An unexpected closure.
It's been ten years. She had a sudden realization that it has been that long since she last saw him. If you don't count the occassional times when she checked his social media to see if he is still as happy as he claimed to be the time when he left her for a better life. She wondered how he's been. Not in a resentful way, but she genuinely cared to know.
She goes back to the top of the page that she had been reading, realizing that her eyes moved along the lines of the text but she took in nothing. She tried to not concentrate on her wandering mind, but she failed. She closed the book and placed it on her bedside table. Ten years of him not knowing what she had gone through since he decided to leave their love behind. She dreamed of him every other night, that's something that he will never know. She cried for him, pretending to be okay, bled for him, and almost thought of suicide. But those dramatic memories of pain are over, and now exist like a numbed scar. Still, she wondered if he remembered her fondly. All the mishaps and mistakes she made, were they forgiven? She was a child, unknowing of how she should give love. She was naive, but her only console was that she was true. She wondered if the memories they shared together were enough to sooth him in moments of distress. It they did, it would be enough.
It's almost midday and she hasn't had breakfast. She realized that there's no more milk so she gets dressed and heads out to get some. This distraction helped her forget about her longing thoughts for a little while. And her thoughts vanished with the clanking of keys as she stumbled to lock the door.
It's a sunny day. Winter is making her way into spring. What a beautiful life, she thought. Just as she turns the corner of the street, there he was, 15 meters away, heading towards her. He was looking down while he walked, with his hands in his pocket. She had so many questions. Why was he here? He's not supposed to be in the same country, let alone on the same street. Should she talk to him? Will he recognize her? Why is he alone? She slowed down her footsteps. She can't feel her knees. Then she completely stopped, and then for a second pretended to not see him when he looked her way. But her instincts betrayed her, she did a double take.
Their eyes locked. His eyebrows confirmed that he was just as confused as she is, but they quickly relaxed. She started slowly walking again. Maybe she doesn't have to be the one to decide. Maybe he doesn't want to talk to her and that's fine. She is fine with that. And it's not until he walked right past her without slowing down that she realized she was not. She felt his burning gaze as they brushed shoulders, almost certain that she is imagining it. She squized her eyes shut in that moment, and held her breath. But in a split second it was over. She let out a sigh and resumed her walking speed, letting this be another mystery that she will probably take another three years to figure out. She was prepared to give up. She was determined to.
"Claire?" He called from a distance not five steps behind her. And she realized he'd stopped completely right after he walked past her.
She turned around, a little more quickly than she'd liked. "Hey."
How should she react? What should she do? He is coming towards her now. She cannot escape this pull that he projects.
"Hey, I thought that was you."
"Hi." She repeated, giving herself some time to process this.
"I found you." Wait, he was looking for her?
"What?" She was still baffled.
"I'm sorry to show up without warning."
"What do you mean?"
"I have been here for 3 months. I knew you were here so I came searching for you. But I was too impulsive when I got on the plane and I didn't know what to say to you once I've found you, so I guess I didn't actually try very hard to find you." He blurted.
All this doesn't make any sense. Why would he be looking for her? Isn't he supposed to be happily married by now?
"Why are you here?" She finally started to ask one of the 300 questions she had in her mind, but the moment she asked it, she realized that she might have appeared too rude.
He seemed hesitant. He took a deep breath and said, "Should we sit down and have some coffee?"
She agreed. She was starving. And she wanted to hear his story. Her heart fluttered at this opportunity to learn about his life in the past decade. And she desperately pushed away the thought that he might actually still be in love with her. Why else would he travel half way across the world to see her? She tried to remain calm and polite, although deep down inside her it burns.
"Could I have a long black please," he said to the young waiter. She didn't remember he liked coffee.
"An omellete and a latte for me. Thanks." She said.
"Sure." The waiter picked up their menus and left.
"Still the same breakfast, huh?" His eyes glowed in the bright sunlight coming from the windows. She blushed.
