Your Voice Can Abort A Baby Elephant, But I Still Love You Rhianna!!!

Oh boy, we all know how embarrassing these things can get. I’m just trying to find the right combination of words without being pushy, and this is very delicate. I don’t possess the talent even to pretend I’m a light-skinned, Drake/ El Debarge hybrid whose soft vocal inflections simultaneously drops panties while opening the text app on your phone so I could see all these niggas you’re texting, so I’m not even going ot try. No. I’m a different kind of man. I’m the kind of person that will look you in the eye, grab my prescription Ray-Ban sunglasses that I wear whenever I’m at the reflection angle of your forehead, and say “Yes, your voice does sound like someone distilled the physical and existential injustices of an extrajudicial prison like Guantanamo Bay onto a hot beat…but I still love you.”

We can parse through all the irrelevant minutia that details how the last song you penned was an even bigger affront to human decency than the self-published Amazon Ebook: Mein Kampf Part II: Mein Struggle, but that’s for later. Because you and I both know that while you are worth every second the world has to offer, your time is precious and should be recognized as such. Like a butterfly, Because there’s beauty in the ephemeral. Or like a white dog poop left on a freshly cut lawn in the middle of the summer as the zip, zip, zip of the sprinkler works it’s way over it. You know, because “We Found Love” is chalked white dog shit. But I won’t hold these testaments of moral bankruptcy against you. No, not you. Partly because of your story that speaks to inspiration like the blade of the grass speaks toward the sun. Though not like your voice which speaks to getting the runs while in standstill traffic like me screaming at a god that does not exist for I-85 being so, so shitty.

What I think we should do -and you’re going to love this- is rearrange our busy schedules (yes, BOTH of OUR EQUALLY BUSY schedules) to spend some time together. Just getting to know one another again. You, getting to know a man that counts you amongst the pantheon of goddesses that has ever graced any myth of every culture. And me, getting to once again know a woman whose melodic stylings can summon the crappy CGI looking specters as seen in Ghost when that white dude was dragged to hell.( or the next alley to get molested. Yeah, they left that last part really ambiguous.) We can once again find the love that encouraged you to write that thesis of madness you called a song and reconnect like Bluetooth, girl.

You don’t have to believe me with just words alone. That’s why I intend to show my thoughts and feeling through a series of actions that will undoubtedly bring us closer together again. Either that or until I die of ear aids which I didn’t know was a thing until I heard ANTi. So thanks for that.

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