Anticipation is a trillion bubbles ( Read more... )

“Priss,” “prude,” “goody-goody ( Read more... )

Who am I ( Read more... )

Pears squeezed and smashed
Juices dripping down white satin
Staining with sweet spots
Where white soaks itself with
Pear juice smells like
Incense, old and musty
Burning eyes that cry
Smashed pears

The neighborhood at 5:00 is boring. Little kids, very few, are out playing basketball, creating a sound much like Chinese water torture. Everyone else is home, watching television I suppose. A few are coming home, driving at 20 miles per hour down the quiet street, careful to watch out for children. No one ever stays outside long. They come ( Read more... )

I think sometimes you are too quiet ( Read more... )

Who was she? 'Woman,' that was all she was ever known by. He watched his little dancer - watched her rub her knee, fasten her stockings, rub her back. She inspired him to greater heights. Her ecstasy and the sheer pleasure she got from dancing drew him to her time and again. He loved his little dancer. She was flawless in his eyes. The ( Read more... )

I cried pillows soaked tissues scattered ( Read more... )

You were more than my boyfriend ( Read more... )

Thunderstorms are an almost religious experience. Rain pitters patters outside in a soft fall ( Read more... )