tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11657874123683808452024-03-13T12:20:54.579-05:00Breakfast After 10It's just me. Can we take it from the top?LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-51518001600997927572020-12-06T09:10:00.005-06:002020-12-06T10:17:06.468-06:00Among Post Oaks<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">But if the brown leaves had not </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">released from </span></span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-8cf69369-7fff-7dc4-f8ea-d67fe32e2088"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">every branch and twig</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">to disassemble the canopy,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">which now looms gnarled </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">and blunted</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">and exposed</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">and monochrome</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">in the morning,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">You would not have seen</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">through them </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">the brilliance of the sun</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">at the horizon </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">with blinding</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">layered complexion</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">of peach </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">and grapefruit </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">and mango</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Rays reaching your chest</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">invite you to rest</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">in this lonely season</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">still offering watercolor</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">fit for a storybook</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">sunrise centerfold</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">(but only to those </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">who choose to</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: courier;">look ahead).</span></span></p></span>LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-55875406263437547742018-11-16T21:10:00.001-06:002018-11-16T21:10:54.513-06:00slippery slope<div class="mail-message expanded" id="m-3913610448736274314" style="font-family: sans-serif; 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when the air is still<div>
and quiet</div>
<div>
the puppy I brought home barks from her crate in the bedroom</div>
<div>
(feeling sorry for herself)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I no longer desire to fill the silence</div>
<div dir="auto">
layered between us that is</div>
<div dir="auto">
ignored</div>
<div>
like dust laden cobwebs in the corners of a skylight</div>
<div dir="auto">
out of reach and otherwise too much trouble to address</div>
<div dir="auto">
each argument a pebble</div>
<div dir="auto">
spit from my teeth</div>
<div dir="auto">
popping and rolling to a stop where it is</div>
<div dir="auto">
laminated by singular conversations</div>
<div dir="auto">
that go nowhere</div>
<div dir="auto">
<br /></div>
<div dir="auto">
and where are we now?</div>
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separated by a mountain of invisible pebbles</div>
<div dir="auto">
imprisoned within an intangible matrix of weeping serum</div>
<div dir="auto">
<br /></div>
<div>
in the best of times</div>
<div>
you don't reach for me</div>
<div>
(and I don't reach for you)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
you've never taken it before</div>
<div>
(this is new)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
but</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
does it speak to you</div>
<div>
(does it speak of me)</div>
<div>
that </div>
<div>
the first thing I do is check for your toothbrush?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
relationships must have an expiration date</div>
<div>
and ours is curdling</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
it is of greater concern that you might come back</div>
<div>
in the middle of the night</div>
<div>
disrupting my current with heat and turbulence</div>
<div>
rather than stay wherever you went</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't care where you are if it's where you've chosen to be.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
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LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-31429847163552229222015-02-16T21:01:00.001-06:002015-02-16T21:04:43.566-06:00love is a verbtwenty eleven<br />
<br />
I knew I shouldn't have divulged like that.<br />
<br />
So early, in the dark... With the lights out, his facial expression was concealed (if he even had one).<br />
<br />
