My First Love…

My first love,
He was a millionaire,
These aren’t lies that I breath into the air,
You don’t believe me?
It’s true!
And he was white too!
The love that we shared was real and true.
Against all odd’s,
We found each other,
We were young,
But we loved one another.
The black girl,
From a council house,
With a young single mother,
Had unintentionally found someone quite opposite,
To be my lover.
We met in 2000,
The millennium.
Star crossed lovers,
From two very different houses,
Feeling all grown up,
In college now,
Ditched those school blouses,
A levels,
Studying English language,
Paying less attention to the teacher’s quotes,
Sending each other love notes,
We slowly progressed from notes to texts,
At that time,
It wasn’t all about the internet,
Then lovers,
It was official,
Two had become one,
We did,
Five years later,
Now adults,
Not teenagers,
we separated,
And spread our wings.
This boy,
This millionaire,
This millionaire white boy,
He loved me,
This girl,
This working class,
This working classed black girl,
I loved him.
Little did we realise,
How special this was,
Because it was so easy.
Now I get barely any attention,
And if I do,
It is so sleazy.
Most people peak at the end,
But I did at the start,
No one since,
Has truly had my heart,
But others have had his,
And so we remain apart.
Was irrelevant to us you see,
It wasn’t about colour,
Or money,
Our net worth,
Was our love,
That was our identity,
And yet no longer in contact,
I will always think of him fondly,
Because he accepted me,
All of me,
And loved me,
We needed nothing but each others company.
My first love,
Was just a boy,
And I was just a girl.

Please keep reading…

I do not comprehend or understand how for those of you that I know personally, those of you that I love, will complain about me not saying what is wrong or how I feel, why can’t you just come onto this site and read it in black and white.
You cannot say that this is not personal because anyone and everyone has access, it is personal because I have written what is going on with me. I have always been the note writer, in avoidance of conflict or confrontation, as a way to communicate my issues in a solitary environment as to not get overcome by questions and come backs which cloud my original thought.
I really find it hard to vocally articulate what is wrong, sensitivity often makes my interpretation of one’s response block all that I mean and have to say. My point gets lost.
This site may be in reach of the public, anyone and everyone. I welcome that! That is what I want, to reach out to those that feel alone, that can identify, that want to help others and their loved ones.If my loved ones think that I can vocalise half of the truths on here, they will have to wait an eternity. If my loved ones have access to my thoughts, trails and tribulations and choose not to check in, especially if I am unwell and in crisis, it saddens me that you would rather stay oblivious or expect me to just come out and say it, rather then ignore this because you don’t like reading! Gee thanks! Communication is important but you must remember that it comes in many ways, this is one of them!