Five Minutes Alone

She just wanted five minutes alone with him. But it seemed that jealousy would never allow that to happen. She was scrutinized, watched constantly, and interjection was often made if she and the One ever enjoyed each other’s company too much.

Ridicule, criticism, and flat out threats were made in front of him and anyone else around, to the point where she was nearly ready to just give up. Something about the way he would hold her gaze, smile knowingly, and keep including her in things, would not allow her to move on just yet.

Shortly after the ride, the distraction became nothing more than a bad memory. Despite the fact that she knew he wasn’t the real thing, he’d behaved like the dog he was and managed to steal a few tears from her. She moved on quickly though, moved out of her friends’ place, and got a cute little studio on the other side of the city.

She visited them often. They were still her friends, and she did love them all. And as luck would have it, he would manage to be there when she was. She saw him less frequently than when she lived with everyone, but the upside was they weren’t watching her as closely; they weren’t attempting to make her look foolish anymore. And she felt that desire, that hunger and thirst, that she believed only he could quench, return. If only she could make it happen…

The five minutes turned into nearly an hour one sunny, April day. The girls in the apartment were smoking, a habit she had given up when she moved into her own place a few weeks before. As terrible as it was, it was still a bit tempting so she went outside. She was standing at the top of the stairs, breathing deeply the fresh, spring air, when the door opened and he joined her outside. He nonchalantly posted up on the opposite railing, expressing how much he hated smoking.

“Why do you think I left? Quitting is hard enough without being around other smokers,” she stated, looking him square in the face, daring him to make eye contact.

“It’s a nasty ass habit, and you never should have taken it up in the first place.” He finally made eye contact and said, “Girl, you know better than that.”

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his, and she couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear.

We’re alone. Finally.

He doesn’t admit to this often, but he is an exceptionally handsome man. His eyes are wide, intense, two shades lighter, yet still richer than milk chocolate. His smile can drop panties, she calls it a PDS, and it’s sexy as fuck. The freckles on his face dance across his caramel colored skin, and beckon her to kiss each one. His frame and stature are manly and formidable, she feels completely safe in his presence. She had never been more attracted to anyone in her life, then or since.

He switched sides at the top of the stairs so he could stand next to her while they talked. His elbow kept bumping hers as they leaned on the railing, looking out at nothing in particular, sharing what they wanted out of life, and how they saw their futures. He told her how everything he did, he did to provide for his. He didn’t have to try to be a good man, he already was one.

In a city where you grow up quicker than most, he knew that being a man was much more than being able to make babies. He knew it meant raising them, loving them, and caring for them with whatever means one possessed. He had the determination, the perseverance, and the strength to do all that was necessary and more.

She listened to him more than she actually spoke. He was astonishing. Exceptional. She didn’t know why he was opening up to her, but she cherished that moment to this very day. He let her in. He let her see the real him, not the tough, hardcore exterior, but a part of his heart that was vulnerable and authentic. And he didn’t even try to kiss her before they went back inside.

The Ride

There was no question as to the attraction. It was mutually immediate. One look into his intense, chocolate eyes, and she knew he wished, as she did, he had met her first.

He was not wholly committed to anyone else, but neither was he entirely free. And so, together, they played a long and dangerous game. One they could not possibly know then would last half a lifetime.

The tension and chemistry between them was palpable. And they weren’t the only ones who felt it. In fact, it irritated some of the others. They considered it a betrayal and an affront for her to set her sights on him, all things considered. But she reasoned in her mind, that there were no vows here, no covenants, not even a promise between parties, and so she continued to let herself speak and laugh freely with him, no matter who was around. After all, she didn’t know it then, but he was the One. He made little secret of his attraction, but out of respect for the situation, they both attempted to keep it friendly, and nothing more.

She continued seeing the man she had been seeing, knowing full well he would never be anything more than a distraction. While the One continued to be a doting and loving father to his kids. He was watching her carefully, though. Learning her moods and ways. He remained vigilant and observant; always discerning what she was thinking without her saying a word.