"So, how are you?" She started again, as calmly as she could although her heart almost left her chest.
He smiled painfully. "I've been thinking...about you."
She didn't know what to say. "Why?"
He looked down for a second but immediately looked back up, almost as if he doesn't want to lose sight of her.
"You're as beautiful as the day I left you." He blurted again.
"Um, thank you, Al - Albert." She corrected herself. And for a moment she saw a hint of tear fog up his beautiful brown eyes.
"It's been 10 years, hasn't it?" He spoke her mind.
"Yes. It has." The memory of them sitting on the grass, gazing at the clouds passing by, filled her mind. On that faithful day, she did not realize that it would be their last. Although, she did feel a little strange. He was not truthful about what he was saying. She should have known, that perfection is delicate. She was not perfect enough for him. He had been sidetracked, by another lover, one younger and more beautiful. How could she ever stop to think that he would love her forever, unconditionally and untiringly?
The pause was so long but he knew she was reliving the painful memory, that same memory that he fabricated on that perfect sunny day.
"I'm sorry," he began, "about everything." And that was the moment she broke into tears for the first time in front of him.
SECRETS
an acrostic in dactylic tetrameter (catalectic)
Slowly, I spread my soul all the way open, and
Eager and breathless, small whispers I utter.
Carelessly, hoping my trust goes unbroken, while
Reaching for you with the hands of a lover.
Even my heart’s hidden truths you discover;
Tenderly, you explore my every weakness, as
Swiftly I drown in your delicate sweetness.
© 2019 - dustygrein
The Chaos
Been trying to make sense of the chaos
Realized I’ve written it all in crayons
Weed loud so I drown out the sounds
Of the voices with contention; doubt
Lit the bridge that burned down this house
Sorry if the flame I can’t contain
Is a problem or a stain
Don’t mean to be a strain
Just wanna turn to a new day
Not let hate ink the page
Call this chapter ‘I’ll be brave’
If I fall I won’t stay here
Save at the bottom, I hear speakers
Playing joyful music so I shuffle feet first
Over glass or flaming rocks
I got your back; I’m at your front
Armed to the teeth, holding blunts
If I knocked on your door
Would you open up?
Keep in mind my glass
Has never been a cup
I’d walk a line but I see mud
I fall to fly my graceful strut
Straight to hell, paved up fucks
I use to give
Now they live here on my heart
My armor all, code or crutch
I say I don’t believe in luck
But I flip pennies heads up for the stars
To sprinkle wishes on for those that come along
I thought that things would feel more permanent
Thought joy could come by earning it
Lost hope one summer burning it
They say go straight I’m turning it
Turning up my music and my cup
Someone roll me up another blunt
These storms will blow in ghost to haunt
All your skeletons will dance to shore
It’s ok, been there before
Accept that some things have no cure
Don’t get lost in the rituals
Or let it take all your spiritual
Tomorrow’s a myth
Today the gift
My anxiety’s the rift
Chasm between my heart and lips
Failure in the normal system
Lost my best men; my sailing ships
Should find my feet, gotta get a grip
I’ve been dying learning how to live
Guess the chaos isn’t really making sense
Love Story
Danni was determined not to let her jerk of a husband ruin her night.Just because he had stormed out it didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun!
She sat at the bar, sipping her drink and wondering who she would dance with next, when two handsome, tanned men approached her from opposite sides.
“Would you care to dance?”
They both spoke at once.
She smiled and they laughed.
“I saw her first,” joked the one to her left.
“No, I did!” laughed his rival.
“Now don’t fight boys. Maybe I can dance with you both.”
She slid off her stool and walked towards the dance floor. The men followed like puppies.
It was a raunchy song by Beyonce and Danni certainly put her back into it.
The men did, too, taking every opportunity to touch her through her thin black dress.
On some occasions, They both had hands on her and Danni was shocked to find the touch of four hands at once was a major turn on!
