To My Future Wife: I Will Make You Proud To Have Me As Your Man

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I write this poem for you because I am lonely.
I write this at this moment because I don’t know who you are,
Or even the prospect of who you may be.
I write this because I need to give myself hope,
To write some words that I desperately need to get out of my system.

Each day I work on myself.
Not just to make myself and my life better,
Also to be better for you.

I work on myself so when the time comes,
I am able to catch your attention and interest,
I am able to impress you with who I am,
I am able to show you I am worthwhile,
I am able to make you proud to have me as your man.

Some days, I struggle and I lie in my bed.
Feeling sorry for myself,
Feeling angry and frustrated,
Feeling defeated, worthless, cheap, dumb, and gullible.

Yet there is this fire inside of me,
I know I can’t just lie there.
I have to continue on my trek to success.
I work hard to make the money to establish myself,
I work out to create a strong body for both your pleasure and protection.
I read in order to increase my wit, intelligence, and knowledge.
I write in order to keep myself sane and develop my true talent.

I want to be a good man.
I want to be good at being a man.
I want to be a good enough man for you.
All of this takes time.

You’re out there; I believe that.
I make you this promise:
No matter how many fake numbers and false starts,
No matter how many flakes, ditzes, sluts, and users I deal with,
No matter how emotionally beaten I become,
No matter how many disappointments or heartbreaks in the process;
I will find you.

When I do,
You’ll be glad to find out about me,
I am a man with the mental fortitude to endure all games,
I am a man with the drive to shrug off rejections with a smirk,
I am a man who is willing to put in the hard work to win you,
I am a man who doesn’t quit.

One day you’ll find this poem among my collections.
I wrote it not knowing who you are,
Yet knowing you exist.
In order to defeat cynicism and hopelessness,
To reignite that flame inside myself,
To move forward another day,
Take another step,
To becoming the man you’ll fall in love with.

~Raul Felix

Read: She May Have Given Up On You
Read: She Wouldn’t Make Me So Angry If She Didn’t Own My Heart
Read: 6 Ways Women Have Rejected Me

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A Few Maxims On Writing

Keep the ugly,
Find the beauty in the ordinary,
Find the ordinary in the extraordinary.

Write what you know,
Write what you don’t,
Make up the rest.

Take what an academic says with a grain a salt,
What a troll says with a smirk,
What a fan says graciously,
What a lover says as flattery,
What a best friend says with a shot of whiskey.

You’re not special,
Give it time.
No one is waiting for your genius,
Your genius is waiting on you to do the work.

Show up everyday,
Write something great,
Write something good,
Write something mediocre,
Write a ton of terrible pieces.

Struggle,
Hate yourself,
Feel like a failure.
Learn from those greater than you.
Struggle some more.

Lose all hope.

Show up everyday,
Write a ton of terrible pieces.
Write something mediocre,
Write something good,
Write something great.

Feel great.

Check your spelling and grammar.
Be scared to share your work.
Do it any way.

Know the rules,
Fuck the rules.

~Raul Felix

Read: Keep Moving Young Man
Read: How To Find The Greatness Within You
Read: The Witch In My Dream

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How Much More Do I Need To Bleed?

They say that it’s easy to write,
That all you have to do is bleed on the page.
After feeling the blade of that knife so many times,
One begins to wonder…

How much more do I need to bleed?
Until my fucking soul can be at ease?
Until all those fucking thoughts in my mind are laid to rest?
Until I can at last be fucking content?

Each time cutting yourself,
Reliving memories, events, conversations,
Long since forgotten by others.
Picking apart, dissecting, and analyzing,
In search of that moment of raw humanity.

Eventually the blood stops flowing,
The cut scabs over.
Yet, the soul grows restless,
Needing to expose more of itself to the world.

The bleeding becomes addicting,
The emotional pain becomes a validation of your worthiness as an
Artist.
A benchmark which you judge yourself by,
To see if you truly pushed yourself.

The words are bouncing around in your head,
But it needs your blood to come to fruition.
You cut yourself open once again,
Bleeding out slowly.
As you are reminded of how painful it is,
You begin to wonder…
How much more do I need to bleed?

~Raul Felix

Read: What It Is To Write
Read: She Was Traveling Through My Country
Read: Why Should I Write About Her

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I Miss Those Saturday Nights

I miss those Saturday nights,
Where we would lie in bed,
Laziness consuming us.
Yet, we had planned an exciting night out.

“We’ll start getting ready in five minutes,” I say.
“OK,” you respond as you press your nose into my chest.

Fifteen minutes pass.
We’re still wrapped up in each other’s arms.
“Alright, we’re getting up now,” I declare.
A few seconds pass… then I sit up.
You follow.

You get up from the bed and slowly put on a skirt.
Then I reach for your arm and pull you on top of me.
“I thought we were getting ready,” you say.
“We are…,” I say as I feel up your body.

We would be back where we were before,
In each other’s embrace.
Maybe next Saturday night.

~Raul Felix

Read: Empty Chair
Read: For This One Day, She Made Me Forget
Read: Becoming A Beast May Help You Win The Beauty

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Shards Of Broken Glass Scattered On The Kitchen Floor

“See how pretty this bottle is?” she said holding a beer bottle.
She then slams it on the kitchen floor.
Glass shards scatter. She walks to the dining room and sits down.
“That bottle will never be as it was, no matter what you do. It will cut you.”

“This hot one moment, cold the next bull shit you put me through,” I ask “It’s going to be an on going thing isn’t it?”

She nods. “I will never be who I was. I’m as broken into little bits as that bottle. I’m beautiful but I will cut you, again and again.” She sits with her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around.

