Stop teasing me and be real
Do you mean what you say?
I wonder if he knows the exact
effect his words have on me?
Does he calculate the variables?
My mind was made up and now...
what do I do?
Take a leap of faith?
Over a chasm so wide, so deep
that it's even darker than my
dreams
on the rare occasion
I manage to sleep
There's a bright light
winking promises at me
across the way
his voice
deep with seduction
"Don't worry about tomorrow
I got this babe!"
My heart wants to follow
this piped piper's tune
but my mind weeps with fear
My soul is quiet, watching,
so
I try to live in the now
to focus on today
that's the closest to the future
that I dare to flirt with
He knows and teases
"We'll build the future
under your groundless feet
as you fly over distrust,
and leave it far behind
So please jump, my love
I promise, I'll catch you..."
I close my eyes,
hold my breathe
and
I take
a leap
of faith
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Possibly Until Tomorrow
He tells himself that he'll tell her tomorrow. He tries to look past his reflection in the store window and lose himself in the excitement of the games flashing on the HD screens. Its initial glossy allure fails to distract. His friends' voices fade into the distance. They're heading to the local sports bar. The guilt of yesterday cannot let him enjoy his Sunday afternoon. He's riveted by his image blasting into painful 3D. Blue eyes that are clouded with pain and insecurity stare accusingly back at him. A mouth so full of lies, open and close like a hooked fish. "Tomorrow, I swear it! I'll tell her!" His words are met with reflected self-contempt. Hands angrily bat away the air, stomping feet hurriedly chase after buddies oblivious to his procrastination.
She knows something is off. Not necessarily wrong, just "not quite right." Restlessly she gets up and looks out the hotel's bay window. The boats are bobbing up and down, lights are winking on as the sunsets, and brilliant colors soften into night. It's an hour until dinner. Her cerulean blue dress, his favorite on her, hangs patiently waiting for the appointed time. By the door, pointing the way out, a pair of sexy white heels. She smiles suddenly at her reflection. A well of hope blossoming its way into her heart and mind. He's been so secretive and moody, so up and down about this trip. The promise of, "This will be a trip to remember..." echo in the memories of her mind. This was their five year anniversary. Would he finally? Could he possibly move past it all? The petals fall away and hope gently slips away into hibernation. She feels helplessly in love, but quiet logic thinks, "If not today, then I will no longer waste my tomorrows."
Dinner is silent. He holds the menu like it’s some protective shield. The flame flickers, she can almost hear the air whisper, "Run!” It started normally enough. Then she asked how his guy's day out yesterday was? She knew his team had won. He didn't come home until about 2 p.m. and for a change, he wasn't worshipping the porcelain god. He noisily climbed into bed, bumping her on purpose. When she didn't respond. He stared at her instead. She faked sleep because she didn't want to start a fight. Not on the morning of their anniversary. Her determination to prevent a fight on one of their anniversaries forced her to bite her tongue. But she blew it. Her intuition was in over-drive. The truth must come out, one of them must give. The waiter came, took their order and the menus. He was forced to look at her. The anguish that overwhelmed his features made her want to reach out and tell him that it was okay. Ignoring her gut instinct, she waited for him to break.
"Baby, I'm sorry! I'm such a dumbass..." He looked at her apologetically. "I wanted this anniversary to be special. You've been my dream girl, but I f---ed it up, again!"
Her doe brown eyes blinked back tears. She knew it, he cheated and now he's confessing.
"Baby, I swore I'd tell you the truth tomor...today," he's voice was low with guilt and humiliation.
"God, you're so beautiful. I don't deserve you!"
"Damn straight!" She spitefully hissed. She begins to rise.
"No, wait." He drops to one knee. "Please, you're the love of my life. Please marry me."
Her mouth drops open in surprise. The restaurant freezes, watching.
"Baby, I'm sorry. I've been so stressed out about it. I forgot the ring at home. But please marry me anyway."
Her laughter rings out. Relief and hope spreading throughout her body. "Yes, you moron, I'll marry you!"
