Being the other women is not an accomplishment, it’s a chore…It requires more of you…

More that you’re willing to know.
The other woman…


A tangled Web an older man weaves

His eyes are piercing, so focused. He doesn’t blink. He looks into the depths of your soul as if he knows every little secret. It’s almost as though he sees right through you. He sees the way you vacillate between your choices, the way you pretend to be so damn sure of yourself while toting your cute work satchel, walking up the stairs to your cubicle in your very sensible heels. Your fake-it-til-you-make-it game is strong, but he pokes holes through your facade.

He has twenty years on you. While he lets you think you’re making all of the rules and setting the pace of this unfolding game you’re playing with him through flirty emails and work lunches that hint at something more, the truth is, he has you figured out. As frustrating as this is, to constantly be one step behind a man who appears to consistently make power plays, it’s thrilling. Because each time you attempt to outsmart him, you wonder what it would feel like to surrender. You’re curious. You want to know what would happen if you suspended all logic and let him call the shots. How would it feel to let him show you tonight what it will take men your age years to master? Because the truth is, deep down inside, not only do you want him, you want to be him. You watch the way he wields his power in his corner office on the floor above you and wonder, “What does it feel like to be so confident, so sure?”

You look at those delicate flecks of gray in his beard, betraying his very youthful eyes and smile, and picture him doing very adult and very naughty things to you. The rational, safe girl you’ve always been is slowly being eclipsed by the daring woman you think you want to become.

And then you remember: his daughter could practically be your sister, as you’re just a mere nine years apart in age. And even though he claims his relationship with his wife is strained, he is still very married, albeit unhappily. If you wanted something more (and you can already tell you would – those hands indicate that this man has all of the right weaponry), you could not have it. Because the fact of the matter is, affairs are ugly, divorces are messy, and eventually, you’ll get tired of only being able to call and text him during designated hours. There would be no picking up takeout, enjoying his company without restrictions, and lazily waking up to each other in the morning. He made his choices, he made his commitments, well before you were even old enough to legally drink.

So here you are, stopping this budding attraction before it goes too far, because you know that in the end, it’s you, the potential young mistress, who will lose. And while this small remnant of power is satisfying, the fantasy is always more compelling.


Originally posted on From A Wildflower

Is This Really The End? (part 6)

No joy comes from being the other woman.
Lust will never be enough to sustain you.


You beg and plead. I even have you on your knees But that won’t change my mind. She needs to know EVERYTHING!!

You get angry. A volcano of emotions explode all over your body. Trying to scare me with your Hulk like anger. Baby you wouldn’t even harm a fly. What makes you think you would lay a hand on me?

[Remember when you’d strut around like a god? When the world was at your feet and what you desired, you got. Your gloating to your homies- you got them both. Puny god…]

You gather your stuff and leave like a wounded puppy.

I’m left alone with my thoughts. I’m ready to tell. I want her to know about our sins and secrets. This heavy load on my shoulders is weighing me down. Am I ready to ruin our friendship? I’m not ready to cast dark clouds over HER happy…

View original post 308 more words


She dreamt me into existence…
I was no threat,
I mean,
He was just my friend,
Nothing about it was pretend.

From borderline brother,
To undercover lover,
Like harmless breeze turned thunder.

Like Alice, 
I’m in Wonder…
I’m lost,
I’m confused,
My feelings;
Who knew?
Me and you?!?
From Souled Out tunes to old school blues,
From bluesing to bruising
From humming to moaning the same tune.

Her insecurities, prophesied
Didn’t take long ’til they materialised
Now I’m mesmerised
Living another life
Caught up in a web of lines
I am not his
He is not mine.

♥ Kamiz

I Can Never Be Her…


I can never be her…
I can never have the effect she has on you.
I can never get THAT look you give her,
Or have the satisfaction of making you smile like she would.

I don’t know her.
I’ve never seen how she looks
But I can tell how she looks
By the way you look at me…
I can tell that she’s tall,
With long black hair,
Smells like Chanel,
With light brown eyes, 
& skin that’s fair.

I know when you’re with me, 
You’re never really with me.
I can tell you’re thinking of a girl, 
Who might slightly resemble me.

I can see deep down inside,
You fear that you might lose 
the remaining pieces of her.
You’re so scared that you 
might eventually confuse me for her.
So you still stubbornly cling to the remains
& refrain from fully committing to me.

It ended too soon,
That’s why you’re still caught up on her. 
Wandering how things would be,
If you never broke up!

I hate how she has a hold on you…
How she can make you wish 
I was her when you hold me, 
& how you tell me you love me 
Then look away…

I can tell that .
She’s the one girl, 
Who you love more than me.
You seem to somehow forget,, 
How much I love you!

I don’t even consider her competition,
Here I am, 
Running a race… 
Knowing very well who’s gonna take first place!

I know… 
For her? 
You’d leave me lonely!
Just let me know 
If I’m standing in your way…

Truth is, 
I can never be her…
I’ll never change myself for an opportunity at love,
For something that Might happen, 
No certainty or guarantee..
I won’t fool myself 
By telling Me 
That you really wanna be with me
Right now.
I’m merely a mirage of the person you love.
The person that should’ve been me…
The person I Couldn’t be.
The person I refuse to be &
The person I’ll never be.

♥ Kamiz