Cliché

Cliche Is My Middle Name - Alone Again

                                         " An Ounce Of Prevention Is Worth A Pound Of A Cure "  

Wow, I guess I'm alone again. My friends tell me don't fret, but he stood me up at Bennigan's. I'm jumping in my feelings. So high, I hit the ceiling. Why he got me feeling this way? One day I'm by myself, and then the next he's standing beside me trying to help. Help me stay in love with him. Is it crazy that I feel like I need his attention. I'm the bad b*tch in detention. F*ck I'd rather take my damn suspension, cause this nigga he never mentions ; mentions that I'm his ; he never mentions that I raised his kid. I'm the mother, he's the baby, he need to sit down and get fed. Oh, wait, where's his bib? Sometimes I want to scream, but what is it worth? He's too busy taking care of business not showing no remorse. I sit down at home waiting for him to call my phone. And when he does he states, "Baby, I'm working late tonight." But what the hell is tonight if you're not going to be laying by my side. I don't want to go ballistic. Cause I'm really getting sick of this sh*t. I mean my man he's the boss, the king, and the drug lord, but when in the hell is he going to put Azalea on board. No monopoly sh*t. I passed go. F*ck them domino's. I shouldn't have to come to his door like I'm delivering. I'm getting so damn suspicious man. Like my damn mail man. I ain't having a stroke ; truthfully, I think this nigga is a joke. He cracking me up, but he gets on my damn nerves like an unbusted nut. What did I do wrong? Did I come on too hard? Was it my attitude, or did I let down my guard? Let me know. Cause I think b*tches is biting my swag. Walking round in dusty ass rags, and got the nerve to say they popping tags. Forget about them I need my king. I'm dope, yes sir, I know. F*ck being queen, I'm the damn pope. My friends come up to me talking bout, faith this and faith that. But do they realize that I ain't got no hope. I'm waiting for his legitamate ; yes his legitamate reason. Cause all hell will break loose if Quamaine comes back next year at the end of the season.  

Pacing. Sitting. Tapping. Flipping out. I couldn't control my actions as I tore up my damn office thinking about Quamaine. This n*gga hasn't been home in like two weeks because he's always busy, but what the hell is more important than me. Everyday I send one of my girls up to his job, and nothing goes on. I glad, but it still doesn't answer my question. I want to trust him so bad, but I can't trust him enough.

"Hey boo." Zenia stormed into my office with a ice cold frappe in her hand. 

"Hey." I said drosily.

"You still haven't seen yo' man?" She asked handing me the cold drink and sitting down across from me.

"No, I mean I love him, but I'm just curious."

"Sh*t if I was you, I would go up to his job and question that n*gga. Well, he lucky he not mines, cause if he was I would bomb some sh*t up."

"Cause you're ass is crazy."

"No, cause a n*gga need to know that he's my damn priority."

I nodded taking a sip from the drink that had just cooled me down, "You think you can help Nakeisha with the decors and stuff for the fashion show, so that I can give him a visit."

"Hell no. I refuse to be in the same room with that b*tch."

"Umm, I'm sorry Ms.Thompson, but Nakeisha's not coming in today." Jessica stated.

"Well, then yes I'll be honored to take over Fidele' for the day." Zenia pushed me out of my seat and flopped down.

"Well damn."

She smiled, "My bad, I always dreamed of this day. All I need is Trey Songz to french kiss me, so that he can set the mood right, and dig deep into my.............................."