Just for fun

His words spilled across the page
Like kisses upon the nape of her neck
Tasting imagination upon his tongue
Creative writing is more than fun

Insomnia and Abuse Short Story

She used to stay up late at night to clean the house and have peace. She could move about the house and touch things late at night, in a way she was not able to during the day.

If she touched things during the day, she was bound to do it in a way that displeased him. If she displeased him, or if he felt disrespected by the tiniest thing, she would pay for it.

She felt terrified of him. He liked the house to be clean and neat, so she had to take care to be sure things were done to his liking. But truthfully, no matter how long she cleaned, or how much she tried, it was never right for him.

After cleaning until 4 am, she laid down on the couch, with the television on quietly, so as not to disturb him. He was asleep on the next floor up, in the queen size bed. She did not dare slide into the bed next to him.

At 7 am he would awaken her by swatting her repeatedly with something….usually his coat. She would awaken mid-swatting,  and react with a normal startle reflex to being swatted while you sleep.

He would scold her and ask her how many times he told her not to jump like that when he woke her up. She was so stupid to keep forgetting how he hated it.

Then he would throw her purse on top of her and demand 3 dollars, so he could go down to the store and buy a tall boy. Beer was the only alcohol available for sale before 11 am. He would settle for that until the vodka could be purchased.

She knew better than to argue about needing the money for milk or bread. She still had bruises on her jaw, from doing that last week.

She handed him the money and he snatched it without saying anything more. But as he walked out the door, he grumbled something about her being fat and lazy for sleeping all day.

I still jump and cover my face by reflex, when someone startles me in my sleep.

Enough

I remember your laugh

And your long,  rock-star hair

That I used to run my fingers through

And wrap the loops of your curls

Around my fingers with gentle care

It was like a multi-sensory high

Just being with you

Your hands carressed my 20 year old skin

You made me promises I didn’t think you could keep

I left because I thought I could find

Someone who was better than perfect

At 20 I wasn’t so good at figuring

These kinds of things

And now it has been 25 years

And I have met men, loved them,

Married them, dated them,

Been destroyed by them…

And gathered myself in pieces

Up from the dust where they left me

Without ever looking back…

But in two decades of loving and losing

Being a friend and hoping for better

I have never found anyone

That was the kind of best friend you were

Unconditionally accepting me

No matter what I shared

Or anyone that

Lit the passion’s fire quite so high

I have never replaced you

I don’t know why I thought I could

Twenty or so years later

I wish I had not left you

But if I had stayed I never would have

Known just what I had

Time and age can teach lessons

That we can never go back

And fix

But you will always be in my heart

And that has to be enough

Oh, My Passionate Poet

Stroke me gently with your words
Of flesh to flesh
and mind to mind
Heart to heart
So hard to find

Seduce me with your rhythms sweet
Of lovers passion
Souls colliding
Face to face
Stopping time

Oh, poet how I love thy pen
The way it brings my heart to flames
My eyes to tears
My heart to cry
My mind to hear

Spin your phrases, make them sing
Draw my heart closer
To feel your passion
Drawing out mine
Lost from time

Passionate Kisses

Your kisses
Though far in between
Left traces of sweetness
Invisible, Unseen

Your touches
So painful to miss
Imprinted their memory
A longing for bliss

My body and soul, how they
Ache to be one
With the stroke of your fingers
The taste of your tongue

A break from the fear
Relief from the pain
Passion unbridled
Release like no other

Unbearable aching
To feel your kind touches
Relieving my soul
From the constant pain

To know I am Real
To know I can Feel
To know there is Passion
Still left in my Soul

Emotional expression
Unsurpassed
Truly Understood
And Seen At Last

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