For the next hour they talked and danced... and touched.
The men got more adventurous, holding her waist, touching her legs, whispering in her ear as they held her hand.
When the last dance came on, it was a slowy, of course.
“Hmm” mused Dave, the taller of the two men.
“I don’t object to a slow threesome dance. But people might talk.”
“Me too,” agreed Jake.
“Maybe we can have that dance in my room?”
The two men looked at Danni. Her heart was pounding. She was having such a good time. And the attention and touches of these handsome men had really turned her on.
But was she really going to go back to a hotel room with two strange men?
Her mouth became dry.
“Sure, that sounds fun.”
She heard the words as if they weren’t her own.
But they were.
Dave took her hand and led her to the lift. Jake walked alongside.
In the lift she wasn’t sure what was to come. But she was high on the excitement of the night. It was ten years since she had enjoyed the touch of other men. But her instincts were coming back to her. She was so turned on.
Then Jake and Dave made a confession.
They worked together. They knew each other. They had planned to approach Danni at the same time and ask her to dance in the hope she would dance with both.
Danni was shocked, but laughed. And she was flattered.
From the lift they walked to the room. The lights were dim and Jake put on some soft music and took Danni’s hand, drawing her to him. She moved in close; close enough to feel the bulge in his trousers as she moved her pelvis into him. She sighed.
Dave moved in behind her, hands on her bare shoulders, caressing her softly. He gently lowered his head and kissed the nape of her neck. She moaned and eased her bum back as Dave moved closer. His bulge brushed her bum, as his hands slid down her side, softly touching the side of her breasts.
At the same time, Jake moved in for the kiss. He looked her in the eye and she put her hand to his head, pulling him to her and kissing him sensuously. As their tongues met, Dave cupped her breasts and gently squeezed.
Danni’s pussy was aching and swamped. She could smell her own sex.
Jake moved his hand to her skirt hem and started to lift it slowly, breaking their kiss so that Danni could turn her head and kiss Dave full on the lips, as Jake stroked the damp patch on her knickers.
Danni was in Heaven.
And the best was yet to come.
But if you really want to know the whole story of what happened in that hotel, I’m afraid you’ll have to use your imagination.
For she never told me the rest of the story as we made love the following week.
Perhaps she will do next time.
Mrs. Marshall
She sat in the window of the café, reading and writing as she had nearly every day for the last 20 years.
“Good morning, Mrs. Marshall. Regular?”
“Yes, my dear. And maybe a cherry pastry. I’m feeling a little sweet today.”
“Oh, you’re always that, Mrs. Marshall.”
“Must be all that sugar I put in my tea,” she laughed. They always had the same joke.
When he returned with her tea and pastry, she said, “Today’s my birthday.”
“Really? Happy Birthday! So, if you don’t mind my asking, how old?”
“90.”
“90? I thought maybe 75.”
“That old? I’m losing my touch,” she responded with a smile.
“Never that. You look great. My grandma doesn’t look nearly so great and she is 75.”
“Well, thank you, young man, and I promise not to tell your grandmother,” she winked.
He laughed as he walked away, but felt sorry for the old lady, alone on her birthday as she was every other day of the year. He’d never seen her with anyone in all the time he’d worked there. But she always seemed so cheerful. He turned to watch her from the counter. She had fallen asleep. He laughed. Just like his grandma. He went back to work.
After an hour, he went over to check if she needed anything and noticed that she hadn’t touched anything. His heart stopped. He touched her hand. Cold.
“Ricky! Call 911! We have a problem here!” he yelled across the quiet café.
