Way Back #3

This one’s about a girl.  Go figure.  Even 10 years ago I was still pining.


How bad do you want me to see your smile
You don’t even have to ask
Just promise not to take it away.
Of all that is forgotten
your lips perched in a smirk wont be
flower in your hair
draped in white
later, all eyes on you
a question
an answer
an offer rejected
an ego denied
a mistake made
how do you apologize
for something you knew you couldn’t do
how do you fix something
when you’re not sure how it broke
or if it ever worked right at all

29 hours away

I’ll never know you.  I’ll never see you.  I’ll never shake your hand or look into your eyes while you look into mine.  It was never going to happen anyway but it was nice to dream on.  I was realistic though and had never even contemplated it.  Us meeting was merely a funny thing to talk about while we were enjoying each others company.

You would place your lips on mine with your arms rested on my shoulders and stretched out straight behind my back.  Your hands dangling in the air while your fingers intertwined like a spider climbing its web.

Smiles didn’t hang around on your face for long.  They were a strand of hair that escaped.  You’d realize the mistake and quickly curl the hair behind your ear and drop your lips to your famous stare.  I could die in that stare.

I’ve never looked at a girl with the kind of mystery that you held while at the same time feeling like I knew what was behind them.  You were always the duck on the pond.  The tip of the iceberg.  You stared so you wouldn’t give anything away but every time you did I knew there was something.

My hands always settled on your hips and moved from there.  Sometimes up your back to pull you close and other times they drifted inside your waistline to feel the skin to sensitive for societies view.  Your teeth on my lip was like dessert before the meal.  It made me so hungry that I’d ask for all three courses at once.

And we’d fuck too.  It would be hard and full of passion.  My waves would crash onto your shore and the water would erode away any resemblance of individuality and we would just be us.  We would be alone against each other and there wasn’t anything else in the world that mattered.  These moments were weaved in and out of our days together while our nights were spent laughing and carrying on like it would never end.

You pulled away.  I don’t blame you for anything else other than this.  All of the explosions and ruination were my fault, but you pulled away.  I know why but I’ll never really know.  We’ll never talk again.  You’ll never answer.  That 29 hours between us will feel like its so much longer than a day.  That day will turn into forever and a memory of someone I loved, and I’m not even sorry I said it.

Serial Lit: The Origins Of My Love For Your Smirk – Part 1

She’s becoming my obsession.  She shouldn’t be, I have a girlfriend but I guess that’s what makes it an obsession.  It doesn’t matter though I can’t keep Enne out of my mind.  I’ll take a moment in my car in the morning before work and tell myself “not today.”  That determination crumbles the second I see her.  I’ll say hi and she politely returns the gesture but nothing more.  Nowhere near the way we used to talk.  Not even before we became close.  I just listen to her most days now and try not to get caught staring.

It’s harder to feed the obsession lately though.  She doesn’t say much anymore to anyone.  Its like she’s hollow or hidden.  This makes it worse for me as I’m left to reminisce and all of those feelings come rushing back.  The way she smiled.  The way she laughed.

I wasn’t even supposed to be talking to her.   I put her on off limits.  When I met Bernie I told myself I was going to be good for once.  I was going to dedicate myself to her and give it everything I had.  No more casual flirting with other girls.  No more trying to see how far I could take a conversation.  Bernie was the only one I needed.

To this point Enne and I had only had a few lightly flirtatious conversations.  I complimented her wardrobe and she would call me the fashion police with a devilish smile.  She would tell me a certain color looked good on me and I would ask her how long she’s been paying attention.  We would both get a cursory laugh and go about our business.  But when I met Bernie and my attention on her waned she noticed.  She would make it a point to seek me out and make small talk.  She would wait for me to leave at the end of the day and walk out with me or if I wasn’t leaving she would wait around and poke and prod me into conversation.

Slowly, all of the time spent together made me want more of her.  She was like a subliminal message telling me I needed her around.  She was gorgeous, playful, smart and could keep my interest better than anyone I had ever known.

Bernie was like that as well, but she had moved eight hours south to LA for school.  We saw each other every weekend but she was beginning to get possessive.  Whenever I would mention one of my female friends she would make a face as if she had just sucked on a lemon and interrupt to change the subject.  She would occasionally ask me why I was still friends with these other girls and tell me to stop talking to them because she didn’t like them.  Enne pressing for my attention just made things more chaotic.

“So, do you talk with any girls you work with?”  Bernie would ask me.

