover up the hurt. To cover up the hatred that I buried deep inside. As if one bottle could erase the hurt that had been carried over from the years of emotional abuse.

So I bought it and gave it to you with a smile. And watched again as you sprayed it on in the same bathroom with the double sided sink. As I stood beside you and prepared myself for a date and you for an outing with my father that you loved so dearly.

Wearing that expensive perfume. Only then was I slightly enough.

<a href=””>Perfume</a&gt;

Let’s Get Married 

Once again I lay in bed struggling to arise to the sound of my alarm clock. 

For four years I searched for love the way a blind cat rubs itself against every object looking for someone to show it affection. 

And I’ve finally found it.

I was goofing around the other day and so I changed his Facebook status to, “married.”

So he approached me and said, “Let’s do it, let’s get married.”

Sometimes I look at him and I think, “this man could possibly be my husband one day.”

Other times I think, “am I doing it for the same reasons again.”

But then I hear the advice that he gives other married men and I think to myself, “this is the man that I want to marry.” 

He tells them, “cherish your wife. Listen to what she has to say. Her worries are not just small things to be brushed off other wise she wouldn’t bring them up.”

And I know this man, I want to marry him some day.

But I think about my finances how in the next few months I’ll struggle to survive and pay my bills. And I think I’m doing it again. Marrying a man for financial security and I think, “I just can’t do it.”

Let’s Break Up – His Point Of View 

“I want to break up.” She told me again. 

Something we go through every other week. Sometimes it’s hard for me to understand and other times it’s not.

When I first met her, I thought to myself, “How could anyone treat her badly when she’s so lovable?”

But not everyone treats someone the way they should be treated. Maybe they saw daisies and thought it was weeds? 

All I know is I found a diamond and I knew she just needed some cleaning. Patience. 

But those words, “I want to break up,” they get to me every time. My heart cringes the way a hand can crumple a piece of paper. The way a nail scratches a chalkboard. 

They hurt the way a wound hurts every time it’s spilt open again.

And yet I let it persist hoping that one day it’ll stop. That one day those words will be no more. 

That fear is all that it is. And that one day she’ll look at me and see that I’m not the man she once married. But the man she was meant to marry. 

That I’m not the one that’s going to tear her insides apart. 

I’ll leave that to the horrible recipes we’ll try together. 

But that I’ll cherish her. 

Maybe one day she’ll look at me and see, “He does want me as his wife.”

And not just because I want a wife but because she’s the only woman I want to claim that prize. 


She’s the only one special enough to win the spot beside mine. 

The spot where she can be crowned my queen. Where I may bow down to her at times and she to me. 

Maybe one day she will see. And maybe then she’ll no longer say, “we need to break up.”

But I’ll patiently wait until that day because I know I was destined to. I was designed this way specifically for her. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be so calm every time she said, “we are through.” 

Not to say that I don’t get frustrated. Steam comes out of my nostrils and my face turns red for a second. But that second passes and I remember why she’s doing it.

And so I’m ok. 

Ok enough to know that I should continue with the phone calls. To continue on like we are still dating. It’s as if I was designed to be with her.  She is my other half. 

In a sense she is me without being me. And so I love her enough to wait. Enough to pursue. Enough to say in my mind, “if you must proceed.” 

But I’d never utter those words out loud because then it’d be like giving her permission. 

Instead I always ask her, “is that what you really want? If it is I’ll give it to you.”

Knowing and yet hoping that it’s not what she truly wants because if it was I’d fall apart. The day she tells me not to call her anymore and means it is the day I’d walk away in a trance. With fidgety hands. Shaking. Because I just let the woman that’s supposed to be my wife walk away. 

But if you love something let it go. And so I let her wander each time she says, “let’s break up.” Knowing and believing she’ll come back to me. 

Because I believe in us. I believe in her.

To Love A Woman Like Me 

My eyes have no tears left to cry for all that I’ve been through. I’m not sad.

Some days I wonder, “What’s the point of going on?”

And then I think if I don’t have hope for tomorrow then what do I have hope for.

So I wake up each day, moving along to the motions of the moments. Breathing the air. Inhaling the scents to keep my heart beating because it’s the only thing that keeps me going.

My friend asked me today, “list three things about him that annoy you.”

I could only think of one. 

Sometimes I don’t like the way he breathes before he laughs.

So I asked him the same thing.

“List three things that annoy you about me?”

Hoping he’d say the same thing. Because in my eyes he could do no wrong. 

“He’s perfect.”

But perfect wasn’t me.

He listed his three.

1. How I break up with him once every other week.

2. How I don’t always speak my mind.

3. How I say things I don’t mean to push him away.

And it hurt.

But that’s what it means to love a woman like me.

One who’s been abused in her past, one who’s been in a controlling relationship, and one who is divorced.

It’s hard for me to love.

Every time I come close, I question where I stand. I look back and I wonder if it’ll take me back to where I once was.

The needy and dependent woman who couldn’t make it on her own.

And I scream inside. Cry. Lay on the ground and cry but shut down on the outside. And say it’s over.

Because, “It’s over,” is all I know how to say.

And I’m not sure where to go when the going gets rough.

I’m not used to people staying.

I’m not used to things working out.

And I’m not used to being good enough for someone else to love.

So I hold my head up high and pretend like no one else in the world matters.

Because deep down maybe they can’t in order for me to go on. Maybe they can’t. 

The Ex

I called him because something came up and I didn’t know how to handle it.

And for ten minutes he was there and in that ten minutes I wondered, “what if?”

The way I always wondered, “What if?”