<i>I love you. </i>I said, though I couldn't be sure it was true. He just felt so big to me. Like someone who could finish what he started. Like someone whose arms fit right around my damage, my weary, my hope.<br />
<br />
Before that, all he had ever mustered up to say was <i>I think I'm falling for you</i> after three or four too many drinks. Since <a href="http://ablueoctober.blogspot.com/2012/11/if-you-let-yourself-be-tamed.html" target="_blank">the first night we met</a>, it was no secret that I don't play hard to get. I was there for the taking. But instead I found myself giving (against my therapist's advice).<br />
<br />
He didn't respond right away (he never does). But at least he held my hand through the night.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TtvGaOuVHGU/VOKcLcIILcI/AAAAAAAAA1s/FnvhQofnIeY/s1600/IMG_20141020_192559_763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TtvGaOuVHGU/VOKcLcIILcI/AAAAAAAAA1s/FnvhQofnIeY/s1600/IMG_20141020_192559_763.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
twenty fifteen<br />
<br />
No one has ever asked for the privilege like that.<br />
<br />
As if this were our first time and he wasn't sure if I might regret it in the morning. Tonight, it is my expression that is hidden.<br />
<br />
<i>May I make love to you?</i> Plain words, but disarmingly sincere. He whispered in a voice very new to me. To be honest, the phrase <i>make love</i> solicits a somewhat hostile disfavor<i>. </i>It sounds trite. And it reminds me of New Year's night years ago when my sister was a baby and my step-dad insisted on <i>making love</i> to my mother in a hotel room so small I could feel their breath from the adjacent double bed. So, I guess that means I much prefer to fuck. Perhaps because my ex husband treated me like a B-side porn star. Perhaps because then, at least I know exactly what currency with which to bargain. Perhaps because I don't know the difference between a good love and a good fuck (giving it, getting it, wanting it).<br />
<br />
A barely audible <i>yes</i>.<br />
<br />
<br />LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-20898777297749442532015-01-10T21:08:00.000-06:002015-01-10T21:08:44.307-06:00in the first degree<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7z_yI0TXX78/VLHnUHLdeZI/AAAAAAAAA1M/1j0Q_QPXhVQ/s1600/IMG950131-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7z_yI0TXX78/VLHnUHLdeZI/AAAAAAAAA1M/1j0Q_QPXhVQ/s1600/IMG950131-001.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
first glance<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
first kiss<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
first touch<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
first chance<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where does love go if it does not die?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If it never fizzles, fractures, or morphs into something
ugly?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If it is not burned at the stake or strangled empty of all
its good intentions?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If two people choose to walk away from a worthy thing
because <i>love is not enough</i>? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where does love go when we are simply…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>over?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Will my lost love be shunted into a bank of unclaimed
property, collecting dust until something triggers memory of its existence? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Will my saved love burn holes in my pockets and trickle out
the bottoms until I have nothing left to give? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or will I give it away too freely to underserving
beneficiaries, uneducated of its value? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Will my quiet love find peace in another heart, in another
town? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Will I bury it within my body, only until I explode with the
madness of missed possibility? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Will I rest it on a shelf, high above arms reach, so that I
can see but cannot touch? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Please, God) Will this love fade into something more
tolerable? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or will it become impossible to say his name without resentment?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am quite sure that love like this cannot die of natural
causes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
No, love like this must be murdered. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-76633449121492407292014-12-22T20:55:00.002-06:002014-12-22T21:13:16.383-06:00CaitlynIt's my first day at work and this young girl is an eager stranger<br />
yet something unnerving clouds our introduction and all I can remember is her mouth.<br />
<br />
Her mouth with the corners that turn down in a way that makes my stomach sour<br />
even though she has a pretty smile.<br />
<br />
A pretty smile, with full lips and straight, white teeth, unaware that its particular phenotype only reminds me of another mouth on another girl.<br />
