All Good Things Come to Those who Wait
Monday, September 15, 2014
Infatuated
"You left." he said softly as he stood beside her car. "You left and never said another word."
She watched this man, this dark entity with whom she shared more soul with than anyone she had ever experienced in her life. It was an unnerving feeling; this loss of control she had.
This man, this person who took her for a ride into the stars where she thought she had finally found what she had always been seeking, left her in silence.
She walked away without a word for his reasons for the prolonged silence hurt.
They showed her that she was not even good enough to be second choice.
"We had a connection and I know I jacked it up. I am sorry for that. So much was going on..." he trailed off and stood there silent, eyes dark and brooding.
"Yes, I was infatuated with you; I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn't stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren't having any of those." her voice came out harsher than she intended but the pain that still flowed with in her, the way her heart fluttered when he was near made the anger surface.
He stood there silent and that is when she realized that this man really did not know what to do. He was so damaged and life hating that he had no clue.
The anger drained away, replaced momentarily by pity and then a wave of protectiveness came over her. The healer within her wanted to wipe away the pain that has twisted him into this doppelganger of a being.
She shook her head, opened her car door and tossed her bag inside.
"Wait.....I....." he stumbled over his words and then went silent again.
She turned to him, seeing his distress her empathy flared to life and in a moment she made her decision.
Both hands came up to settle against each cheek and she stared into his dark eyes. Those eyes that made her melt so long ago when they were filled with desire for her.
She could feel the tremors within his body and she took control.
Her lips found his and she kissed him deeply.
She was rewarded by a soft moan of relief and pleasure then his body was molded to hers. Arms snaking around her small form and he deepened the kiss.
She leaned back, breaking the kiss to look into bewildered brown eyes.
"We cannot start over but we can start from here." she said softly.
"Then here it is." He said softly and smiled. "Onward to something new that is good for both of us."
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Tell Your Story
*Quote by: Anne Lamott*
She sat in the coffee shop and stared at her laptop. The stories there were all filled with passion, love and pain. Her cursor hovered over the delete button for one of the stories she had typed out on wine fueled, tear filled evening.
Drama. That is what her writing was viewed as. She wrote to spill the emotions from her heart the only way she knew.
"I don't want to delete this." she whispered softly.
"Then don't" a woman's voice came from behind her.
She turned to see an old woman sitting at the small table behind her.
Dressed smartly in a dark blue business suit, practical brown heels, and her blonde hair coiled on her head. Within that blonde coif sat, at a jaunty angle, a red pillbox hat with a small gold feather.
She had to smile at that little touch of I am who I am touch.
"Don't delete writing that comes from your heart my dear"
"I have been told its drama." she said with a sigh. "Guess it is not what some people want to read. I have been called harsh with my words."
The woman took a drink from her cup, set it down and the stood gathering her purse with her.
"You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories.If people wanted you to write warmly of them then they should have behaved better."
The words hit her like an arrow of realization and she nodded.
"You are right. They are my stories and while they may not always be happy they have made me who I am." her chin lifted at that last word.
The suited woman inclined her head then tossed down a business card on top of the keyboard.
"Polish up your stories and then give me a call. I think we have business to discuss."
And with that she walked out of the coffee shop the gold feather in the red had swaying in the breeze.
She looked down at the card and gasped to see the woman was the head of a publishing company.
A grin spread on her face and she knew that her soul spilled forth was worth the pain.
She sat in the coffee shop and stared at her laptop. The stories there were all filled with passion, love and pain. Her cursor hovered over the delete button for one of the stories she had typed out on wine fueled, tear filled evening.
Drama. That is what her writing was viewed as. She wrote to spill the emotions from her heart the only way she knew.
"I don't want to delete this." she whispered softly.
"Then don't" a woman's voice came from behind her.
She turned to see an old woman sitting at the small table behind her.
Dressed smartly in a dark blue business suit, practical brown heels, and her blonde hair coiled on her head. Within that blonde coif sat, at a jaunty angle, a red pillbox hat with a small gold feather.
She had to smile at that little touch of I am who I am touch.
"Don't delete writing that comes from your heart my dear"
"I have been told its drama." she said with a sigh. "Guess it is not what some people want to read. I have been called harsh with my words."
The woman took a drink from her cup, set it down and the stood gathering her purse with her.
"You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories.If people wanted you to write warmly of them then they should have behaved better."
The words hit her like an arrow of realization and she nodded.
"You are right. They are my stories and while they may not always be happy they have made me who I am." her chin lifted at that last word.
The suited woman inclined her head then tossed down a business card on top of the keyboard.
"Polish up your stories and then give me a call. I think we have business to discuss."
And with that she walked out of the coffee shop the gold feather in the red had swaying in the breeze.
She looked down at the card and gasped to see the woman was the head of a publishing company.
A grin spread on her face and she knew that her soul spilled forth was worth the pain.
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