Harlem

Its was him.

Right there on 145th and Broadway. I've seen him once before but I was with my old joint who was my new joint at the time so I was in control… but this… this was different. He was walking with his new girlfriend… pushing a baby carriage. The baby looked at him lovingly… his girlfriend looked content. He looked miserable. But maybe that was my imagination. But you know what was real… this family I watched. This family that was created right under my nose. This family.

Lowkey, I was hoping that facts and investigations were rumors… and that he didn't have this child, or this girlfriend. That even though i don't want him back, and knew that I am a completely different person for this… that he was home… single…

But reality slapped the shit out of me as i sat in that car and watch them trot up a hill together. oddly enough I was fine…. the person in the car with me, not so much… she was in shock, then wanted to get out and fight them… the baby included. Then she got mad for 20 mins about how she glass Im a better person but she not and how she hates people doing bad things to good people…

Slap number two

I felt the tears well up. Not cause I was hurt by him but by myself. Should I have reacted? Should i have punched him in the face. Should I have fucked the baby up on principle? Was I letting him win?

I felt weak, and taken advantage of. I hadn't felt like that in a year. I felt out of control.

Then I got home. I got in the bed. The bed where i found text messages in his phone. The bed where he threw me down during our one and only physical altercation. The bed where the "love we made" made one night stands feel like intimacy in the last few months. The bed where I cried myself to sleep… almost every night… before we broke up

Then i realized… driving away was the best. Not because i didn't want to punch him, cause if i lord know i want to slap the black off of him and made him albino. But because, It wouldn't of made anything better, because it was better. I was happier. Not ecstatic, but content… Lord knows that leap from before. I could of beat all their asses and they would of went home… comforted each other, maybe slash my tires… and went. on. living.

I would not be the bitter bitch who acted up in the street because it wouldn't of changed anything. I wouldn't of felt better. Actually I hate scenes so i probably would of felt worse… So  drove way. Let them live their life and i live mine… not give him the opportunity to be a part of my recent space.

I drove away and left my past on 145th in Harlem