<br />
Another girl who used to be my friend with another mouth that used to laugh with me<br />
and share wine and secrets and shadows.<br />
<br />
Shadows now hang low over my brow as I try and focus on her questions<br />
though all I hear is the blurred sound of air pushed through that mouth.<br />
<br />
That mouth of a stranger that makes me want to slap her for being such a hypocrite<br />
with the laughing and the wine and the secrets.<br />
<br />
The secrets that she didn't tell with her mouth turned down were actually the most telling<br />
...but this young girl is just an eager intern and it is only my first day at work.<br />
<br />
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<br />LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-83807904254181883402014-08-24T10:01:00.000-05:002014-08-24T10:01:57.683-05:00Mr. Sandmanbut for a thin, deceitful fraction of time, in the disconcerting wake between the things you want and the things you have, I believed he was there, lying in bed with me<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m-4r7772Stw/U_n8avRB30I/AAAAAAAAA0M/AAQzXOzgFBA/s1600/wakeup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m-4r7772Stw/U_n8avRB30I/AAAAAAAAA0M/AAQzXOzgFBA/s1600/wakeup.jpg" height="458" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<i>wake up</i><br />
<i><br /></i>LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-53049984675523417092014-08-13T17:14:00.001-05:002014-08-13T17:14:46.805-05:00Or Bust<i>The elephant in the room has walked out. </i><br />
<i>_________________________________</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I've been writing this blog for about a year and a half now. On quiet afternoons, I like to flip back through the pages and see how the manuscript changed. How my own vision has progressed. What stories are still buried in drafts (or, worse, in memories). If you've read closely, you may have guessed that my prose of past and present are wholly intertwined; nevertheless, these bits are absolutely true as lived except for chronology. When it comes to the ghosts of men haunting these walls, there was <a href="http://ablueoctober.blogspot.com/search/label/SB" target="_blank">S.B.</a> (who could not be encouraged to speak the truth), there were "the in-betweens" - including <a href="http://ablueoctober.blogspot.com/search/label/Mike" target="_blank">Mike</a> (who now finds it best to leave my messages unanswered) and my beautiful <a href="http://ablueoctober.blogspot.com/search/label/Jerome" target="_blank">French chef</a> (for whom stories are few but cloaked in mystery), and there is <a href="http://ablueoctober.blogspot.com/search/label/Jack" target="_blank">Jack</a>. Humble, sweet Jack (with whom my heart is currently entangled in an impossible situation).<br />
<br />
So, if you happen to stumble upon this house routinely, then you might soon find stories of "the afters" too. (Those are yet to be made.) My only hope is that I am not stuck in a loop already lived.<br />
<br />
I'm done with the Midwest, for now.<br />
Heading back to Texas.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Please please please, just help me untangle.<br />
<br />LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-8811393492677130812014-07-24T11:14:00.000-05:002014-07-24T21:24:53.703-05:00What might have been?<div style="color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I guess that's what I wanted to say.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What?</span></i></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That I thought we really had something here. That's all.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me too.</span></i></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<br />
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</div>
<br />
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-style: normal; margin: 0px;">
So now it is I who should forgive the sweet liar (for no such optimism should go unpunished).</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br />
____________________________________________<br />
<br />
He still tells me he loves me every morning</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
and as I emerge from a haze of restless dreams</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
I often wonder if, with each passing day, in these tragically sweet moments,</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
and before the commitment of dawn</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
if he means it a little less than the day before.</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Overtones of disappointment punctuate our every move.<br />
Our present is muted by our future and what might have been a great love recedes as quietly as it came. </div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
I study his face - </div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
his pores</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
the crinkles near his eyes<br />
hints of silver at his temples.</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
He can stare at the ceiling, expressionless,<br />
