If you've read, Does God Have TOYS in Heaven by Karla Denise Baker then you won't be left in the dark as you engross in another tell-all memoir of why she's cried b'tween her legs. LUST... I Cried B'tween My Legs 'cause it was the only place a man would wipe away my tears. It was the only way a man would or could see me whimpering and comfort me. It was the only way a man felt me slobber out my pain all over myself and be willing to slobber with me behind closed doors. The only way he would be able to feel my fleshy folds air-dry from his thrusts as he was whipping me with his magical wand. I felt it was the only way he would acknowledge me as a person, a woman-and then his piece of sexy ass. It was the only way my unique-looking-self was put on a pedestal and pampered. Men. To them I was nothing more than a raggedy puppet dangling from a frayed string... deprived of love. LOVE... I Cried B'tween My Legs when my baby died. Oh Lord, I cried, and cried, and cried until my eyes were puffy barely able to see outside of myself. I cried day and night, night and day feeling mighty, mighty bad. Guilt hindered me. Held me down like grief many a days. I lay fetal with my mind dazed. Eyes crimson. Ears pleading to not hear the sound a child's voice, laughter, footsteps. I cried b'tween the legs that helped push him out into this world. I cried missing him, wanting him, needing him. I cried because as a mother my heart couldn't stand to let him go. LIFE LESSONS... I Cried B'tween My Legs when my baby sister was killed. Screamed with agony. Nails clawed at the hardwood floor like a wounded cat yearning to be cradled. Tears rushed down my face, nerves were shot, and legs gave way once, twice, no, three times until I lay helplessly sick. I cried reminiscing of our last talk, high-pitched hurtful words that left her in drunken tears. I cried full of sorrow and regret. I cried out of respect, necessity, loyalty, and love.