Sweet N Sour, Peace N Power

Ok.  Fine.  Yes.

Yes, when I look at your eyes I do see the ocean.

Your smile is like the sun.

When you speak I do hear music.

But, you know what?

If I can’t get what I’m asking for with you then I will acquire it somewhere else.  If being with you feels more like doing donuts at 60 mph fast in a small parking lot instead of just cruise control at 80, then I want no part of it.

Males realllllllllly underestimate the female species.  I’m telling you – we know our shit.  We know our shit, we know your shit, and we know the bullshit.

It is not a scientific fact that it takes just about 24 hours for us to get a glimpse into your habits, but it should be because I feel like as a group we’ve nailed it time and time again.  I could probably know what you’re about to do before you even know you’re about to do it.

No doubt, though, we are strong.  We surface all the elements. And we put up with a lot.  We are always down for whatever, as long you’re there too in every way.  By default, we know how to hold it the hell down.  Our words are powerful when we’re feeling passionate.  And they’re hell when we’re feeling hurt.  And they’re lusty when we’re feeling lovely.  They’re ice when we’re feeling cold.  They’re fire when we’re feeling hot.  We can build it up, tear it down.  Fill it up, drown it out.

We are women.

And it’s insulting when that light tries to get dimmed or what we’ve taken so long to build, our powerhouse, is attempted to get demolished by one of you freakin’ fools that don’t know how to climb.

Try us.

We’ll take on all your uncalled for and totally uncool decisions until we feel like ok, this is just not worth it.  And then we’ll put on our good luck trying to find another girl like me attitude.  We think it works every time.

I kinda feel like it does.

Take me on.

I’ll say something, ask a question, give a look (I mean, really, if looks could kill..), touch a place that I know will burn the back of your brain.  I’ll make sure you think of me again.  And I hope it stings.

What’s my sign, you ask?

A fucking Scorpio.

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