for so long</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
but when I ask him what he is thinking he says</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<i>nothing</i></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
and I'm afraid that I believe him.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
my brain is abuzz with sensation</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
constantly churning and negotiating and wondering</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
(overthinking)<br />
<br />
and this is how I know he will do fine when I am gone for good.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zu6rhI8Lf_o/U9EwhAnVYZI/AAAAAAAAAzw/z6HZUq0xtRI/s1600/toes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zu6rhI8Lf_o/U9EwhAnVYZI/AAAAAAAAAzw/z6HZUq0xtRI/s1600/toes.jpg" height="470" width="640" /></a></div>
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LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-62075297427495581222014-06-04T07:10:00.000-05:002014-08-24T11:02:14.191-05:00Lies Our Mothers Told Us.<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
beauty, brains, and charm</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
you're a catch, they said</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>joke's on you, Gorgeous</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<br />LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-35046343897656719242014-06-02T16:27:00.000-05:002014-06-02T16:27:39.950-05:00we made no mistakes<br />
<div>
Fingers crossed behind my back, I promised myself I believed in miracles</div>
<br />I made a choice.<br />And then spring came with a cool breeze and sunlight<br />(winter was gone)<br />and I wondered if I had made a mistake -<div>
the kind of short-sighted blunder that romantic heroines pursue, only to come running back at the twelfth hour. </div>
<div>
<br />No, he will never chase me. </div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(I have to keep reminding myself of this simple and complicated fact.)</span></i><br /><br />The humidity is almost unbearable now, but I'm holding out on the a/c for a while longer. He lets me lay close in the dark, even though he is too hot for covers. <br /><br />He touches my spine, tracing the space between ribs. Rolling on my back, my leg draped over his - I pretend not to notice as his hands brush ever so slightly closer with each breathless, finger painted circle. He waits for me to invite him deeper and obliges when I cover his hand with mine, working softly to a place outside of my skin. He knows I cannot be saved but he pushes inside of me with a heart full of mercy so that I may at least forget long enough to drop off the edge of sleep.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GoGBPF0MyFQ/U4znD8HFvNI/AAAAAAAAAyk/blO4F0Q8HbU/s1600/steam.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="399" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GoGBPF0MyFQ/U4znD8HFvNI/AAAAAAAAAyk/blO4F0Q8HbU/s1600/steam.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Thank you. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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caging its writhing muscle inside angular confines of pink bone<br />
slippery pieces, thick with asphyxiation, slump against one another<br />
and every involuntary pulse threatens outright dismemberment<br />
<br />
firmly callused fingertips freshen indolent wounds that will never heal<br />
because they have sprouted deep between the root of survival and my solar plexus<br />
a low-lidded third eye stoically observes from above while viscus drips across barren hips<br />
and it is all I can do to just breathe<br />
<br />
haplessly peel back layers hopelessly papered to someone else's walls<br />
salvaging star-crossed hands to prevent purple offal from colliding with silk<br />
plucked from beneath tenuously timid toes as this chest lurches forward<br />
and stumbles along to a whimpering score of weakly gurgling flow<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9VYG7kaz2gQ/U4dOHKObm4I/AAAAAAAAAyI/a104aYJgR1Q/s1600/Chest+anatomy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9VYG7kaz2gQ/U4dOHKObm4I/AAAAAAAAAyI/a104aYJgR1Q/s1600/Chest+anatomy.jpg" height="348" width="640" /></a></div>
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</div>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>(on the bright side, there is no chance of falling if you never bore full weight)</i><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-44350368874967555292014-05-28T09:11:00.000-05:002014-05-28T09:12:54.502-05:00Constriction<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">slowly walking down the hall</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">faster than a cannonball...</span></i><br />
<br />
standing forward<br />
rushing upright<br />
freezing cacophony<br />
collimating light<br />
<br />
deciding singular<br />
generating forthright<br />
focusing beam<br />
shaping tonight<br />
<br />
hushing whispers<br />
loving slight<br />
asking forgiveness<br />
<br />
