When it came down to the nitty gritty, of him finding out I slept with Pierre's wife, part of him knew that I had also cheated on him with his God brother Pierre, a man he loved and respected.
Yea, I could admit that I fucked 'em both. But with Pierre it was more of a thrill.

I was trying to understand why a stone cold lesbian would marry a man as opposed to being in love and truly happy with a woman.

So I gave him some trim and tried to assess the situation and wound up being dick whipped, tongue lashed and came all night long. I could certainly see why she married him, because Pierre was the Justin Slayer of the Hood.

Now it was all out in the open, and he wouldn't even talk to me about it.
     I tried calling him on his cell when he stormed out of here to work. He declined my calls. I left him a recorded message.
     I assumed he erased them because they went unanswered. I felt guilty; it was eating away at me, consuming me. Because of the silence he was giving me.
     And Blowing Kisses in the Wind, Waiting for Him like Paula Abdul and her sappy ass song wasn't going to cut it with me because she released the song for money; I just wanted an understanding from my ex.