“Well not outside of normal courtesy.  I don’t flat out ignore them when they talk directly to me but I don’t bring anything up to engage a conversation in.”  I’d smile at the end and make eye contact as if it was a casual response and not something I’d over thought.  I wanted to seem natural as the less suspicious she was the better our weekends together were.  Of course it was a lie, all of it.  I did try to do what I said but I couldn’t resist Enne.

I had only known Bernie a few months before she had to leave for school.  We promised that one of us would drive to see the other every second weekend.  We were doing really well despite the distance.  It had been a month since she left and we had only seen each other the one weekend.  It was my turn to drive down the next day so I was trying to get as much work done as possible so I could leave early.  Enne had seemed to start noticing that I was paying less attention to her and was loitering around the foyer waiting to see when I would go.  When she figured I wasn’t leaving she came back in and said she couldn’t find her phone.

“No, sorry.  I haven’t seen it.”  I told her as I looked under my desk as if it had magically fallen there somehow.  I was courteous but uninviting as I had been with her for the past couple of months.  She stood at the desk next to mine for a moment before whipping her purse around and muttering to herself.  “Let me check in here one more time.  I’m going to feel so stupid if…”  She sighed.  I don’t know if she thought she was convincing or not but it was cute watching her try, I caught myself staring and pulled it in before she noticed.  I dove back into my work and listened as she groaned while pulling her phone out of her purse like a rabbit from a top hat.

“I’m sorry I came in and bothered you.  I can be such a ditz sometimes.”

“No problem,” I responded without looking in her direction.

“So,” she began as her ploy didn’t seem to get me as interested in her as she wanted.  She paused as if she was trying to think of something to say.  “What’re you hanging around so late for?  Don’t want to go home?”  She flashed one of her most catching attributes with the question, a wide smirk.  Her smile was gorgeous but when she crooked the corner of her lip up into a smirk you couldn’t help but engage her.  She drew you in and you couldn’t help yourself.

I looked up at her smirking down at me still.  It’s as if she was saying “Well, what do you got?  Give me your best comeback.”  “No, not that.”  I smiled but felt it necessary to respond further.  I couldn’t just leave it at that.  Her smirk now fading to a closed lip smile.  Her lips are perfect.  “I was just in the mindset to finish this and I didn’t want to break it.”  “Oh?” she continued to pull the rope attached to my tongue.  “Why not just hurry home and think about it on the way?  I think much better at home than this stuffy office.”

“I wanted to relax tonight.  When I get home I lik everything to be done.  Plus I wouldn’t be able to think in the car.  I like to sing along to the radio.”  The last part I didn’t mean to say, it just kind of slipped out.  I didn’t want to make this a friendly conversation just an explanation, but she forced me to engage her with her charm.

The look on her face was  of amazement.  “You sing?  Oh my god you have to sing for me now!”  I did a face palm in my head.  “Now?  I can’t now.  There’s no music.”  She whipped her phone out of her purse and grinned as she shook it.  “But we’re in a library,” I quickly responded.  “Plus I only sing in the car or alone.  It’s not like I’m any good or anything.”  She put her phone away and looked at me with her smile now beaming.  “Well you have to.”  “Why?” I wondered, genuinely interested in why she was so hell bent on getting me to sing.

“Because” she responded.  “My dad used to sing to my sister and I when we were little.  We would get so excited when a fun song came on the radio.”  She turned away just a little and stared out towards the window.  Her smile dimmed a bit as she spoke and reminisced of her dad when she was little.  “Then when a slow song came on that he liked my sister and I would often just listen to him serenade our mom or us.  I miss that.”  She looked back to me, vulnerable and so beautiful right at that moment.

“But I’m really not any good.  I just like to do it for me.”  I tried to say this in the nicest way possible.  “I don’t care” her face lit up again at the continued challenge of getting me to do what she wanted.  “You have to.  My dad wasn’t good either.  It was about the fun.  Joe won’t sing, ever, so you have to.”  My expression changed from wonder to confused, “who’s Joe?”  “Joe is my fiance” she said.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a fiance.”

“Why would you” she said, the smirk appearing again.  “Yeah, I guess if I never asked how would I know?”  I looked down, almost embarrassed that I asked at all.  I tried another tactic to get out of the singing for her, “but when would I even be able to sing?”

“I guess you’ll have to take me somewhere for lunch sometime if you only do it in your car.”  She popped up from leaning on the desk.  “Next week” she grinned.