“Fuck,” I lay on the floor. Alternating my eyes between her and the glass. “I will want to love and hold you. Your coldness and emotional withdraws will eat me alive. I can’t… I won’t put myself through that.”

Silence consumes the room for a while.
“What does this mean for us?” I ask.
“It means you’re free,” She replies.
“I always was. But, I’m fucking here tonight.”

“Can I kiss you?” I ask.
“Yes,” she replies.

~Raul Felix

Read: She Had The Body Of A Greek Goddess
Read: Watching You Get Dressed Again

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The Lights of Los Angeles Loom

My seventy-five Camaro is speeding along at eighty-five on the one o’ one.
I keep my eyes on the freeway, occasionally looking toward the passenger seat.
My left hand on the steering wheel,
My right hand rubbing the pussy of a bald headed, beautifully tattooed, big breasted vixen.
I look to my right,
The lights of Los Angeles loom.

I hear her purr as I’m working her up,
She begins to thrash a bit, causing me to slip out my lane by a foot.
Her purr becomes a moan.
She pulls my hand, sticks my fingers in her mouth, tasting herself.
I look to my right,
The lights of Los Angeles loom.

It’s as if I am a dashing hero in a movie,
This would be where I would narrate my thoughts,
Music from an elite orchestra filling the air,
A warm California breeze tossing my glorious hair about.
Maybe an epiphany of some sorts will hit me,
As I feel her warm, wet femininity with my fingers.
Maybe this is just another night in my life,
With no revelations or grand lessons,
Just enjoying the touch of a gorgeous woman,
As the lights of Los Angeles loom.

~Raul Felix

Read: She Was Travelling Through My Country
Read: Keep Moving, Young Man

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The She Serpent Wrapped Herself Around The Young Man

The She Serpent wrapped herself around the young man.
He had looked into her eyes, mesmerized by its beauty.
With a quick strike to the neck,
Venom began to flow through his veins.
It was painless. In fact, it was pleasurable.
He was none the wiser that his life blood had been tainted.
Mesmerized by those piercing eyes.

The She Serpent wrapped herself around the young man, tighter.
She hissed an enchanting hiss,
Its rhythm sparking grandeur illusions in his mind.
*Hiss* Yes, baby. *Hissssss* Of course, my love.
*Hiss* Anything you want, sweet heart. *Hissssss* Anything.
Enchanted by that gentle, rhythmic hiss.

The She Serpent wrapped herself around the young man, tighter.
The young man began to falter, losing feeling in his limbs.
*Hiss* Help me, baby. *Hissssss* But I love you!
His blood corrupted, bones breaking, lungs failing.
*Hiss* Show mercy, baby. *Hissssss* Fuck you.

The She Serpent unwrapped herself from the young man.
He lay there lifeless.
She analyzed him with those mesmerizing eyes,
Hissed with that rhythmic tongue,
Opened wide, ate him whole.
He was no more.
The She Serpent will be hungry again.

~Raul Felix

Read: She Was Traveling Through My Country
Read: For This One Day, She Made Me Forget

Read more of my work at Thought Catalog
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The Witch In My Dream

I awoke from a dream.
It was one of those dreams that was so real that I genuinely believed it happened for a few moments.
I tried and failed to fall back asleep, hoping my mind would go back to where it left off.
My heart was pounding furiously, I laid in my bed staring into the darkness,
Making sense of the little dream fragments seared into my mind.

I chased after her, dashing as fast as I could.
Like a witch, she would vanish as I reached to grasp her.
I could hear her laugh, enticing and mocking me.
Then, she would appear, just out of arms reach.
I pounced, she vanished yet again, and I landed on my face.

“Do better,” I hear her voice echo, “Are you worthy?”
I wait in an athletic stance, keeping my head on a swivel.
She appeared.
I leaped with full force.
I wrapped my arms around her, as we fell, I turned her body towards the sky, so she would land on me and be safe.
“Do you truly feel you’ve earned me?” she whispers.
I move in to kiss her and I wake alone in my bed.

~Raul Felix

Also check out: Keep Moving, Young Man and Watching You Get Dressed Again

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She Had The Body Of A Greek Goddess

I slide my fingers up her thigh, to her ass, and up her spine.
She’s naked in the fetal position, dozing off.
Pale and smooth, not a hair on her body.
She’s tired. Life has tuckered her out.
I pull her up to my chest, her snore a faint hint in my ear.

She reminds me of a statue, how serene she is.
Those ones you find in those fine art museums,
Each sculptor’s interpretation of their feminine ideal,
Of a Greek Goddess.

My fingers run through her red hair gently, then toward her spine.
Up, down, side to side, in a circle. Repeat.
I think deeply as my fingers run through her physique.
Those statues weren’t an imaginary ideal,
Women like this inspired those statues.

~Raul Felix

Also check out: For This One Day, She Made Me Forget and The Woman Who Taught Me I Was Good For Everything But Loving

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She May Have Given Up On You

You lie on your bed with your face buried into the pillow.
Churning over the events that led to the demise of your latest tryst.
Another one lost, another flake, another you thought would be different.
Another girl masquerading as a woman.

You don’t feel attractive, you don’t feel worthwhile, you don’t feel missed or longed for.
You work up the energy to look out the window of your downtown apartment.
You see a scrawny, low-life holding hands with a fine ass bitch.
“Why do I even bother trying to be a good man?” You wonder.

You walk to the fridge and take a peek inside.
Empty of food with a few beers left over from a previous night of boozing.
You consider drinking them all then heading out to the bar.
You close the door without a drink in hand.

You walk to your laptop and put on some motivational music.
You change into your workout clothes.
“Fuck her,” You say out loud. “Fuck her!”
She may have given up on you, but you won’t give up on yourself.
You tie the laces of your sneakers and head out the door.

~Raul Felix

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