Can I Share My Opinions Please?

     We speak from time to time, but maybe we shouldn't.....      It's clear that she loves me, or at least cares for me very deeply. She says she loves me at least, but I can never tell if women are telling me the truth. Maybe it's the trust issues, I've always had a lot of those. Trust issues, love issues, lust issues, all the same. Why should she love me? What have I ever done for her? How is her life better with me around? I personally would think that her life is better without me. But she insists to have me around. And I.... I would never have it any other way.      We walked blind, side by side during the early years. I was once told, years later, by an unnamed source, that she and I were so perfect for each other. We were meant to be. If only we could see what she could see. She has always confided in me. She's held me in high regards, even if I tell her she shouldn't. I tell her that I'm no better than those other guys in her life, and explain t

     Love didn't always exist here.      There was once a time when it was simply desired, wished for, craved. Sure, the love of one's family has always existed, but not the love that we all dream of. The dream of finding the one, dating, holding hands, kissing, hugging, fu....well, you get the drift. The dream of that love was there, but the reality of it? Non-existent. The heart was a battlefield, filled with enemy fire, but begging for peace and happiness. What do you do when you crave that love, that feeling of acceptance, that hope of one's company and never receive it? Well, you shut down. You shut off the source of the pain. Things become dark. You become..... the villain.      The heart, this heart, his heart, the heart we speak of here is filled with bullet wounds. He could have collaborated with Wyclef Jean for the song, "911," because he had been shot down more often than not, and the bullets, were indeed, directly in the heart. Maybe that's the p

     Remember back when writing letters was cool? I remember back in middle and high school when I'd get that nice little letter from a special lady, the excitement I felt would be incredible. I use to like when they'd spray their perfume on it too before they gave it to you, or in some cases, sent it in the mail. What happened to that feeling? Has technology killed the passionate love letters? If someone took the time to write a letter to you, how would you feel about it? Excitement? Disappointment? Surprise? I feel like it means more to sit down and write those words and feelings out, but then again, I'm a writer, so I may be slightly biased. It's currently 12:40 a.m. And I wanted to bring back that feeling.       Dear You,   Whoever you are, it sucks to only see you from afar. It sucks to me to not be able to be exactly where you are. It sucks to me to hide the behind letters, emails, text messages and bars. By bars, of course I mean the lyrics to my music

     What if I told you, some times, I wish I could cry and release some of the hurt and frustration that I have been holding on to for 29 years? What if I told you that I am not proud of the individual I've become over the past year and a half, and often sit in disgust of myself and wonder what happened to me? What if I told you I want the old Raf back, but don't know how to properly kill off the new Raf in order to revert back to the past? What if I sat with you and explained that sometimes, I speak of my pain and frustrations through cryptic texts, comments, posts on social media and discussions, but nobody can properly decipher the context of said cryptic comments?      What if I told you that the smile I put on and show to you all, is a front hiding the truth, but you would never be able to tell because I rarely show true emotion? What if I told you that I'm lost in the world and don't truly know the direction in which I should go? What if I told you that your com