Game On or Game Over?

That day, as you lured me into your world, did you think I wouldn’t notice? Or maybe you were hoping I would be, like the others, blinded by your expert way of making the obvious ambiguous. Did you think I wouldn’t sense the essence of the women that had been there not long before me? Was I not supposed to notice candles melted from misplaced passion or earrings forgotten in the haste to leave without a trace? Or maybe you were hoping your hugs would distract me from the faint echo of all the others, swirling around my body, taunting me or maybe they were warning me?

Warning me that one night with you would leave me stuck with the soul killing memory of being used and the stain of fingerprints and kisses that don’t wash away; no matter how scalding hot the water is or how hard I scrub. Maybe they were warning me that your kisses were laced with heartbreaking venom and your promises were infused with mind-bending deception.

But in your attempt to deceive you failed to realize one thing: I’m not like them.

Because you see, unlike them, my worth is not defined in the curve of my hips, or the pout of my lips. My value doesn’t rest in the swell of my breasts or the intersection where my thighs meet. There is so much more to me than the worthless thousand words a Twitpic can hold or the emptiness of a Sext message disguised as an innocent text message. I am not validated by requests for my image framed by a Skype window just to make you hype, you know? I am, however, mature enough to know the difference between playful banter and artful manipulation for self-satisfaction. I am that smile that can light up a day no matter how dark the clouds. I’m that chick in heels that commands attention when I enter the room, but will only accept it from that special one. I’m expert enough to weave a tale with words and skilled enough to have it rest on a shelf titled: Best Seller, yet grounded enough to pop a green bottle and play a game of Madden. More importantly, I am WOMAN enough to recognize the BOY in you. So as I walk out of your life, your eyes on my back and your mouth hanging open in disbelief; I can’t help but wonder: did you really think it would be that easy? Or has it been that easy because, as women, we are too worn out from the game to make it that hard?

I don’t know the answer, but I do know as far as this woman is concerned: GAME ON!

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About Author D.L.Sparks

Writing is not just what I do, it's what I am.

Posted on September 27, 2011, in writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Just wish to say your article is as surprising. The clarity in your post is simply spectacular and i could assume you are an expert on this subject. Well with your permission let me to grab your RSS feed to keep up to date with forthcoming post. Thanks a million and please continue the gratifying work.

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