One night, after the distraction had stood her up, yet again, she decided not to join in the usual routine of card games and drinking, but excused herself to her room, claiming tiredness. Intrigued, he watched her go, then asked her friends what was really wrong. They told him she had been stood up again, so he made it his mission to cheer her up. She wasn’t in her room five minutes before he poked his head in and asked if she felt going for a ride. Had anyone else asked her that night, she would have politely declined, but the smile on his face and the mischievous glint in his eye, had her instantly smiling and on her feet.

They headed out, with her friend of course, for everyone knew they could not be trusted alone, to his big muscle car and hit the streets. He drove like a madman, daring and far too fast, though somehow maintaining control, while music boomed through the speakers. And like a child on a fast moving ride, she held on for dear life, laughing hysterically, sliding and bumping all over the backseat. He sped up and down the hills and spun donuts in parking lots. It was exhilarating the way his driving made her come alive, more than the driving; it was him. He turned her on, there was no denying it.

She watched as his hands gripped the wheel, turning it, spinning it, gliding along the leather. She wanted those hands to slide across her body, over her breasts, and up her thighs. She breathlessly hungered for his touch. She could almost taste the overwhelming desire. She caught him looking at her more than once in the rear view mirror. She could see he was enjoying it as much as she was. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips curling into a sly grin, and she let herself imagine what it would be like to kiss him.

That night was the night she knew for sure she would have him, somehow, some way. And he knew it too.

More of the Same…

Every night it’s the same,
I lie awake unable to close my eyes,
Except to gather my tears and push them down the trails on my face.

Every night it’s the same,
I remember the things you said,
The way you looked at me, the way you touched me, the way you loved me.

Every night it’s the same,
I hope I will awaken to your call;
I will hear your voice again, and you will tell me everything is going to be okay.

Every night it’s the same,
I pray for the strength to let you go,
Gracefully, compassionately, reminding myself: I asked for this.

Every night it’s the same,
I miss you like an addict, trembling,
Longing for one more look, one more word, one more hit of you.

Every night it’s the same,
I die a little bit with every slumber;
There are only so many beats in a heart, and you have them all, you are my heart.

Breathe, Baby Girl

You reminded me to breathe,
Full and deep.
I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath,
But you knew.
And you’d say,
“Baby Girl, I need you to breathe.”

Loving you and being loved by you,
Was breathtaking in every way.

I lie here, gasping for air.
You forgot to remind me;
You don’t need me to breathe anymore.
I’m suffocating,
I’m drowning,
You took my breath away.

Image of Skylar Grey, I Need a Doctor

No More

I can no longer bear the weight of this broken heart;
This obstinate mistress, who insists upon loving you.
Fast or slow, your name was the rhythm she beat,
And there was love and passion and fire unfathomable…
You were the lifeblood she drank.


Now you are gone, she is barely able to drum up an existence.
Her pulse is an erratic and desperate murmur.
She churns and burns and soaks my pillow in torrential tears
And infinite torment, until she decides to beat no more…
May that day come swiftly.

A Story to Tell

A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things:
Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished:
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.





I will go back and tell the story of this love affair. I will flesh it out and share the endless pages written for you, about you, and to you, with this big, wide world. I will write of the pain and the heartache, as well as the times love felt more luminous than moonlight, more golden than the sun, and richer than the earth beneath our feet.


Love so big and eternal, it seemed as though it would reach well beyond infinity. I will tell of believing in a soulmate for the first time ever, and having no doubt two people could actually be made for each other. How perfectly two people understood each other, appreciated each other’s differences and sameness, and how the sex was like a hand in a custom-made glove. I will tell this love story in the weeks ahead, but before I do, I will spoil the ending.


I will tell you now that there will come a moment when the air is stolen from the lungs, the heart is ripped from the chest, the soul is strangled, mangled, and left to wither, my legs were knocked out from underneath me, and now I am nothing more than a heap of bone and flesh in a puddle of salt water tears and devastation.


I will spoil the ending because I don’t want anyone to go into this story with the hope that it will have a happy ending. I don’t want to mislead anyone. It is not a love story, or a romantic comedy, though all those moments happened. It is an epic tragedy. A soul crushing experience, that will either make you laugh or cry at the absurdity of the players who thought they could act out this fantasy and make it last forever.


So while you may know how this love story ends, it is just the beginning of the tale…


Image by inthelaurels on Deviant Art