"He loves me,"
"He loves me,"
"He loves me,"
"He loves me,"
"He loves me,"
She giggled as he reached over and pulled the last petal off himself.
"Yes, I love you," he murmured against her lips. "Irrevocably, undeniably so."
The petals lay forgotten as she responded in the only way that could possibly suffice.

She embraced him, breathing him in, only to let go and step back, confused. There was a strangeness to his scent, an alien presence. He smelled faintly of musk, sandalwood and the sweat of her skin. Still unsure, testing, she leaned forward and kissed his shoulder, but all she could taste was his unmitigated betrayal.

The day he asked her to be his, she started a journal. Everyday, religiously, she wrote one reason why she loved him. It was meant to be a present for him, at some point. Maybe a birthday, or an anniversary. She never imagined that she would need it. To remind her why she should stay.

874 miles, 728 days and 12 inches. That was a lot to be separated by, she mused, considering that she'd never felt closer to anyone. Ever.
She was startled out of her reverie as he casually swung her into his lap. Distance be damned, she grinned to herself as she leaned forward to kiss him.

He expressed disdain at the red tint of her nails and so she never used that color again. She got his bedroom walls painted that exact shade of red the day she walked out on him. All the girls that he brought home loved it. He wondered if a thank you note would be appropriate.

She ran a finger up his arm, smiling at the trail of goosebumps that followed. He mirrored her smile as he shifted in his sleep. Settling herself into his arms, she giggled as he unconsciously pulled her back into him. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of lovers that called back.

Flirtations. Distractions. Stolen glances over solids. Solids and stripes. He never let her win. She returned the favor. Three to one. One to one.
In the end, they both lost.

Maybe I should have let him win, she'd think with a sigh.

Maybe I shouldn't have sank the eight right then, he would muse later.

Moving On

Today, in the midst of sheer happiness, she thought of him. And she paused. Mid-laugh. And she thought of him. And of them. And the "them" that they used to be. And she wondered what she had been thinking then. Or whether she had even been thinking at all. And then she laughed again.

Something like fate

she woke up sweating, curled tight around herself. she thought she heard him call her name. she felt the burning behind her eyelids. hallucinations. sweet hallucinations. five am. she slowly made her way across the room in the dark. she felt cold. alone. so alone. suddenly she smiled, radiant. The Magic Eight Ball said Yes.

For He Who Sulks

His hair was long. Longer than hers. She loved running her fingers through it. Long and silky. Enough to inspire inadequacy. She played with strands as he slept, twirling them around her finger almost reverently. He couldn't bear for her to feel insufficient, subordinate. He shaved his head. Her hands felt empty. She left.

taara

seventeen freckles on her neck. shaped like a star. slightly skewed. but still, a star. his star, he used to say, fanciful. his. all his. naive. but fanciful, still. but stars burn out. and nobody likes to be left with ashes. only ashes. of burnt out stars. of freckles. freckles that promised so much. once.

crush

my head is throbbing. my mouth is dry, my lips chapped. i run my tongue over my bottom lip, desperately seeking relief. cotton mouth. i can tell you exactly what that means. so much more than a fancy moniker. i can feel the cold tremors running under my skin. but you are oblivious. always oblivious.

Her nails blush endearing shades of coral and soft spirals frame her heart-shaped face. She is perfectly coiffed, impeccably dressed, not one hair out of place. A million women would die to be her. The men, to be with her. The most beautiful woman in the world. Inside, she is empty.

It was the night of the first snow. She slipped her hands into the sides of her yellow fleece shorts, smiling fleetingly at the warmth seeping into her fingers. She had never understood why he did it before.
He couldn't get the cold out of his burning fingertips. His flannel pyjamas were a terrible replacement.

the list

leg wax. mani-pedi.
new colorstay lip stain.
charge camera.
don't max out credit card.
new black dress. (#17)
dangly earrings.
only salad. no soda (soda bloats.)
dkny Be Delicious - For Her.
round hairbrush for singing.
The World is Mine.
paddle hairbrush for brushing.
practice five-second semi-demure stare.
red wine to squash flutterbyes.

The Uptown 6

Three pennies.
A small pencil.
A red umbrella with watermelons printed on it.
Two keys on a key chain.
A white hamster.
A cell phone.
A broken locket.
A baby.

She stared at the bizarre collection of images, bemused.

New York City Subway Lost and Found

She wondered if she could get her virginity back.

soundtrack

As she watched him walk out of the door, she heard the last few strains of 'their song' drift in from the neighbor's radio. She smiled bitterly through her tears, remembering when she had said to him, bathing in the afterglow, "I wish my life was a movie, just so that the music would play."

wonderland

She blew smoke rings at him and proclaimed that she felt like Alice's catterpillar. He laughed at her childishness and blew a smoke ring back at her. Glancing at the skull on the pack, she wondered if catterpillars got cancer. Then he blew one ring through another, and laughing delightedly, she forgot all about it.

Daily Planner: Year 2007

Daily Planner: Year 2007

September 6th, Thursday
Things to do today:
1. Get up
2. Survive
3. Go back to bed

September 7th, Friday
Things to do today:
1. Get up
2. Survive
3. Go back to bed

September 8th, Saturday
Things to do today:
1. Get up
2. Survive
3. Go back to bed

cigarettes and love

He smokes Marlboros. The first cigarette she ever smoked was a Benson and Hedges - Special Filter. So was the last. He kissed her after every cigarette. He said he loved the taste of cigarettes and her grape lip balm. He still smokes Marlboros. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway. The brands were all wrong.