Wild Fire

"It's either me or him Beyonce I'm not finna keep being your fucking booty call every time you think he's not a real enough nigga for you."

I watched as she stood up, wrapping the grey silk blankets over her bare body.

"That's not fair, Y/nn, and you know it." At the time, all I could feel was rage. Angry with myself for being a fucking imbecile. Angry at how in love I am with the girl in front of me, Just so fucking frustrated.

"How is it not. If you love me like you said you do you'll leave that nigga right?" She simply gulps forcefully and tightens her grip on the sheet. "Right..."

With a last nod of my head, I realized this wasn't going anywhere, so I grabbed my grey joggers near my foot and quickly slipped them on. I was too hurt to care about my wrinkled white T-shirt on the opposite side of the bed.

Walking towards the door I stopped. "You know where to find me when you finally see he ain't ah genuine nigga like me." With that, I stepped out of my bedroom ready to just smoke the rest of the day away.

There's highs and there's low's but will that be enough? Enough to see the real?