dysphoria despite<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-39364220211026579812014-03-30T21:26:00.001-05:002014-03-31T09:12:33.654-05:00time is tumbling towards usDisquiet nights and thoughtless turbulence -<br />
disturbulence -<br />
- it leaves me blinking into the grainy darkness.<br />
There are three boys in my bed (twelve legs between us).<br />
If I am careful, no one will be the wiser.<br />
It's 3AM and "trying" to sleep is a perfect example of futility.<br />
<br />
Yesterday afternoon I hit a wall. Expecting to stumble heavy and dormant into sleep ends with nothing but disappointment . Energy reserves caked with torpor invite only vague disinterest in going the "extra mile."<br />
<br />
I need my clock to reset.<br />
<br />
-- One final job interview. Did you know these things take three days? THREE DAYS.<br />
That's three days of being "on." Being "charming." Being "engaged." Being attentive, and thoughtful, interested<br />
(and interesting).<br />
<br />
But how can I be interested (and interesting) when all I want in the world is to know what in the world I want?<br />
<br />
___________________<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>We are so glad to have you. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">He reaches for my hand. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Welcome back. </i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i>
<br />
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LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-88076451360700032872014-03-05T21:03:00.000-06:002014-03-07T11:46:39.551-06:00Push Replay<i>Do you wonder what might have been?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<span id="goog_2126261834"></span>Eight years later.<span id="goog_2126261835"></span><br />
Metal band. Ruddy beard (Van Dyke). Extra tattoos to make it legit.<br />
His face is familiar, but together we are out of context.<br />
<a href="http://ablueoctober.blogspot.com/2013/04/we-are-all-liars.html" target="_blank">He thinks he still knows me.</a><br />
My wicked breath in his ear,<br />
<i> I like to be bitten.</i><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yzGyx0lO7Vo/UxflIPo5vwI/AAAAAAAAAws/o2A9gV35BRE/s1600/mt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yzGyx0lO7Vo/UxflIPo5vwI/AAAAAAAAAws/o2A9gV35BRE/s1600/mt.jpg" height="640" width="512" /></a></div>
<br />
Sunrise recession, an escape back to Atlanta:<br />
Salty with sins and the smoking gun of mouth-sized bruises across my chest, down my legs.<br />
<br />
I think he expected some sort of love story. He wanted to sweep me off my feet.<br />
I didn't want to be saved.<br />
It should have ended there.<br />
(<a href="http://ablueoctober.blogspot.com/2013/06/criminal.html" target="_blank">But it didn't</a>.)<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>xx</i><br />
<i><br /></i>LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-77868130082067536162014-03-03T15:16:00.000-06:002014-03-03T15:16:35.710-06:00This Is HowAbsentminded musings of time<br />
leak between life and shallow pools of<br />
unfamiliar sex and twilight cocktails.<br />
<br />
<br />
Mingling among casual context,<br />
chance surreptitiously takes shape<br />
in the serpentine ribbons of heat unwinding<br />
from citrus and chamomile and ceramic.<br />
<br />
<br />
Inaudible whispers of pause separate the instance of<br />
one thousand twenty nights,<br />
and thoughts heedlessly venture forward,<br />
slipping past well paid wardens of weakness,<br />
to a time when the green sprinkles we bought yesterday at the grocery store<br />
are expected to expire.<br />
<br />
<br />
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I don't think he noticed. </div>
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LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-45795238443641532462014-02-28T13:58:00.001-06:002014-02-28T14:00:04.317-06:00Loyalty and Logic<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">If I could just let go </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">of the feeling that </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">everything would be </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">lost -</span><br />
<br />
<br />
I do best with decision making between three options. No more, no less.<br />
<br />
Pink, green, black.<br />
Mild, moderate, severe.<br />
Wine, beer, cocktail.<br />
Comedy, drama, documentary.<br />
Chocolate, fruit, mint.<br />
<br />
It sounds so fucking selfish to say it, but it's true. I have too many alternatives. Too many opportunities. More than three things to choose from.<br />
<br />
I've waited nearly two months for a hard offer from the hospital in Atlanta. I've called their bluff on offers for other positions within the company. I've played the game and interviewed with multiple other groups. (I'm no longer one of those girls who doesn't know what she's worth.) In fact, I'd started to give serious consideration to places I never intended on living. To job titles I never intended on pursuing.<br />
<br />
Minneapolis.<br />
West Lafayette?<br />
San Antonio.<br />
Las Vegas?<br />
Australia.<br />
(Tenure?)<br />
<br />
Then it came. Then they called <i>my</i> bluff. With a deadline.<br />
