It was spring when she met him. He smiled at her when she made a joke. They shared a few conversations in the weeks that followed and she began to look forward to seeing him.

When he asked her out, she said yes, reluctantly. Dating had never been her thing. He laughed and told her it was only drinks, not a marriage proposal.

Summer was touching the earth when he proposed. The sweat of sex still clinging to him. He swore he loved her like he had loved no other. She swallowed her fear and said yes. They held each other like tomorrow could never touch them.

The chill of fall was on the wind when she felt him move away from her. The child inside her moved and she cried for what might not be. She bled and he promised to be with her forever.

Winter froze the ground when she knew he was gone. No more long nights talking, no more casual caresses or whispered words of love. Lies leaked from his mouth, running like acid into her.

Spring came again when the child arrived. Bright and beautiful, coloring her world with meaning. She held him and promised his life would be good. She looked at the man she had thought was good and felt the sorrow leach her strength.

Summer came again and she knew he did not care. No loving touches, no small remembrances. Only more acrid lies. They acrved her apart. He only looked through her, not caring for her pain.

It was fall again when they found her. Body broke, torn apart. All she had left was a simple shred of paper, what remained of his only love letter.

Better to die a broken body, a broken heart takes to long.
as i sat watching myself
i knew where i had strayed
as i sat listening to myself
i knew where i had fallen

i curled up tight
i cried a tear or two
i stretched myself
and found the end

mottled colors against
my background stain
i found the center
and I gripped
it tight
held it to me like
a child

broken sentences
puncuated with pain
cries of
torment in time with
a heartbeat long forgotten

I need a watch.I hate not knowing what time it is. Sitting and staring. Wondering," Am I late, or am I early?" Not that I'm, particularly good at waiting to begin with, 'cuz I'm not. I suck at it. I shift. I pace. I get annoyed. And I seem to be in a perpetual state of waiting.Waiting for payday. Waiting for work to end. Waiting for him to call. Waiting for the bus. Waiting for sleep to come. Waiting..... always waiting. It's just so anti-climatic. Because finally payday does come. And work is over. And he does call. And the bus arrives. And sleep comes. And then what? Where are all the bells and whistles that reward us for the hours we wasted.....waiting. For the days, weeks, months....hell, even years of limitless patience and fortitude? Quietly sitting, not complaining. There are none. You pay the bills. You go home. You talk for a minute. You get on the bus. You dream for a moment. And then?Back to waiting.It's like waiting to die. Just moving through life with no real destination. I get tired of it. I step out of line.Do something new. Anything new. Never helps, doesn't change it. There's still more waiting.Waiting for the color to take. For the polish to dry. For the movie to start. For dinner to get done. For that new book to come in.Always waiting for something.Damn.......I really need a watch.

better than a kiss

over one finger
through the others
twining in and twirling over
sliding up and around

slithering against my fingers

lifting moving
a living thing
like silk across
naked skin

pulling it taut
remebering the hands
fingers forced through
tugging hard
chin lifted
neck exposed

just before the bite came

better than a kiss.......