Its as if she had been planning this the whole time.  I sat amazed and dizzy from her getting me to take her out to lunch without even knowing it.  She waved as she left and pranced out triumphantly.  I looked down at my desk and thought to myself “fuck…”  I decided to put it off until tomorrow and head home.  I didn’t want to tell her I was going to see my girlfriend in LA this weekend.  Enne doesn’t know about her and I was starting to think I wanted to keep it that way.

for another time:  I’ve always thought that a certain someone doesn’t exist that makes you forget about everyone else.  That it was a character flaw of people, me included, that always had that wandering eye and no woman was good enough to keep its gaze.  I needed to try to focus on someone who deserved it.  I needed to put effort into making them the only one I saw, but then I met you.  I met you and I didn’t have to try anymore.I had

I had originally started this years ago.  I had a different wordpress blog that didn’t go exactly the way I wanted so I started fresh with this one.  There’s another part to this story that I haven’t found yet.  I thought I’d add it in here and when/if I find the other part maybe even continuing it at some point.

But I hate wasting writing.  I’ve done that so often.  I wanted to rescue this, even if it is very rough around the edges.


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To the girl with the dark hair I saw in the grocery store last weekend

A real life Mona Lisa,

with a smirk on the corner of her lips.

Barely there.

Why was she smiling?

I guess I’ll never know.


I was mesmerized by a girl last Saturday.  I ran into a store to pick up a few things, of which I only got one, and as I was making my way to the check out lane I saw her.  If I didn’t have more control of my faculties I would have dropped my mouth open a little and muttered a delightfully surprised word to myself along the lines of damn or jesus. 

I only caught a glance of her before I had to divert my attention because it felt like I was staring.  She couldn’t have been much more than twenty-five-years old and the top of her head barely would’ve peaked above my chin if we stood face to face.  What caught my attention first, though, was her hair.  She looked like one of those flapper girls from the 1920’s minus the short skirt, but with the attitude intact.

She also had a smirk on her lips.  I don’t know if it was there before I noticed her but it was there after.  I felt like she knew exactly what I was thinking and couldn’t help but smile.  Kind of thinking, “yeah I know I look good.”

Her dark hair was the perfect contrast to her pale ivory skin.  It was as if you were driving through the greenest forest that ended on the shores of the ocean.  The whiteness along her shoulders and neck was captivating.  They were open to the air in her one-piece pin-stripped jumpsuit with the upper portion resembling a tank top.  Once again I had to look away.  My eyes continued to betray me and sneaked my glances back towards her.

I had to resist every urge to turn around and stare as I passed her.  There were no locking eyes and smiling.  I wanted to of course.  She was stunning.  It was even more difficult to resist turning to tell her how beautiful she was when she came up behind me in the checkout line with her two items; one I forget and the other must have been her lunch.  A container of salsa, sour cream and tortilla chips.

Of course I remember what she bought.  I looked at it as I put my plastic wrapped cheese on the belt.  Tilting my head as far to the left as I could without turning towards her.  I could have gone on about her beauty and told her how exquisite she looked.  But I didn’t want to ruin her day by possibly giving an unwanted compliment.  I’m sure I looked creepy enough trying not to stare.

She is worthy of having words written about her though.  Many words.  Hopefully she’s told them often.  Beauty deserves to be recognized and praised in all forms.  She is beauty.  She was my muse for a moment and hopefully more.  I’m sure I’ll never see her again but I’ll picture her and write as long as she lasts.

There are so many ways to write love

I enjoy writing about love and romance.  I like to see how far I can stretch out the feeling of kissing a girl’s lips or what it’s like to stare into her eyes until one of us blinks and turns away.  The feeling of my heart racing because she’s close to me is something I could have an unending supply of words for because if you can’t write about love how can you write about anything?

I could write about her hair.  How I like how it hangs down over her face.  The way my hand feels a need to curl it behind her ear so I can see both ends of her smile.  I could write about the different styles she has it in; straight and sleek, pulled into a cute ponytail, curly, wavy.  There are so many words I could write just about her hair that it would be too long yet not enough.

Or the feeling of my hand underneath her chin, raising it so I can lean down to kiss her lips and leave them there for a while.  There’s the way she walks and how she dresses.  The feeling of her fingers in mine or the sound of her breathing as she’s asleep.  The list of things to write about when you’re thinking of love is endless, that’s why its my favorite subject.  It doesn’t matter when or why, I could write a few lines of a strong feeling of love and enjoy how they string themselves together or how they make me remember.

It’s just usually just a flash of thought that brings it on.  A memory or a desire.  Sometimes its a picture, a word or a phrase.  The yearning of love never dies though.  The hunger for its feeling will always find its way back.