I tell B I love him every day. But I don’t know about the reception on the Rainbow Bridge. I tell V, “Later.” I tell him I’ll be back and that he’s staying. I rescued him. And they’re potential stepmom. What I said to her. Virgil’s B In Language
Tuesday, May 6, 2025
Meditation 309 ~Virgil’s B In Language~
Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? But as Snow Patrol sings, “Those three words are said too much. They’re not enough.”
How do I know? Despite how much my Old Man paid my way, I hate him. My firstborn son, Braxton, died. And I could say it to my secondborn son, Virgil. But I hate lying.
Always and forever, there’s you, my love. There is the family we created together. And you know me, a beast with a beat. “Havin’ my baby. What a lovely way of sayin’ how much you love me.” That’s all you because I highly doubt Braxton would send me such a song. If he were here today, his four little legs would run circles around his two-legged siblings to keep them safe. Virgil would be quieter than them, easy. Long story.
Love can be quiet or loud. It’s a difficult language.
And since I’m reminiscing about people, places, and even pieces of myself I hate. LEARN.
I’m constantly having to relearn how to love myself. Love, I am The Walking Dead. However, I’m not saying that because today is Sunday, May 4, 2025. So we both know, um, Tuesday, May 6, 2025, is going to suck. Oh, we’ll get to the sucking. Uh, ew. Uh, lovers.
Watch my mouth? Again, we’ll get to that. I say the most horrible things, and we’re not a religious household. But love, Jesus had it easy. If we skip the torture, he just died, love.
My Ma would say he died to save us. And I live? Not because I particularly care to do so. That’s my love language. STAYING.
Again, from a biblical context, Jesus came back. God is love. Dog is love, and my B III, “I said he doesn’t look a thing like Jesus,” as The Killers put it. However, “My Goddess.”
Um. Did we put the kids to bed four-legged, two-legged, and all? Okay, dearest love.
Purely in a Shakespearean meets The Pretty Reckless type of way, “You make me wanna die.” Hear me out, my love. My grief brings me closer to my son, B. Not really, but that’s what I’m going with. Being with you brings me closer in a way to dying. Seriously? Neither of us is Rihanna, but “Sex with Me,” sex with you, I tell myself, “I guess I die another day.” Virgil’s B In Language.
“I think I’ll find another way
There’s so much more to know
I guess I’ll die another day
It’s not my time to go
For every sin, I’ll have to pay
I’ve come to work, I’ve come to play
I think I’ll find another way
It’s not my time to go.”
Die Another Day
1556 Days Without B III, Day 997 of Virgil’s Arrival
B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will