Tag: love

He paced all morning, never far from the window – stopping every three or four times around to peer out, stretching his eyes for a glimpse of her, but she was never there. When he tried to write to her even that didn’t work; what he settled on at last was writing simply “Your Valentine loves you” before he folded the scrap of paper and pushed it through the bars, to drift like a butterfly to the ground outside far below.

Sweat glistened on bodies joined in carnal dance, trickled over softly rounded landscapes, dipped into secret valleys, while the frenzy increased. After echoes of the last soaring crescendo diminished, the slickened bodies separated, heartbeats slowed, and passion cooled the weeping love had ignited.

I met a beautiful woman today, twice: the first time she kissed me and warned of impending doom; the second she had no idea who I was.

I have to figure this out, before it kills me.

It was hard for her when, in all their fashionably bohemian passions, they spoke of love, for she, too, had much to say on the matter. But how could she have told them that she was in love with words?

I met my husband at the circus and he was not a silly clown or an arrogant lion tamer or even an overly muscled trapeze man.

He owned the arena and I fell for him immediately.

As he adjusted the cumberbund on his tuxedo, he thought of her, how they’d known her all his life, been in love with her for most of it, and what a great wife she was going to be. He straightened his tie, opened the door, and walked down the stairs where his best friend greeted him with, “Ready to go be my best man?”

With his belly full and his bladder empty, he sits there in the blanket nest I meticulously crafted for him in the center of my bed, smug as I leave for work. Surely he was napping even before I made to the car.

I was so intent on staring at Tina Miller, with her blond hair and cheerleader body, that I failed to notice the open locker and I was knocked to the floor.

A mousy girl helped me pick up my books and took me to the nurse to treat the gash on my forehead, and that was how I met your mom.

I feel my teeth try to bite the wall while i silently scream.
I love her.

She was barely seventeen and had seen more pain than most. But when he looked into her eyes, all he saw there was gratitude.

He came dangerously close to destroying his world by continuously rebuilding it around hers. But in the blindness of devotion and obsession, the blindness of love, he could not see the falling night of his sanity and freedom.

I have wronged every person that I have ever known and she is the only one of them that stood by me. I’m looking into the eyes of my last believer.

With eyes closed, languidly resting against the chaise, anticipating her companion’s next move; she hoped for something sweet, whispered flirtations, invitations for a rendezvous or four, and the indirect promise of a romance.
With eyes open, lids heavy, body leaning against hers, showering sweet kisses along her neck, and across her jawline, he hoped that his camouflaged words of sensual promise also conveyed to her the promise of more to come; a future.