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I LOVED HER! Then I saw her husband.

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Her words drew me closer. I couldn't wait to rest in her arms. Her voice had the mezmerizing tone of sweet drops of rest; rain lighty dropping on peddles out side my window. I called her my Goddess.

This is not a Harlequin romance novel. It's about meeting someone who had touched my heart. She was beautiful on the outside but her words were my aphrodisiac. She expressed herself with the fearlessness of a wise queen. Her voice, although soft, aroused my soul like the anticipation on the night before Christmas. Heaven must be like this, it surely must be like this.

I surmised that she could have chosen any man as her constant companion, which forced me to ask, why me? Why have I fallen prey to the sweet perfume of her voice? Could this be love, or is it my imagination. Is there such a thing as love at first sight and has it captured me?

I am a very cautious man. My history tells me to protect my heart, as if it was the keys to my last dying breath. But I would relinquish those keys if I could forever stay in her bliss.

Oh stars, Oh God, what destiny does thine hold. Should I stop this mental agitation. Tell me why? Do I dream as a man that wishes on a star? Should I let her walk away? If I so dream, I wish to take her with me. I want to spend more time with her. More time to do it over and over again, and again, and again. If I could, I would, stay in her flow, her glow.

Hurt is a man that has a dream that he can't show, I wonder if she knows? I am going to lay down and dream. Again and again, I am going to dream of her! I have to dream because I want to go back to the way it was, because I don't love her anymore.

It was my secret, not our secret, she was my secret lover and she spoiled my dream. She didn't even know, yet I was captured by her stately grace, her rhythmic pace, but I found out she was married to a white man. Yes, I am not proud of it, but I have to admit, I have a thang against black women that have white men as their mates. And see, she didn't even know me, yet, I was enthralled by her outer beauty but most importantly, I was under the spell of her intellectual prowess. However, that love is now gone. Her words have been spoiled by the color of a man's skin. My prejudice has driven a wedge between me and my dream come true. She whispers, but the love is gone. Her words now fall on deaf ears.


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Chris, I believe the answer to your question is evident. I think an emotional attachment is the core to any relationship. The durations or some emotions are nothing more than fleeting moments. Love is not one of them.

For instance, if a person is startled or surprised, they will not remain so after a short period of time.

But maybe you mis-read the post.

Well, love comes in many variations(I love you becuase), it wears several masks(love of children, physical contact, loving someone yet not having contact with them, etc). Conversely, it walks out the door for a multitude of reasons.

So Chris, I probably would be still loving her if my prejudice didn't get in the way.

Hey, between me and you, this is a true story.

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Gee whiz, careless-careless, you spelled "mesmerizing" and "goddess" wrong, and "fallen prey to the sweet perfume of her voice" is a mixed metaphor of the worst kind. (You hear voices, you don't smell them, and since it's not a creature, perfume doesn't prey on people.) The only thing more terrible than that was "sweet drops of rest". Good Lord! I could go on but I will refrain from any further wincing at your "purple prose" lest you subject me to a barrage of all that pseudo-philosophical gibberish you punished Chris Hayden with.

Sorry, ol guy. That's what you get for writing something short enough for me to muddle through. Help me, Jesus, before I die laughing.

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Oh lord, not you again.

I have to admit that I did notice the spelling errors but I saw no reason to correct them.

To "smell" something or someone is frequently used as a coined phrase that implies I hear you, I feel you, or I understand you.

"Sweet drops of rest" refers to the sense of ease I receive from the "sound" of rain drops hitting a leaf outside my window and the soft breeze that accompanies them. Her "voice"/words gave me that same pleasure. And thus, I was captured by her.

This post was in a poetic form so please excuse it's confusion/misunderstanding. The message is still alive. And I believe that should be the main focus.

You know what. I receive about 100-150 visitors a day. That's not a hugh number but nevertheless, out of over 1000 comments I've received over the last 12 months since I started blogging, none have been as vengeful as yours(nowhere close). I am trying real hard to understand the motives behind your actions?

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Nothing like disregarding misspelled words and establishing your own literary rules, I guess. Just don't try to foist such defiance on a professional editor who has no time for amateurs.

I don't consider myself "vengeful" when I interact with you. Man up, and quit playing the victim role, deluding yourself into believing that my attitude is vested with enough energy to be "vengeful". What is it I'm supposed to be avenging????

Is it any wonder I find you to be someone whose personality exhibits the passive-aggressive tendencies that propel you to always cast yourself as a hero, and others as villains? But - nobody's perfect. And, in keeping with an increasing awareness about what a big joke Life is, I've decided that it's more fun to regard you as amusing rather than annoying, - obtuse rather than obnoxious. And does anybody really care? z z z z z z z

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So Chris, I probably would be still loving her if my prejudice didn't get in the way.

(so--now let me get this straight. If it was a BLACK man that is an AFRICAN AMERICAN man that is a SOUL BROTHER you would still be lusting after his wife, disrespecting the bounds of connubial propriety, seeking to destroy an increasingly rare event in the black community.

I just want to get it straight now.

But since she was married to a WHITE man, you backed off.

