Mr. Mayfield

Dear Mr. Mayfield:

I'm writing you this letter because I think about you all the time. And while that should be all cliche and cute, it's pathetic and unexplainable. Every little stupid thing reminds me of you, and makes me want to call you just to hear your voice. Or sometimes, there's those moments that I hear a song and start laughing because it brings back those memories of when we used to be "homies." Do you remember? Those times when I would tex you just to say hello, before the confirmation was even sent back, you called and wanted to see me. Remember?

Or how about the time I spent pretending I thought of you as nothing more than a friend, and you, you spent that same time antagonizing me to tell you how I felt. We broke that trend, didn't we? Icould have sworn we did because after one weekend of being on my front line, you placed me on yours! I remember that first night. It's always the massage that gets em', huh? You laid your head on my back, laid me on my side, and as you curled me into your arm, you kissed me like I've never been kissed before. So delicate. That's how you made me, delicate. So delicate that when you weren't there, I shattered.

See, Mr. Mayfield, when you called that day to tell me to come see you, that meant something. Knowing that it was me you called everynight to say good-night made me feel that even in your most captivated stage, you had me on your mind. That's an irreplaceable feeling. "My Shorty" right?.....RIGHT! I put my Q.T. in and I thought you were going to stand behind yours. Why initiate my thoughts to reality by saying things you knew I would never forget? Call me five times a day, starting each conversation with "Hey Baby," or "Wat's good Mami?!?" WHY???????

Mr. Mayfield, I just want you to know that no matter what colors you show, I can't take you off that damn pedestal. I can't help it and I don't know why, but I try so hard to forget you and the more I try the more I realize, to try and forget someone really is an attempt to always remember them! So I call you, and what do you do? You tell me how you think about me, give me more reasons to disregard my instinct, and make up some excuse why you can never come through. So now I ask you, if your words hold truth, and your gestures are as real as you claim to be, why can't you follow your heart?

Another piece of paper that holds my emotions I will never let out!

Love Forever
Shorty

--by Conflicted1031, Queens, NY, 10/15/2005