The clock ticks in Atlanta.<br />
And now I am back to square one.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-acVff81KOqI/UxDpKPcUgcI/AAAAAAAAAwE/AcGEhbdw8mI/s1600/you+me+us.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-acVff81KOqI/UxDpKPcUgcI/AAAAAAAAAwE/AcGEhbdw8mI/s1600/you+me+us.jpg" height="200" width="199" /></a></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Fucking loyalty. Fucking logic. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Also, I have missed you. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">..</span>LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-20870125108996778082013-12-16T16:30:00.000-06:002013-12-16T16:32:21.760-06:00Truth and ConsequenceI've toyed with the notion of tearing <a href="http://ablueoctober.blogspot.com/2012/12/christmas.html" target="_blank">a page from this place</a>.<br />
A gift of paper folded into paper.<br />
<br />
I would sit cross-legged, facing him, and slide it over the (sometimes preposterous distance of) wrinkled bedsheets between my knees and his fingers.<br />
<br />
A piece of me.<br />
<br />
He would lift it up and carefully unwrap it, meeting my eyes for a moment before looking down to find that he is holding my insides between thumb and forefinger.<br />
<br />
I imagine his furrowed brow trying to translate.. to make sense of the context for a time much longer than required to read it through.<br />
<i>Did you write this?</i> he might think aloud.<br />
<i>Is it true? </i>because he won't remember.<br />
<i><br /></i>
And what do you suppose he would <i>do</i> with the tiny story I gave to him?<br />
Would he find value? Or indifference?<br />
Would he find me there? Or just strung out words?<br />
_________________________________<br />
<br />
No one knows about this sanctuary of mine. Not Jack. Not Laila. Not my little sister (who might be too wrapped up in her own life to read for the sake of being a part of mine, but who should one day stumble into this darkness because we are two old souls lost in time).<br />
<br />
I could delete that last paragraph. That would tidy it up -- a little nip/tuck into something simple, something more complimentary of the Christmas packaging.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">I might die forever in the sins of such omission. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Would you?</span><br />
_________________________________<br />
<br />
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<br />LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-32109157965503987312013-12-08T23:36:00.000-06:002013-12-08T23:36:48.343-06:00brittle<i>You are the most incredible woman I've ever met. </i><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Those eyes, dramatically painted in the color of royalty with lashes for days,<br />
a pale shoulder slipping through an oversized neckline -</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She will pull you in</div>
<div>
and lift you up</div>
<div>
up</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
p</div>
<div>
u </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
and the world falls away<br />
because you are the only person that matters</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Mon amour...</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You might become addicted to that rolling high<br />
of everything she embodies<br />
for you -<br />
a challenge and a novelty, adventure and good fortune-<br />
undeniably there is no one like her in the world -<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EBEC3ItNsuc/UqVRmfSayqI/AAAAAAAAAvg/wM90MIVnMvw/s1600/Headband.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EBEC3ItNsuc/UqVRmfSayqI/AAAAAAAAAvg/wM90MIVnMvw/s400/Headband.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
<br />
yet suspicious<br />
of all who came before and after </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
presently<br />
you may find yourself<br />
passionately compelled </div>
<div>
to snatch her down and smash her up</div>
<div>
claiming a piece for yourself<br />
before she gets to thinking<br />
she's got it all<br />
<br />
with<br />
or<br />
without<br />
you<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-42472418573180657622013-10-26T11:44:00.000-05:002013-10-26T11:44:53.926-05:0010:21<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div>
I used to gasp and feign surprise, fingers brushing my collar bone. </div>
<div>
<i>I can't believe you remembered</i>, I would say sweetly. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Season and space were irrelevant when the clock flipped. </div>
<div>
Twenty one minutes after ten. </div>
<div>
Ten twenty one.</div>
<div>
Day or night. </div>
<div>