I just want to know brother cuz I respect you and you carry weight on the street and with the PEOPLES, you dig--

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Chris, I'm glad that you came back. I had a woman asks me (on the phone) if this story was true. I told her all my stories are true. Well, she asked questions simular to yours. See, I "thought" the message was clear, but obviously something was missing. I was NOT lusting after another man's wife. I believe I said that I didn't even "know" this woman, and she didn't know me. It was an emotional attachment. I didn't "love" her like I wanted to take her to bed. I loved her essence. But, when I found out that her husband was white, I sort of lost that loving feeling. Right or wrong, I have this perception of people that marry outside their race. I believe I called it a prejudice.

Iam not proud of that, but it is what it is. I've heard the debates about people are all the same and all that other post-racial mess, but there's something about a black woman resting in the arms of a white man. I'm sorry, but it just doesn't sit well with me. Sooooo, it was another love TKO.

Now, since I was able to have a conversation with the woman on the phone(to clear up the misunderstanding), she felt the same way. She said she has been around mixed race couples and she has seen their struggles. And, from her experience, she's noticed something "different" about them. But, her position has always been that each race should marry within their own race. So, that may influence her opinion.

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Carey in some ways your reaction to the woman shows how shallow you are. Or rather it betrays how shallow and fragile your definition of "Goddess" is despite the flowery prose and poetry you've heaped onto the woman.

Your admiration was so fragile that it could all be swept away solely because of the color of the man she fell in love with. The fact that she could find love should be more reason for admiration, not less.

Think about it.

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Furthermore, the goal of a writer should always be to connect with the reader. Any time he has to go into great detail about what his message is, and further exlain that his metaphors only have significance to him, then he hasn't done his job. He is, in effect, writing for himself; not the reader.

(I guess these remarks will be considered "vengeful" since they are not something regular visitors to Carey's blog would say, - the reason for this probably being that they are on the same level as he is.) But this is not annoying. It's AMUSING. LOL

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I have arrived! The big hitter, Troy, has stepped in the room.

"Carey in some ways your reaction to the woman shows how shallow you are"

That's a different take on the subject. Lets look at the word "shallow". If having a prejudice is shallow, well, lets all join hands. We ALL make decisions based on our likes and dislikes. I did not say I hated her or disliked the man.

Now, lets get out of OUR shallowness and dig a little deeper. You, Troy, have voiced your displeasure about Obama based on what you preceive to be his good and bad qualities. So, are you shallow?

Now, lets go a little deeper. I don't know if you've been in love or what you called your lover. It's my hope that you viewed her with the highest esteem. You might even call her your queen. But as the world turns, love finds it's way out the door. Relationships break up. That's a fact. You may still "love" that person, but the major thrill could be gone.

So Troy, dig a little deeper or you may expose how shallow YOU are. Think about it.

AND, lets remember that poetry is used to heighten a thought, and/or create a vision to embellish that thought. In this case, this peace seems to have hit it's mark.

I don't know what Cynique is talking about. Remember, she said she does not visit my blog. So, I am hesitant to call her out of her name but something ain't right. I mean, on one hand she's not there, and then on the other hand she says this... "I guess these remarks will be considered "vengeful" since they are not something regular visitors to Carey's blog would say"

I mean, when is she telling the truth? AND, I don't know if she has taken a poll or has talked with each of my visitors. But they come from across america and at last count, 25 countries. So I am wondering how she is speaking for them. And if someone does disagree (as they do on the daily)or agrees with me if their remarks are not vengeful, then, they are not. So again, if I can use one of her "missteps". Er'body knows what Cynique is on! She speaks for others and seldom has the courage to speak in first person. She does no wrong. Listen to her, she'll be back. She seldom admits to her wrong doings or the errs of her ways. And I doubt she can prove me wrong. I mean, she must be a mind reader or a voo doo women. I know debating with her is like hitting a midget with a brick.

She wrote: "Furthermore, the goal of a writer should always be to connect with the reader. Any time he has to go into great detail about what his message is, and further exlain that his metaphors only have significance to him, then he hasn't done his job. He is, in effect, writing for himself; not the reader"

Now, that my be the goal, but I am sure many writers are misunderstood. In fact, I believe there was a poem written for the Presidents inauguration, and they're STILL debating it's meaning. Think about it. You didn't even know the meaning behind "I smell you". So please, speak for yourself.

Get off google and venture out into the real world. Try to be a little creative. Take some chances, don't be scared. Don't let the opinions of other harm you.

If you're in a crowd of like thinking individuals, you might be in the wrong place. SMH @ Cynique. Shame on you.

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Oh, stfu, carey. You're the one who said of the millions of people who flood your blog none was as "vengeful" as me. Wooooo. Since you are stalking me you ought to know that I am not reading that rag inspite of how you lied and said that I am a constant visitor.

You are entitled to try and defend your story, seeming to think that because it's really a poem, that gives you a license to kill literary protocol. Unfortunately, your rationale is as incongruent as the story, itself. And for somebody who thinks they are sooo worldly, you are totally oblivious as to how infantile your ego is. Obstinance is not a substitute for talent. No matter how you try to slice it, your story is still baloney and a professional editor would make a sandwich out of it. All that's missing is the mayonnaise that you would probably compare to a melody because you have created your own ignorant standards when it comes to metaphors. And you have the nerve to claim that your stories are all true. Give us break. Your life aint' that compelling. zzzzzzzzz

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