"He exhausted himself over her bronzed, glistening skin; his once throbbing member now lay tucked between them, sheltered by their mass of tangled limbs. They held each other in good faith that somewhere inside(more) her, life was just beginning. Smiling at this knowledge, she became his cocoon, his house, his life, just as God intended."
"Whoa, now that's some sexy indoctrination! I can almost picture the good Christian lady who had that stuffed between her mattress and box-spring, waiting for that opportune moment when she finally got the kids down for nap."
"I know the type. The only spice on her rack is paprika. Recommended to her by a real cookbook, it's guaranteed to make any dish 'festive.'"
"You can cut it out right now--I know you're referencing the story I told you about my mother. The woman likes paprika! She knows little of other spices! She does not read bible-belt porn."
"That you know of."
"You're right. I guess I'm not surprised that this sort of pro-life smut exists. Does the market truly demand this genre of paperback romance?
"Why don't you ask. . .Christina Kane. She says: 'If you enjoyed "The Jacaranda Tree," then you're sure to love "Slave to His Desire," gracing shelves in August 1988.' Wait, maybe we already have it in the stacks!"
"I only have one question for Miz Kane: why are 'members' always 'throbbing?'"
"That's between she and her Heavenly Father."
"Let's get back to alphabetizing. I think this section is having a creepy effect on you."
I can write a song or bake a cake
without batting an eyelash
downshift around an S-turn or beat you at chess
hold a firefly in my hand without flinching
and live to tell the tale
(more) but I can't make you think of me before you fall asleep
or star in your dreams if you do
because if I did, it wouldn't count
it's never worth it if the cards are stacked
better to feel the dice in the palm of your hand
a snap of the wrist then just let go
soak it all in and let the color shine through
it always does in the end
cream rises to the top
it's automatic and overdue
there's a sincerity underneath it all
it rings true and loud in all the right parts
with a subtle whisper to keep you going
in case you run out of steam
a concept that's highly debatable in certain cases
or so I've heard
the inside always shines bright
and I can't stop the flutter
or the signal
it keeps humming
buzzing underneath everything
and makes me smile hard
if I try hard enough I can pretend we held each other but
the night that wasn't always takes over
to my deepest regret
and persistent sorrow
but I snap back twice as hard and to a fault
some things do remain the same
in a manner of speaking
so now I dance
hard and fast and without remorse
keep the tempo up and the beat moving
when you prune the weeds the flowers get more sun
sometimes they blossom even when your back is turned
they keep me company while marking my place
and there's a piece of me in each bloom
with no expiration date
and no spatial concerns
She'd been gone a long time, finding herself. She always wanted to sing pain like a slave song, and stroke shame like an artist, but these shades of blue come naturally. I always loved that wholesome side of you though. The side that you thought you'd left in the(more) suburbs, and your fear of being ordinary. You loved my pretentious way with words, and desperate will. I remember the first time we held each other, and you told me you loved me. I remember the last time we kissed, and you told me you hated me.
I've got a bad memory. I never forget.
Fingers outstretched, reaching against the coming gloom
we never quite make it, our lives swirling away in hidden whirlpools. She looks into my brown eyes, and I into hers green, and the moment lasts only long enough for the both of us to wish that for once, we'd held(more) each other. But a moment in times great spiral never lasts, so we part yet again, until the loop comes back around. Next time I'll whisper my secret love, next time I'll reach further and maybe she will too. Next time our moment will last for years, next time the undertow won't sweep me away, tumbling me breathlessly beneath the salty spray. Next time...I will not fail.(less)
It was stupid. We didn't belong together. We didn't really click, or work. She was older, but didn't act it.. She was kind. Not much more can be said.
It happened.... Its a mystery. Whenever I fall in love, which is often, mind, I cling so hard to sh(more)e whom I love that I choke her... Or at least thats what I tell myself, maybe I am just never good enough... But this time was different. It was effortless. Nothing has ever come easier than being with this girl who kind of just fell on top of me. Pretty soon the two of us fell in to our routine...
Well the routine went on for longer than it should have. Our relationship was boring and mundane. Not much more can be said about that.
Then it ended.
I wouldn't say I regret it, I made my decisions and they were the best I could've made most of the time, though of course there were a few mistakes here and there.
I suppose that the people we were were not meant to be together.
The only reason I can give now for staying there so long, is that the people we were melted away when we held each other..
That doesn't make it right of course, often solace comes from comfort and the world seems a kinder place with someone always there to support you...
I think that almost makes it worse...(less)