I'm standing alone with the window before me open. A chill is coming from the window, running up my back. I lit a cigarette a second ago, and I'm not supposed to smoke in this grand hotel. That is why I have the window open, but somehow the window(more) is pulling me closer. The moon is big tonight. I could see it better if I climbed outside my window, but there is no ledge outside of it. Still, the window draws me in until I fall out. Now I'm just making excuses. It was me who fell out of that penthouse window. (less)
I wasn't born to be a graveling fool at your feet, but there has always been something in the way of me leaving you behind. I couldn't just leave you in my past and be done with you forever. Instead, my mind begs me to remember you, and I(more) cannot fight off the memories of you for too long. Now, all I am is a fool, a graveling fool. (less)
I knew it was too late when the doctor began to console Jen.
She had one eyebrow raised when the doctor entered the small room. Jen's lip was bleeding slightly from where she had been biting it. It didn't stop her nervous habit. The doctor looked at me(more) as if to say, "Sorry."
Jen was strong, probably one of the strongest people I was ever graced to be in the presence of at any moment in my life. I knew she could fight whatever was ahead of her.
I remember her telling me of the time her brother lost the use of his body from a motorcycle accident. She said she was the only one who lived in the same city who could take car of him. To have to see someone you love in such a condition is heartrending, even with high spirits. She said she would sit and read to him. He liked Faulkner the best. I think it was because the last thing he did before the accident was buy Jen a copy of The Sound and the Fury.
She told me it made her cry to see him smile. Something so beautiful, I suppose.
The doctor looked at her clipboard, I think dreading the words she'd have to say. (less)
The club was called Foxy.
I grabbed her hand and led her to the dance floor. The pulsing beat vibrated our bodies. One would have to decide for themselves if the music was too loud, but in that moment, it was the perfect volume.
She wasn'(more)t quite dancing, it was more of an effortless stream of fluent motions that poured from her entire being. Her back was towards me, and then she turned to face me. I was not, and am not to this day, a fabulous dancer, but I make due with what I can. Her eyes didn't make me feel ashamed for being a poor dancer though. In fact, she made me want to let loose and throw worry to the muggy, grungy ditch along the highway. A glisten in her eyes told me that she was only wanting me on that dance floor and nobody else. Just me and her. I couldn't believe she wanted me, but perhaps a man shouldn't linger on those details for too long. Ponder long enough, and the amazement will be dashed by the truth that she left you five minutes ago to dance elsewhere. The moment is there to enjoy. So, do just that.
The needle dropped on the Commodores' "Three Times a Lady." My hands trembled slightly as I placed my hands gently on her hips; nervous as to her what she would do in turn. She gracefully and confidentially wrapped her arms around my neck, and we danced closely. Closer than the nuns at the high school she went to would have approved.
A picture burned in my memory forever. I could have held her around my neck for an eternity.
I placed the flowers in front of the stone tablet, and wept for the rest of an hour. (less)
I can't look to those eyes anymore; I know them too well. Those eyes know me better though. They are not to be trusted. They know my faults, fears, and failures just as well as my beauties, hopes, and successes. I'm vulnerable in those eyes, and I am(more) so terrified of being that. (less)
She could see clearly through her mind's eye what it was that she was doing, but her cruel touch lingered on in a biting and extreme fashion which took my hand and said, "We'll leave together," but she went to the mountains and strangled the color from existence.