The restaurant patrons clap and cheer. He stands and pulls her in. They passionately kiss. She's smiles up at him. He whispers, "I swear, I got the ring and you'll have it when we fly home...as soon as we walk through that door." She kisses him into silence, wiggles her hips into his, "Don't worry, we'll find ways to make the time pass quickly." Congratulations and catcalls follow them out. Dinner forgotten...possibly until tomorrow.
She knows something is off. Not necessarily wrong, just "not quite right." Restlessly she gets up and looks out the hotel's bay window. The boats are bobbing up and down, lights are winking on as the sunsets, and brilliant colors soften into night. It's an hour until dinner. Her cerulean blue dress, his favorite on her, hangs patiently waiting for the appointed time. By the door, pointing the way out, a pair of sexy white heels. She smiles suddenly at her reflection. A well of hope blossoming its way into her heart and mind. He's been so secretive and moody, so up and down about this trip. The promise of, "This will be a trip to remember..." echo in the memories of her mind. This was their five year anniversary. Would he finally? Could he possibly move past it all? The petals fall away and hope gently slips away into hibernation. She feels helplessly in love, but quiet logic thinks, "If not today, then I will no longer waste my tomorrows."
Dinner is silent. He holds the menu like it’s some protective shield. The flame flickers, she can almost hear the air whisper, "Run!” It started normally enough. Then she asked how his guy's day out yesterday was? She knew his team had won. He didn't come home until about 2 p.m. and for a change, he wasn't worshipping the porcelain god. He noisily climbed into bed, bumping her on purpose. When she didn't respond. He stared at her instead. She faked sleep because she didn't want to start a fight. Not on the morning of their anniversary. Her determination to prevent a fight on one of their anniversaries forced her to bite her tongue. But she blew it. Her intuition was in over-drive. The truth must come out, one of them must give. The waiter came, took their order and the menus. He was forced to look at her. The anguish that overwhelmed his features made her want to reach out and tell him that it was okay. Ignoring her gut instinct, she waited for him to break.
"Baby, I'm sorry! I'm such a dumbass..." He looked at her apologetically. "I wanted this anniversary to be special. You've been my dream girl, but I f---ed it up, again!"
Her doe brown eyes blinked back tears. She knew it, he cheated and now he's confessing.
"Baby, I swore I'd tell you the truth tomor...today," he's voice was low with guilt and humiliation.
"God, you're so beautiful. I don't deserve you!"
"Damn straight!" She spitefully hissed. She begins to rise.
"No, wait." He drops to one knee. "Please, you're the love of my life. Please marry me."
Her mouth drops open in surprise. The restaurant freezes, watching.
"Baby, I'm sorry. I've been so stressed out about it. I forgot the ring at home. But please marry me anyway."
Her laughter rings out. Relief and hope spreading throughout her body. "Yes, you moron, I'll marry you!"
The restaurant patrons clap and cheer. He stands and pulls her in. They passionately kiss. She's smiles up at him. He whispers, "I swear, I got the ring and you'll have it when we fly home...as soon as we walk through that door." She kisses him into silence, wiggles her hips into his, "Don't worry, we'll find ways to make the time pass quickly." Congratulations and catcalls follow them out. Dinner forgotten...possibly until tomorrow.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
The Curious Case of the Brown Shoes
The laughter echoed down the alley
Tourists and locals turn their heads and smile
Innocent or Naughty
No one would venture down to find out
Yet imaginations run wild
The light, appreciative laugh of a female
the deeper rumble of a satisfied male
her teasing voice emerges
calling over her bare shoulder
her buttons are off by one
she bursts out into the sunlight
barefoot runs across the street
horns blare in protest
her long legs flash
wolfish whistles
women's jealous glares
Heavier steps, that don't sound quite right
"Ma Cherie..."
