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I was what you call a ride or die chick—the type of chick that would take the charge for her man. "Put your gun in my purse babe" I got you type of chick. Stuff my bra with your drugs type of shit. Some would say I'm a keeper, the others would say I'm dumb, but when you're in love you'll do anything for your other half.
I haven't seen him, touched him, talked to him, felt him nor kissed him in 18 months—ain't that some shit. I had just gotten out of jail for some shit he done and this motherfucker didn't even come see me once nor did he answer my calls—my Clyde right? This ungrateful piece of shit. I was a ride or die with a head on my shoulders; I had to leave school, work, and most importantly, my family behind. Was it worth? Nope, but I had to live it. To every action, there's a consequence.
Sitting in jail for 18 months, my life has been nothing but dangerous fights and sleepless nights, and let's not forget going days without eating. Sometimes forgetting I was even hungry—all just to have your back, a ride or die, Bonnie but no Clyde type shit. I was so in love that it blinded me to the poison you were feeding me.
Now I'm home wondering what the hell I'm still doing with you..
Oh so you know me now? After all those months, which bitch have you been fucking? Think I'm stupid, I know you were craving for a fix cause I sure in hell was thinking about your dick deep inside of me all these months—could I have got a fix, yes, but you refused to check for me. So tell me how was her pussy? Was it as good as mine? Going deep inside the bitch, forgetting that I'm in jail for your shit? Fucked up nigga but let me tell you this; a real man, my Clyde, wouldn't have left me to rot in a jail cell for 18 months without coming to see me or answering my calls. Nigga after I took this bid for you not even my family came to check me—they disowned me so the only family I had was you. But now the only family I know is me...
I shouldn't be taking this path again, but you're the only nigga my pussy wants. She's been crying for him, so I told him "please don't take your time, I need this shit to be over and done with." As hot tears roll down my cheeks, he stood in front of me and kissed me with his big beautiful lips. I moaned at the sensation of our lips meeting once again. However that sensation that once a upon a time use to be a beautiful one turned in to a dark and ugly one—once I began having flash backs of being in jail for his ungrateful punk ass.
His kisses pierced into my skin like the knives these bitches stabbed me with. Every spot he kissed began to burn, like the alcohol they poured on each wound. The scent of blood filled my nostrils, as it began to rain heavier from each wound, flowing down my body like a rapid river.
I'm in so much pain when I kiss him, that it has brought me back to the torture they put me through in jail. But with pleasure comes pain, so I guess I'm going to keep on kissing you.