She'd always come running when I called.
It didn't matter what it was, she always came. At first, it was out of gratitude, I had taken her off the streets, gave her a home, food and clothes, but lately, I've been re-thinking my position. I couldn't be considered her guardian, for she was about the same age as me. She wasn't my lover, for our relationship rarely went beyond providing her with what she needed, while the rest of the time she rested, healing from her injuries. But I found myself, awake at night, asking myself when I'd be rewarded,...
Do you want to hear about it, she asked. The doors slid shut.
I couldn't say.
There was the first ding.
No, I said. Not really.
I want to tell you about it, she said.
The second ding.
She stood next to the panel. I leaned back against the opposite corner. No others at this time of night, in this elevator, in this place.
Fine, I said. Tell me about it.
It was warm. We in our winter coats, too warm, as far as we could get away from each other in our opposite corners of the elevator.
The third...
She didn't look at him. She didn't want to. The idea that he was pleading for her forgiveness didn't soften her heart. Rather, it was hardened by the fact that she had given everything to him and had given up everything for him only for him to betray her.
"Please look at me," He pleaded, "Look at me and know that I'm sorry."
"Looks can be decieving," She said harshly, "YOU taught me that!"
He fell at her feet and grabbed her hand, which she shook away violently. Only then did she look at him and he almost wished he...
They were trapped for seven days. Aleena tried to hold back the tears as it had been seven days since she had seen the wolf- warrior Felan being taken away by Balor. She felt that she had let everyone down: the people who had brought her up as their own. She wondered where they were; if they were still trapped in the cage that she had tried to rescue them from when she and Felan had been caught. She wished she could see them one more time, even if it was to say sorry for bringing them into this. They...
She could tell I was faking it. She can always tell when I'm faking it. Something about the way my eyelids droop slightly, the way I chew at my bottom lip before I talk.
"It looks lovely."
"It doesn't. You're lying." Somehow, she always knows.
"Okay, it doesn't. It's a hideous dress. But you do. You always look lovely."
"Creep." She smiles, and swats at me with the scarf she's about to wrap around her shoulders instead of a coat.
I love the way she looks when she gets ready. How she frowns at the mirror when she puts on...
I couldn't sleep with her next to me, he said. She was tossing and turning, not to mention I couldn't stop looking at her. Her blonde hair rolled up onto her head in a knot, my college t-shirt, and her Superman underwear- I just couldn't take my eyes off of her. She was beautiful.
In the morning when I was still looking at her she smiled wide, loving that I was already (well, still), awake. She kissed my forehead and slid closer.
"Dude, what are you doing, you said you didn't love her."
"I can't help it, the way she...
There wasn't much more he could say. At this point they had been arguing for hours and it had slowly spiraled in to complete silence, neither one willing to say the first word, to break the ice (again) so to speak. Both facing away from the other, arms crossed. Defiance. Why is it that sometimes adults can act like children? Children are masters of the silent treatment. Then again, children are just that - children. It means so much more when it's your partner refusing to talk. And you not wanting to 'lose' by talking first. That's all it is...
The open road was an open mouth. The dust rose in hissing strands. The sun berated us from every angle and the A/C was spewing out its soul. They called this Hell's Highway.
It was barren, filled only with the amber hues of fatigue and discomfort. We drove onward in silence, as if the merest hint of conversation would cause our cargo to spontaneously combust. I didn't have the energy to admire his golden curls, the arch of his nose, the romance of his mouth. His eyes were forward. They were always facing forward.
A carcass in the road caused...
He sighed. It was an all-too-frequent result. Women never noticed him (here he paused to chastise himself for thinking that without providing any statistical evidence, and to suggest to himself that perhaps he had an availability bias), and he was lonely.
Why shouldn't he be able to give and receive love, like every other member of the human race (here, he noted that it was unethical to assume that any individual deserves the respect or love of another without earning it, and that he should avoid thinking of a romantic partner as an object that one acquires)?
It just wasn't...
Blue open windows,
training wheels on the driveway,
Papa let me fly.
Afternoon bubbles,
wedding bells for fireflies,
the laughter echoes.
Saturday mornings,
the rain never goes away,
I'll always love you.