Oh sweet architect, my bones are heavy and my soul’s a mess.
I’ve been lonely since the day you left, so come find my address, build me up, build me up…
The song playing on the radio on this summer afternoon had me staring longingly at the pool. Too bad the renovation days were over; they were the best days of my life. My husband mentioned that I had a different air about me, my glow was radiant and contagious, and my gait had a more stealthy and gallant sway. How could I tell him, I had tasted from the forbidden fruit of our architect, and now I was hooked?
Dear heaven you know we trying to make it, dear heaven you know it’s complicated, we still here, we still breathing. We’re knee deep with the deep needing….
Complicated, adequately described my emotion, I was in love with my husband, but I craved another man’s touch. The thought of having him one last time to get him out of my mind, didn’t seem so dangerous…. Sweet architect, come find my address, build me up, build me up.
Monaleesaah is a black skinny writer and singer, who can be a substitute therapist, and can be baited and thus kidnapped with pounded yam.
P.s she loves, white, black and grey