What's Mine, What's Yours

by Nikki R. Holmes

Whew another workweek done, now itís time for some fun.  
I can hear my roommate and her man at it again. 
So loud they didnít hear me come home. 
Itís evident from the sounds coming from her room. 
Sometimes I wish she would keep the noise low, 
and stop yelling out everything heís doing to her blow by blow. 

 I got a man who can also make me scream. 
Tall, dark & handsome, the man of many women dreams. 
When we get together he got me doing tricks. 
So Iím not jealous not one bit, 
I know when Iím with my man I be doing the s**t. 
Down below heís not lacking my baby is blessed and fully packing. 

 Just looking at him gets me wet and bothered. 
It only takes a kiss to get things started. 
He knows exactly what to do, and how he makes me feel, 
down there eating like itís his last meal.  
I know I donít have to worry about him stepping, 
putting it down is what Iím repping. 
Thereís no reason for him to cheat 
all of his desires I fulfill and meet. 
I got all he needs right over this way 
the last thought on my mind is that he will stray. 

 We get down once, twice even three times a day. 
I keep it ready and tight just like my first time and our first night. 
Back then he struggled to get it in, 
feeling so good he came just under a minute. 
Hold up now he wasnít finished 
he was just getting started it was just the beginning. 
Pretty soon he had me strung out on him like it was a drug, 
that went  by the name of making love. 
He was definitely my natural high and not a day went by, 
when he didnít get it. 
All I know is that it was serious and I was truly addicted.

 I need to eat and drink what she does, 
that keeps her going for hours when sheís making love. 
I do not hate because later on tonight those will be the same sounds I make. 
My roommate gets hers thatís no lie. 
I donít always get to see the guys. 
I couldnít tell you who it is, 
and honestly itís not my biz. 

 She does her thing and I do mine. 
We respect each other so we donít cross that line. 
She trusts me around her man, like I trust her with mine. 
Iíve been with my boo for four years now long enough to not get it twisted, 
but always hoping in times of temptation heíll resist it. 
People ask why weíre not married but if it isnít broke then why fix it. 

Finally the noise they made ended. 
I was making my way back up the hall 
when my jaw dropped so far it almost hit the floor. 
It was her and my man walking out the door. 
I know this canít be right sheís not standing there with my baby, 
please tell me my eyes are deceiving me maybe. 
You could hear a pin drop and all around me time stopped. 

What happened to that respect and that line, 
when the hell did she confuse her man with mine?  
I stood there crazy thoughts flooding my mind. 
Why? How could they do this to me, and how many times. 
Here I was walking around in love thinking everything was cool, 
with them smiling in my face secretly playing me for a fool.

 I tried to speak and form some words but there was none, 
just a scene playing over and over in my head of me holding a gun. 
She was my best friend, my ace boom coom. 
So again why the hell did she and my man just walk out her room? 
I should have looked deeper and asked more questions, 
before claiming her as a friend. 
Because I didnít, my world came crashing in. 
No longer my roommate she damn sure ainít my friend. 
And my four-year relationship just came to an end. 

 Shut up & get out, stop standing there looking all shamed. 
If I start snapping now, I wonít be the blame. 
Please I donít want to hear it just cut the yip yapping, 
never in a million years never did I think this would happen. 
Donít you dare touch me I donít know you anymore. 
Both of you just get your sh** and walk right out the door. 
If youíre still standing here even for a minute, 
the next time you see me Iíll be the defendant.

What's Mine, What's Yours by Nikki R. Holmes

© Copyright 2006. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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