not to dout you but i know i have read this somewhere before.can you be kind and confirm this.im not kidding i have seen this very same stroy word for word in newyork about 12 years ago.all the same its beautiful.well done but yet its striking a memory of old.

She read Josephine’s letters and cried

She wanted a love like that

I guess the closest thing she could remember was the time one of her boyfriends wrote her a poem. It wasn’t very good and like most times with her men it was too late. They had already broken up.
In fact, she recalls the night he told her he was leaving. How those words like briers tugged at her skin. From her heart moving outward, slowly scraping at her and not stopping until it reached the tips of all her extremities.

So clear he was that night; so matter-of- fact and oh, so, damn arrogant. She hated him for lying to her though the lie was her realization that he was not leaving that day at that moment no, he had been gone for months.


We could have been lovers…Her and I

If not, for the timing of life getting in the way. We’ve spent most of the days we have known each other, either falling or healing but, always at separate stages and never with one-an-other. We have never discussed it, never acted upon it, though it does seem to lurk just below the surface with us. You can see it in the hugs that sometimes last longer than a friends` should. It is evident in the jealous glare of her latest auditioner. It shows up in the late night calls and the unannounced visits she is so famous for.

We double dated one time and spent the entire evening talking to each other. Sat next to each other at dinner and pretty much lost track of the two unlucky people we were supposed to be out with. It was sad for them yet, she and I often laugh about it, even now.

It’s kind of strange the way she never notices it, the way I look at her. The way I am always there for her. How I just seem to never have plans when she calls. How I take care of her when she is sick or as too often the case, the way I hold her hair when she has too much to drink.

I remember last winter; she stopped by one very cold night. I remember this night for two reasons, not because of the freezing temperature but, because when she walked through my door the crisp, cold, clean winter air didn’t really follow her in, it attached itself to her. It was like every follicle of her hair breathed in the freshness and held on to it only to discharge it slowly throughout the night. Like little time release scent capsules of awakening and affirmation. (To this day it still lingers in my mind) As I removed her coat and she walked away I just stood there and soaked it all in.

Secondly because, we sat on the couch, shared two bottles of wine and just talked all night. We watched a movie but, couldn’t tell you what it was. Somewhere between yawning and first light she fell asleep on me. And I do mean “on me” her head was on my chest, her elbow was digging into me and most of her weight was over my left leg. Cutting off the circulation and sending it into a slow and numbing sleep.

It was quite possibly the most uncomfortable night of my life but, I didn’t wake her. I managed to get the blanket over both of us and just enjoyed having her close. I must have run my fingers through her hair a thousand times (it was all I could do to keep from burring my face in it) the scent was still there and she looked so beautiful, peaceful.

At one point she raised her head, looked at me and simply smiled. That was when I knew I was not going to move a muscle the rest of the night or the rest of the next day for that matter.

I dosed off for a while and woke from the sun shining brightly through the room. She had moved her arm from trying to penetrate my ribs and had it under me. The other arm was resting across my chest with her hand on my shoulder. Mine? Well, one was hanging off of the couch and the other, in spite of me falling asleep never left her curls. Hell, I’m not sure I ever stopped passing my hand through them.

We’ve had many nights like this over the years. I have watched her search and toil, get used and use, I’ve held her when she’s cried, laughed at and with her, I miss her when she is away and I’ve rescued her several times. And through all of this I can tell you, she is amazing. Except for the fact that she can’t see she already has a love like that.


kc09

not to dout you but i know i have read this somewhere before.can you be kind and confirm this.im not kidding i have seen this very same stroy word for word in newyork about 12 years ago.all the same its beautiful.well done but yet its striking a memory of old.


Well well well ....

I see you STILL have not removed your head from that dark orifice in your body. You also have NOT learned how to spell properly or to use correct grammer. You also dont know how to quote references or give factual evidence for your accusations. I'd suggest that next time you point your crooked little finger at somebody like KC, you'd best know what the hell you're talking about. You've already made yourself look bad. And trust me, you never looked good to begin with.

Oh god. This is really beautiful. Well worded, simplistic, painting a visual of a memory we've all had at one more or another in our lives. I love this Kev. It's just gorgeous~