10:21</div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i>Happy birthday, baby!</i> He would turn to me and smile so brightly he made strangers believe it was true. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Of course it was a silly second of nonsense. But even then he was unhappy because my "birthday" came around twice in a normal day and his only once in the afternoon. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I wonder if he still plays the game. For how many days or months or years will he silently think of me <a href="http://ablueoctober.blogspot.com/2013/05/for-moment.html" target="_blank">when the clock strikes</a> while she is none the wiser?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-44483360322396336412013-09-13T21:58:00.001-05:002013-09-13T21:58:11.468-05:00SoakShe likes to feel the slow swell of freedom from the source. <br />
Flooding from the spout to drown the day, hot vapors swirl overhead, clinging to quiet lips and settling into ghostly shadows on the glass. Flushed thighs demarcate a vulnerable shade of pink and she slips her toes beneath the tumbling heat<br />
<br />
thankful to be alone.<br />
<br />
Hooded eyes are cloaked with careless smudges of this morning's mascara but she does not bother. Legs slide against one another, smiling because they are smooth. Fitzgerald propped on the seat (desperate to be devoured) - but languid arms are heavy.<br />
<br />
And when this rescue burns cold, it is cast into a scientific spiral of pity and lavender, recklessly slurping and sucking as she stands - it is gone. Saturated foot prints soaking into the hardwood prove that this sort of solitude is fleeting.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-74099862441741055382013-08-19T10:43:00.001-05:002014-08-24T11:02:14.195-05:00Patronizing CrocodilePatronizing crocodile,<br />
Your tears cool, condescending<br />
And merciless in shadows.<br />
<br />
Water stained wine glass brimming<br />
With sins of omission near<br />
Cracked lips awkwardly twisted.<br />
<br />
Little faith paper thin now<br />
Wet and soft will not suspend<br />
You over anyone.<br />
<br />
________________________<br />
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<br />LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-65592543269633397212013-06-16T09:33:00.002-05:002014-06-03T16:00:37.806-05:00A Hard Sell<div>
The Day I Met My Dad</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Rustling little dress,<br />
<div>
<div>
Mom laughed but polka dots would<br />
<div>
Prove I was awesome.</div>
</div>
</div>
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<div>
<br /></div>
LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-76671155244427275732013-06-11T17:22:00.000-05:002013-06-11T20:24:23.840-05:00criminalIt was supposed to be a simple reunion -<br />
two old friends quietly taking solace in the infrequent luxury of being richly understood<br />
kindred spirits content to walk about in the candor of daytime shadows<br />
<br />
How was I to know he would pour his heart out to Laila the night I introduced them?<br />
<br />
<i>He's in love with you!</i> she laughed with wide eyes. <i>Like... madly in love. </i><br />
<br />
What had I done?<br />
<br />
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<br />LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-91452712862815962602013-06-10T20:09:00.000-05:002014-06-02T19:01:32.978-05:00Crazy Making<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7qnBr4z2-8U/UbZ3AYzOCUI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/32j6TKR3b5g/s1600/skeletons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7qnBr4z2-8U/UbZ3AYzOCUI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/32j6TKR3b5g/s1600/skeletons.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
As luck would have it, </div>
<div>
fate was cruel.</div>
<div>
Departing like vectors,</div>
<div>
their sacraments and separations</div>
<div>
parallel</div>
<div>
did compose deceptive serendipity</div>
<div>
and spurious connections.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
_________________________</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He practically booked a plane ticket the night I told him what S.B. had done. </div>
LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165787412368380845.post-87061176836155794772013-06-09T23:22:00.001-05:002013-06-09T23:22:12.842-05:00Have Your CakeShe gripped the railing and spoke to her left hand.<br />
<br />
<i>Maybe next time I should leave it at home.</i><br />
<br />
I glanced at her ring finger, but said nothing. I already knew she was bothered.<br />
<br />
As we poured out of the dance club, sultry on sexual overtone, we politely declined offers for an extended evening. Beyond steamy smoke and mirrors, I assured ambitious amateurs that our phone numbers would do them no good.<br />
<br />
A few steps away, Laila was exposed under the jaundiced glow of a street lamp. The multifaceted cut so carefully selected for her would glimmer under even the grimiest bulb.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T1cjQcfGsqQ/UbVRkfTdc5I/AAAAAAAAAtA/M6PV2k6t4XA/s1600/laila's+ring+bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T1cjQcfGsqQ/UbVRkfTdc5I/AAAAAAAAAtA/M6PV2k6t4XA/s1600/laila's+ring+bw.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><i>Man, don't waste your time. She's married. </i><br />
<br />
The corners of her smile fell a little.<br />
Anyone could see this was new to her.LuLuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07206852688005295433noreply@blogger.com5