• Prose: To His Ex-Girlfriends, Baby Mamas, Hoes & Boo Thangs

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  • Prose: To His Ex-Girlfriends, Baby Mamas, Hoes & Boo Thangs
  • Posted by: Lalanii, February 15, 2016
  • I can’t say for sure he’s perfect, because I don’t know that.

    I can’t say for sure he’s forever, but he’s here now, I know that.

    I can’t tell you what to do with your time, but I can tell you, I am happy with mine.

    Please leave me alone and let us live our lives. Paparrazi, let us have our picket fence. 

    Dear Ex,

    No. He isn’t yours, I know hard to accept, but like debt… eventually you have to come to terms with it. Hey ex- yes, I’m sorry you settled for living together and sex, but I’m here to tell you, I was who came next… and although I’ve got your sloppy seconds, you don’t have our ever after. Moving on…


    Hey Baby Mamas,

    The ones he’s using, because he’s choosing to and because you allow it. Yea, he may call on you sometimes when he’s bored, or because you are dumb enough, but on a normal day, who is the one he’s kissing Good Morning and Goodnight, who is the one he is holding onto… tightly?

    I’m  sorry I’m not so sorry you opened up your legs for the lesser version of him. For the rest of him. For the him who could care less. I’m not so sorry you proved to be some kind of boiling hot mess. I’m not so sorry you decided you’d trade what you really wanted and needed in life just to trap somebody who didn’t want your *ss, but yes, I hate that; it’s a lesson in ache, and now how you feel, I’m sorry to say, is called hatred. Go on ahead and hate, while he takes care of me and mine and you look off into space. One day you’ll find someone and he’ll be half as much of the replacement, but at least you have that to hope for. Stop reading my blog and go on a damn date. That’s what you need to pray for.


    Hey Hoes,

    I really wish it were different between you two, really I truly do… but unfortunately that would be something to prove, a sight for boring eyes - look at you. Take care of yourself instead of being so busy being rude. I wish you well too. You know who you are. You’re the hoe who always calls when we lie down to go to sleep, the one in which I have to slide my leg over his leg and groan to him to make sure he’s turned off his phone, because, hoe, you will always call at the most inopportune times for no good reason at all… or show up with your lead magnet of some sort, what is your goal?

    Why are you still calling?

    What are you going to be then, sex?

    Or wishful thinking at best?

    Why are you still looking at us from afar?

    It’s what he does with his second-nature moments that matter.

    It’s about how we get up, and when we get up we get up together, I don’t care how many times we fall down.


    Hey Boo Thangs,

    Be glad you have those memories to haunt you awake at night. But do me a favor, alright?

    Better yourself for the right one.

    You were yesterday’s news headline. But please please and please remember however, as you climb the walls with your hate; unless you’re the protagonist of THIS situation, you don’t know how hard or how easy it is to sit in the big recliner

    …please give me my damn space.







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