Because that’s love isn’t it?

When you love someone, you love them with all of you and when you let go, you only let go piece by piece. But a piece of them remains inside of you. That piece stays with you, lingering on, always making you wonder, “what if?”

As if love could’ve taken you places you had no idea about. As if, if you’d tried a little harder, love would’ve taken you a little farther.

But today, I realized, that little piece of him that still remains was wrong.

Because I called him a second time to tell him, “You were right. I had nothing to worry about.”

“That’s great.” He responded.

“Yeah my new boyfriend is really great.” I told him.

“So what’s going on?” I asked him because he told me in our previous conversation that he was going through serious depression and anxiety.

“I’m actually in the middle of eating and I’d like to finish my food.” He said.

Not adding I’ll call you back. Or anything in between.

And it was in that one moment that I realized that there are somethings better left as is. We broke up for a reason and the man I have in my life came for a reason. The one I walked away from, I walked away from for a reason.

All the reasons why I left came back. All the times I wanted to stay, all the times I was too much work. All the times I cried and cared. All the times I cared too much and in that one moment I knew I made the right decision.

Because never once did this new man say, “I’m too busy for you.”

It’s always, “You can call me at any time. Even if it’s at three in the morning.”

Or, “I truly believe you’re the one for me. So it’s okay, whatever it is, we’ll work through it.”

It didn’t matter if he was eating. “Are you eating?” I’d ask him.

“Yeah.” He’d respond.

“Do you want me to let you go?” I’d ask him.

“No. You’re good.”

Late night phone calls because he can’t fall asleep until he hears my voice. Early morning phone calls because he likes waking up to my voice.

Both just patiently waiting until the moment comes when we can say, “I do.” Knowing it’s too soon.

For a spilt second I thought, “what if?” But then he said, “I’m busy.”

Realizing once again how even after all that was said and done I was still the one doing the chasing. Chasing for a relationship. Chasing for a friendship. Chasing to be there because divorce hit and depression tore him apart when I walked out the door.

But who was I to try anymore? I had to leave him at the door where I left every part of me that I gave away to him.

And give everything new to this man had walked into my life. Knowing that this is the scariest thing I’ll ever do because I’m not used to being pursued. But something about this just feels right.

Because he says, “You’re the one. I want to make you my wife.”

What Am I Holding In My Breath?

I take off my ring and play with it. The way I long for him to play with my hair. Rub his finger against my chin.

Love if you asked me about it, I’d tell you I don’t know. Abuse, I’d tell you, that’s all I knew. And control, that’s all I’ve witnessed.

But in one breath, one kiss. He’s become more then I could imagine.

I don’t ask if it’s real. I know it’s not a fairytale. Because we fuss and fight but his patience brings us back together.

He’s the diamond int he rock I never thought I’d find.

So I hold my breath afraid it’d be too much because he’s not what I’m used too.

Love Found Me

“I love you.”

Said so many times I don’t even know what it means. Each man thinking, “He’s the one.”

Only to realize that he’s an illusion of what I’d want him to be. Not an image of what love should be.

But then love came when I’ve cheated. When I’ve played games. When I’ve been it for a one night stand. Hoping, running, trying my best to escape the hurt that never seems to fade.

Love came and it found me not lying on the bedroom floor. No it found me when I’d slowly picked up my own pieces. When I’ve said, “I surrender,” because the last guy was a jerk.

Love walked to my door, knocking gently when I wasn’t looking. Showed me the colors of the world when I only saw gray. Entered me into an artist’s master piece. Introducing me to the feeling of what it was like to walk on a magical landscape. One filled with ocean waves and beaches as love walked by my side.

It kissed away the sexual relationships. Knowing far to well that what I longed for and pretended to want were not the same thing.





The One

His brown eyes looked down on mine as we waited for the subway to arrive.

As I leaned in closer hoping he’d kiss me so he’d have to drink that night. But hoping at the same time that he’d kiss me just to kiss me because he’d forgotten the rules because I mattered that much to him.

And it was at that moment that I knew if the, “one,” existed. He was my, “the one.”

Moments before my friend David created a drinking game for us to play. Each of us had something we couldn’t do.

“Who ever does this has to buy themselves a shot. So Riko can’t say, “My belly is so big or my outfit isn’t cute.” if she does, she has to take a shot.” David said.

“So then you can’t speak in your Boston accent or say “Wicked.” I followed.

“What about David.” David my friend said in reference to my boyfriend, also named David.

“I know.” I said.

“He can’t kiss me or hold my hand tonight.”

David my boyfriend hesitated. Switched from having his head on his hand to standing straight. Raised one of his eyebrows at me.

“So I can’t kiss you or hold your hand all night?” He asked.

My friend David and I both nodded in agreement.

My boyfriend rolled his eyes.  Then turned his head to the left and back. but in the end agreed.

Now here we were thirty later minutes waiting for another subway. Thirty minutes too long since our last kiss.

I looked at him. Watched as his eyes looked into mine knowing just how badly his lips wanted to press on to mine. Heartbroken as the subway approached and he backed away.

My heart dropped for a second as I wondered, “What if he could never kiss me again?”

And it was at that moment that I knew.

That if the, “one,” existed then he was the one I’d been avoiding and yet hoping for all at the same time. The way he patiently put up with me as I pushed and shoved him out the door. Poured gasoline on our relationship and lit it on fire and yet he stayed.

Fussing over the past as if it mattered. Knowing deep down all I wanted to do was throw a fit to make him run out the door. Because I’ve always been too much.

But to him, I was always just enough.