if you think we all play by the same rules,
you have never met her.

she is stunning.
she is moonlight,
and she is also both triumph and disaster.
she is a mess.
she is selfish and blunt;
almost to the point of being rude
and I put up with it,
we all do,
it’s a small price to pay.

when she’s around
there’s always a cost;
always something to be weighed.
and for some reason, it always lands
in my lap.

don’t get me wrong, I love her
and I have for years,
(I guess I keep hoping
that she will one day
learn there’s a difference
between bows and chains)
but that doesn’t stop her from waiting
for her Prince Valiant
to come riding into town and
sweep her away.



I left her at my place while I went to
pick up some more vodka
and to try and score some weed.
even though neither of smokes the stuff;
tonight she just had to have it.

when I got back she was sitting on the floor
with tears trickling down her face.
“what’s this?” she asked.
“what does it look like?” (it was all I could think to say.)
she had found my poems.
two notebooks full of them.
“I never knew you wrote.” she said.
“well...” now you would think after all these years
and the fact that, yes, I have read a few of them to her,
she would have known this. I mean it’s not that I have
hidden them from her, or anyone else,
I guess she just never took the time.
It reminds me of that movie when Lauren says to Bateman:
“know me, what does that mean?...nobody ever knows anyone else, ever!”
Lauren, you couldn’t be more right.

“oh my, some of these are so sad.” she remarked.
I was waiting for her to ask if any had to do with her
and she didn’t let me down.
“are all of these about me?”
“not all, no”
“this one is beautiful”…”I know you wrote it for me!”
“maybe, I’m not sure which one you are referring to.”
“I want them, the ones about or to me.” she demanded.
“we’ll talk about that in the morning.” I suggested.
then she asked me to make the drinks
and to roll her a joint, so she could keep reading.
all the while, she was also texting on her phone.

two hours later, a slight buzz going and bored to death,
I told her I was going to bed. she was stoned and after
drinking most of the bottle of vodka, pretty drunk,
but she wanted to finish reading the poems.

before going to my room I went into my office and
loaded the printer with a new ink cartridge
and as much paper as it can hold
and hit the print button.

I didn’t have enough time to get comfortable
and there she was,
standing at the bedroom door.
she did a little dance as she removed her clothing, then
leaped onto the bed.
her soft body covered me like warm down
and for the 536th time,
I made love to her.
though if you ask her
she’ll tell you without pause
and without considering even the
simplest mathematical likelihood of such a thing,
that all we did was have sex.

when it was over, at her weakest point,
as we lay there in our skein of
arms, legs and emotions,
just seconds from falling asleep,
she murmured, “I love you”.
I answered, “I know you do”,
then I drifted off to sleep
knowing It would be a couple of days
before I would see her again.

I woke to find a note next to me.
it explained to me that what she meant was,
she loved when I did that to her:
shaking my head, rolling my eyes
I walked down the hall.
the printer had finished hours ago, (I knew that)
so I went to the coffee table and picked up a freshly
used glass and the now empty bottle.
she of course was gone, so too was the pot
and as expected my notebooks were nowhere
to be seen.

she always gets what she needs from me
and I always get...

she Lauren?
in my case, this case,
you couldn’t be more wrong.


kc`11

You are an inspirational Writer kc.. Mwahhh..

An exchange. Wants and needs.
So simple of a task, within her mask.
Loving the times, and your rhymes.
Yet, running away.
In her special loving way.

Very nicely wrtten KC, and that in which we can't change.
Wanting her there but, We let our hearts slide past.
Hoping, wishing, that maybe next time,
she won't feel that need, to run away so fast.

thank you for taking the time to read and post!

thank you for always being there...

now we need to see more of your work little missy,
get busy.

thanks T...

Wow. Definitely dig it. Definitely find a dozen little ways to relate to this. There's a lot of emotion packed in here with a vibrant sort of detachment that's hard to really muster sometimes, but I can appreciate it and I appreciate you sharing. Cheers, several times over.

And that scene with Lauren gets me every damn time. Thought I should add.

Satan says...

"i like that"

Powerful, reminds me of a torturous kind of love. Perhaps through pain we feel more fully realized.

wonderful read

i had no doubt you know the scene and know from where this one is coming from.
thank you.

s1ow...

Pam...sometimes it's not easy to learn the lessons until we are taught over and over again.

thank you, you...

Wow my friend! You always have me at the first line. You know so well how to make the reader care about your character and how to have them invest in the journey.

I can't decide if the story is full of emotion or if it is the emotion that houses story.

Regardless of where it came from, regardless of interpretation.... This is beautifully evolving and evocative.

It was heartfelt...my first real..silly thought was,I would not have left*hugs*

Agonizingly good.....

thanks love. i suspect you know very well where it comes from and i cannot be more pleased to have "shared" this journey with you.