She's gone, he sighs and leans against the brick
Contemplates his bare toes, black socks
hanging from khahki pockets
He shrugs and walks back to the hotel
The next day
an imp finds brown shoes
facing the corner
and wonders
Tourists and locals turn their heads and smile
Innocent or Naughty
No one would venture down to find out
Yet imaginations run wild
The light, appreciative laugh of a female
the deeper rumble of a satisfied male
her teasing voice emerges
calling over her bare shoulder
her buttons are off by one
she bursts out into the sunlight
barefoot runs across the street
horns blare in protest
her long legs flash
wolfish whistles
women's jealous glares
Heavier steps, that don't sound quite right
"Ma Cherie..."
She's gone, he sighs and leans against the brick
Contemplates his bare toes, black socks
hanging from khahki pockets
He shrugs and walks back to the hotel
The next day
an imp finds brown shoes
facing the corner
and wonders
Que diable qui s'est passé ici?
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
6ft2 brown eyes
Big brown eyes
so high above me
look down
and deep into mine
fleeting intensity
hard to capture your stare
what are you afraid of?
We sit
you look every where but
at me
how should I take this?
Conversation goes well
Though maybe neither
one of us is ready
Attraction, a spark
hidden beneath
caution
He's so cute,
he'll never call again
That's okay
It's probably
better that way
so high above me
look down
and deep into mine
fleeting intensity
hard to capture your stare
what are you afraid of?
We sit
you look every where but
at me
how should I take this?
Conversation goes well
Though maybe neither
one of us is ready
Attraction, a spark
hidden beneath
caution
He's so cute,
he'll never call again
That's okay
It's probably
better that way
Another chance
It's a hurt that goes deep into the infinite depths of the soulIt only comes when I'm alone
gently, it expands its fingers around around my
unsuspecting heart
squeezing until my awareness turns inward
and sees the cracks that leak blood from a tormented love
the damage done that keeps me from
believing, yes, it's time to move on,
time to forget, time to forgive
I stare into brown eyes that have been burned
as bad as mine
I wonder if his thoughts wander the past, avoid the present
and fear the future
a fork in the road that cause feet to freeze
in indecision
I would be fine if the pain stayed in this dimension
leaving me be when I escape to dreamland
But it stalks me there, perhaps
because I let it
company of sorts in a vast universe
endless emotion, finite logic
His gaze holds mine, we both have a silent plea
"Let this be it, the right direction, please be the one..."
Torment rears its ugly head, egos scream in protest
Love's tendrils gently encompass
Hands clasp
May we both accept the chance we have been given
gently, it expands its fingers around around my
unsuspecting heart
squeezing until my awareness turns inward
and sees the cracks that leak blood from a tormented love
the damage done that keeps me from
believing, yes, it's time to move on,
time to forget, time to forgive
I stare into brown eyes that have been burned
as bad as mine
I wonder if his thoughts wander the past, avoid the present
and fear the future
a fork in the road that cause feet to freeze
in indecision
I would be fine if the pain stayed in this dimension
leaving me be when I escape to dreamland
But it stalks me there, perhaps
because I let it
company of sorts in a vast universe
endless emotion, finite logic
His gaze holds mine, we both have a silent plea
"Let this be it, the right direction, please be the one..."
Torment rears its ugly head, egos scream in protest
Love's tendrils gently encompass
Hands clasp
May we both accept the chance we have been given
Monday, November 7, 2011
In Love, In War, For Lust, Forwarned
"I'm tired," she whispers to the air. She sinks to the ground her misery filling the air with heart-wrenching sobs of a conflicted soul. Her boyfriend, of one month, telling her he won't propose. But please know that he loves her and can't live without her. However, he'll never chase after her. It's not worth the effort. Then suddenly her exes, both, asking her back. But only because they know she's with someone else and happy-ish. "What the hell?" She cries and crawls on the floor around to the other side, looking for tissues. "What the hell?"
