To the Women
When you read this book, I want you to know that this world is a dangerous place on its own, and it is even more dangerous when you have to let strangers in. I wrote this book as a precautionary measure. For some women, it could be just a different way of looking at a particular subject, but for other women, this book could be a way for you to change your life. The possibilities are endless, but are also, ultimately, up to you. The only thing that I can say is this: I need you to ask yourself where you were before you opened this book. Then I need you to figure out where you want to be. Then see how this book can be used to get you there.
In a perfect world, I would want to believe that you can meet somebody and commit to them and not have to worry about anything else, because everybody in the world would be good, and everybody in the world would have your best interests at heart. But everybody knows that everybody in the world isn’t like that.
Unfortunately, while some women are pretty decent judges of character, some women don’t see the train coming until it hits them.
I wrote this book for you, specifically you, about this one specific topic. I just hope you appreciate it and enjoy it as much as I did.
Read it slow. Plant the seed. Let it grow.
Sincerely,
Michael E. Reid
Yesterday
I met a woman
On a bridge.
On a ledge.
On the edge.
Of love and light.
Of day and night.
Of life.
And I asked her for advice.
And she said:
Some will hurt you a lot.
Some will hurt you a little.
Some will hurt you on the outside.
Some will hurt you in the middle.
But you will heal.
Some will waste your money.
Others, your time.
The worst: both.
But at the end of the rope,
there’s hope.
So, you’ll be fine.
You must.
Or you’ll bust.
And from the tears in her eyes,
I knew.
She was finished.
She jumped.
Died falling.
Died from falling.
The irony is appalling.
A life story that could never
be worth applauding.
Or could it?
Maybe, if I told her story.
Gave her death some glory.
Then maybe God will see her
as a martyr and have mercy.
She’ll show up at the gates, soaking wet.
Covered in water and regret.
And when he asks her why she jumped,
She’ll tell him she was thirsty.
And they will laugh.
And he will forgive her for her sin.
And let her in.
Because her only flaw was loving hard.
Wanted rock. Wound up sinking.
No preserver.
Death certificate says suicide.
I call it
murder.
And he’ll get away with it.
But this isn’t a reality show.
Because sometimes
When you’re in love,
The reality goes.
And you’re standing there.
In a bunch of feelings you didn’t even
know you had,
And part of you
is going to want to yell, “Dad.”
But you can’t because you’re grown.
And you should never
have brought him home
In the first place.
I know it hurts,
But it’s taking longer to heal
than it should have.
Think about the kind of man you could have.
If it was supposed to work, it would have.
Disappointment is certain.
Healing is on purpose.
So,
