Sometimes you have to accept that it’s over.

It happened

It ended

She’s still there, but you’re not.

Sometimes you have to be the bad guy.

Even if you weren’t

Maybe you were

In someone else’s eyes.

Sometimes you have to let it go.

Let love die

Even if it never really lived

Because sometimes that’s just the way it is.

“I’ll miss you,” she said.

He looked at her and barely crooked the corner of his mouth as he said, ” people usually do.”


That dab of perfume on your wrist never seemed like much.  How could it?  It was just this tiny little drop that you rubbed between your wrists.  But that’s all it took.  That sweet scent.  That delicious smell.  You have me hooked.

I can’t wait to take your hand and pull it to me.  Pull your wrist up to my lips and give it a kiss.  Let the smell intoxicate me.  Ravish you.

I’m the bee and you’ve got the honey.

Are we worth it?

“Do you ever think we remember this as better than it actually was?”  He said carelessly as he lounged with his legs hanging over the arm of the couch.

“What do you mean?”  She didn’t really hear the content but knew how to answer.

“Us.  Together.  Do you ever think we just think we work when we don’t?”

She heard those words, “you don’t think we work?”

“I didn’t say that.  I was just wondering if we think we we’re better than we actually are?”

“Why do you ask?”

“We break up.  We get back together.  We break up.  Now here we are, in the process of getting back together.”

“We’re getting back together now?”

He laughed and said in a slow singing voice, “we could be together, if you wanted to.”

She smirked and ran her finger behind her ear, pulling her loose strands of hair with it.

“Mmhmm,” was all she said.

He tilted his head on the couch cushion and looked in her direction.  She was leaned on the table and looking out through the window into the darkness.  The reflection of the streetlights showed a hazy, broken reflection of her face.  Picasso must have been in between the fragments of light.

She was wonderful at killing a conversation.  She was also wonderful at turning it into something different.  Something more.  Something with less words.  Words weren’t always what they were made out to be and she worked between in looks, glances and stares.  A finger running along her thigh or lips hovering just away from your ear.  Words weren’t her forte, but she didn’t need them.

He stared at her a little longer as she looked away, waiting for her to turn back.  There was never a sign if she would or not.  He’d always wonder.  She might turn and smile and invite him in.  She might keep looking out the window contemplating the night, or she might turn and smile at him and beckon him to her.  He never knew and he loved it.

That’s what made it worth it.

I love the way you look in that dress

You always had amazing legs.  I would tell you all the time you need to wear dresses more.  It was selfish of course.  I just liked to stare at your legs all the way up until they disappeared under your dress.

That dress tonight though, it looks especially good on you.  It’s the right length between your hips and your knees.  It’s bright and eye-catching with a scoop neck to show off some cleavage.  I’ve always been more visual than anything else.  Now all I want to be is physical.

There are so many things I’d love to do to you and with you.  All of them involve that dress.  Most of them involve it being ripped off, pulled down or pushed up your body.

I love seeing you in a dress.
I’m sorry if I’m staring.
I just can’t help myself.


Every limb is sore.

My muscles burn.

My arms ache.

My lips sting.

I can’t walk straight.

You’ve given me a limp.

You’ve destroyed me

in the most wonderful way.

Sometimes when I see you right out of the shower I want to kiss you hard against the wall until the steam settles and your hair dries.