When the phyical display of emotions finish, her mind considers insane possibilities. She could choose the past, but which one? The one she has the longest history with? Or the most recent with the most incredible sex ever? Both were abusive but familiar, so similar. There's a safety in the predictable. She could be financially secure again? But live with the constant need to be checked for STD's? The fear of the law breaking down the door? Or she could be in orgasm heaven and completely treated like a china doll goddess until she broke a rule? Her dark hair falls forward in vehement shaking. Or stay with the current that claims a future together. But whose trust issues seem to run deeper than hers? Or do they? Overall, it's so natural. Maybe it's just her and he's responding to her skittish vibes? Can she trust his "Let's go slow, baby...I'll wait for you as long as it takes...we can build a future together?" Ah, but his abrupt and painfully recent schizophrenic statement of "Baby, I can never marry you, but..."
"No!" she looks into the wall mirror. It indifferently reflecting swollen glassy eyes, blotchy skin, and a red runny nose. It makes her laugh. If they all saw her now, the choice would be easy. They would flee. No sign of a beautiful temptress here!
Her cell phone vibrates, more pleading texts from Brandon. Most of them saying, "Sugar-love, you owe it to us to try again. I'm sorry that I fell off the wagon. I'm sorry about Sheila ... Cindy... Karyn... Tanya... blah, blah, blah." Slowly she stands, walking over hateful love letters from her Latin lover, Raul. Those essentially accuse her of everything she caught him at. The biggest lie of all being that he's divorced. She found the papers, incomplete and unfiled. He's still married. That was the day her lust died. No more multiple o's for her. She sighs heavily. He still insists that she is his, "Mi Reyna." He swears that he will find it in his heart to forgive his Reyna for all her sins.
The land-line rings. Caller ID states that it's Josh. The answering machine kicks on. Her heart wars within her. Answer it? His deep voice comes on, "Baby, I'm sorry..."
She hisses, "Don't any of those bastards ever use my name?" She stalks out the bedroom door, grabs her keys. Be forwarned, the decision's made. She was going to f--- the first guy that actually uses her name...the whole night.
When the phyical display of emotions finish, her mind considers insane possibilities. She could choose the past, but which one? The one she has the longest history with? Or the most recent with the most incredible sex ever? Both were abusive but familiar, so similar. There's a safety in the predictable. She could be financially secure again? But live with the constant need to be checked for STD's? The fear of the law breaking down the door? Or she could be in orgasm heaven and completely treated like a china doll goddess until she broke a rule? Her dark hair falls forward in vehement shaking. Or stay with the current that claims a future together. But whose trust issues seem to run deeper than hers? Or do they? Overall, it's so natural. Maybe it's just her and he's responding to her skittish vibes? Can she trust his "Let's go slow, baby...I'll wait for you as long as it takes...we can build a future together?" Ah, but his abrupt and painfully recent schizophrenic statement of "Baby, I can never marry you, but..."
"No!" she looks into the wall mirror. It indifferently reflecting swollen glassy eyes, blotchy skin, and a red runny nose. It makes her laugh. If they all saw her now, the choice would be easy. They would flee. No sign of a beautiful temptress here!
Her cell phone vibrates, more pleading texts from Brandon. Most of them saying, "Sugar-love, you owe it to us to try again. I'm sorry that I fell off the wagon. I'm sorry about Sheila ... Cindy... Karyn... Tanya... blah, blah, blah." Slowly she stands, walking over hateful love letters from her Latin lover, Raul. Those essentially accuse her of everything she caught him at. The biggest lie of all being that he's divorced. She found the papers, incomplete and unfiled. He's still married. That was the day her lust died. No more multiple o's for her. She sighs heavily. He still insists that she is his, "Mi Reyna." He swears that he will find it in his heart to forgive his Reyna for all her sins.
The land-line rings. Caller ID states that it's Josh. The answering machine kicks on. Her heart wars within her. Answer it? His deep voice comes on, "Baby, I'm sorry..."
She hisses, "Don't any of those bastards ever use my name?" She stalks out the bedroom door, grabs her keys. Be forwarned, the decision's made. She was going to f--- the first guy that actually uses her name...the whole night.
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