He said to stop being such an open book but my words look better naked
You said you'd take care of the kids
when I
finally
kill myself
guess we swapped out 11 year olds
still good to know
you got my back
I romanticize you
like the latter
was a punch
line
and not all love ends
in physical head injuries
some are metaphorical
like the way you said
you'd ask your next girl
if she's on meds
if she's on the mend
if she's got the bend
over backwards
Only good if I'm crawling
back
toward
you
Only good if I censor
what I think I'll do
Only good cause I'll fuck
les deux
Only good
if I plead for you
Well I'm all trick
like no treat
a real dime piece
a sweet cut of meat
and she's so crunchy
know you recognized that avocado
pit
was access to your own sweet
tits
up
we're off
we're on
sorry I mean
just getting it on
cause you know I know
You can fuck anything
if it's got a good center
you can fuck anything
if it will let you enter
you can say anything
this is my ending
you can't censor me
This shit's a tool
heart
wrenching
Time for a Serious Brainstorm
The goal is to make the world a better place. I think first we have to acknowledge that many parts of the world are just fine the way they are, those locations being where irresponsible and disrespectful humans have not encroached upon them.
In the last century, the population of the poor, uneducated, uncultured, violent, immoral, drug addicted and mentally ill has skyrocketed. Institutions supported by state and government funds are currently at full capacity forcing early discharges of these people literally back to the streets where they will cause more mayhem. They keep having babies. The percentage of this population is growing faster that the populous of the more educated, independent and responsible individuals. Relative to the future, do the math.
People are defecating, sleeping and pandering in the streets. They smell pretty bad too.
They steal to survive; they are dangerous. Some frickin how, they have babies.
Our laws are redefining what misdemeanors are to avoid putting these people in jails.
They are disruptive, loud, vile in speech, violent and many cannot reach reality due to the damage and disease of their brains. Guards and mental healthcare workers are quitting their jobs because of the stress and danger of being around them.
Ask the CPS what they think! The already damaged children of these individuals generally grow to perpetuate the problem. Kids out of control and for various reasons (born addicted amidst despicable single parenting) are usually intellectually challenged and/or mentally ill. They grow up and have babies with no foresight or sense of responsibility. Yes, just ask the Child Protection Services. Ask them why they are quitting their jobs too.
The political idiots making the laws including some of the wealthy will be unpleasantly surprised when they are surrounded by the public they have created. They will relocate to America's more quaint towns and the cycle will repeat itself thus spreading the human roaches all over our country.
I suggest we get our heads out of the sand and address the homeless problem ASAP.
I suggest a national brainstorming event including law makers and anyone with ideas of possible solutions before "The Night of the Living Dead" becomes all of our realities.
If The United States sets a standard, may be the world will take notice of how we fixed the problem and make the entire planet a better place.
Today He Gets Your Hand
Written for my youngest daughter, and
read at her wedding, August 4th, 2019
Today he gets your hand, my dear, yet in my heart you’ll stay.
Though you may trade my name for his, my girl you’ll always be,
and while you have each other now, I’m never far away.
I’ve locked away my love for you and thrown away the key.
The music starts, I bow my head; let heaven hear my plea—
true happiness is what I want for you, and so I pray
that this young man I give you to, loves you unselfishly.
Today he gets your hand, my dear, yet in my heart you’ll stay.
A marriage has both ups and downs, like nighttime follows day,
and sharing futures doesn’t mean you’ll never disagree.
As you begin this new life-stage, please don’t forget to play,
and though you trade my name for his, my girl you’ll always be.
A true love doesn’t mean that eye to eye you’ll always see,
or that you’ll never fight as you traverse your day-to-day;
remember though, you started out in friendship, you and he—
and while you have each other now, I’m never far away.
I’ll be right here to guide you back, if you should lose your way,
for no one else will ever love you half as much as me,
and you can tell me anything, I’ll trust in what you say—
I’ve locked away my love for you and thrown away the key.
Come take my hand, let’s walk the aisle, and let your love shine free;
just share your hearts, and you’ll get through together—come what may.
Real life is more complex than any love story could be,
but if you trust each other—and stay friends—you’ll be okay.
Today he gets your hand.
(I love you)
© 2019 - dustygrein
