once bitten never shy

the blood dried on my chin leaving flakey streaks like cheap crayola knockoffs

Cover my Eyes

ancient messages of lives past

supple flesh turned to bible page skin

softened slide show of dead cells

cotton sheets and bar soap

whispered truths

unanswered prayers

comforted psyche

medicated soul

muted conscience

are the whispers in the darkness messages from the divine

To have and to hold down...

Song of the Day:: Amy Winehouse - Back to Black

Quote of the Day:: "Murder is born of love, and love attains the greatest intensity of murder."--Octave Mirbeau

" "No 'pretty white' dresses for me thanks,"

"Well, you're getting one."

"fuck."

"It will be your day" they all tell me. Now I just need to find a dress that tastefully shows off my cleavage and can hide a Desert Eagle strapped to my thigh. Weddings.

Ok lets go down the checklist:

Something old- My vintage Lincoln Town Car convertible Check.

Something new - The passport in my purse Check.

Something borrowed - The one hundred and twenty eight million in my safety deposit box in Switzerland I swear I'll give it back,Check.

Something blue - The body of my fiance's mistress in the trunk of my car Definite Check.

Ah yes the life of the Business Man's Wife, who would have thought it would come to this. And to think, a year ago life was just so...nice. I guess I spoke too soon.

William Borden is my fiance, and Im in love. Yay me. What more could any girl want? Oh thats right, fidelity. I'd like to think i was smarter than that, but I wasn't. I enjoyed every second with William, the quick wit, the intelligent meaningful conversation, and that oh so dirty Rhett Butler dirty grin that made even the strongest of wills strongest of skirts go crawling up your thighs. He was a delightful change of pace from the average guy who either was so polite he never touched you or gnawed at your bra straps every time you were halfway through a glass of cabernet.

for you.

A supple discourse

A clouded blossom

An unblemished apology

Candy coated lust

The sumptuous taste

of kisses and lies

anything for you.

Love, Lust, and Lolli-pops

I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. He held me, held me close, and ever so delicately kissed me on the lips. It felt like someone stomping on my heart. The tears in my eyes just kept coming. Down my temples they burned as he kissed me in that dark cool room. Why is it always fear intermingled with love? Why couldn't I kiss him and believe that he wanted me, believe that I would be the only one to have him this way, well, at least the last anyway.

I let a sob slip. So much for fucking composure.

Even in the darkness I knew he was looking at me like I was from another planet. The last time I cried in front of someone their response was "I didn't even know you could cry."

What is it about a supportive embrace that makes the strongest of people break down and cry like lost children? I cried, and cried. And cried. Silent, ashamed of his understanding. And then, it wouldn't stop. I cried for hours, my face sore and hot. The room smelled of understanding and fresh laundry. Something that just seemed to comfortable to last. He just held me. Told me "maybe you just need a good cry."

I love you sweetness.

What if, out there, there is a pill version of love. Would there be worse side affects then what they call "real love?" The palpitations, shortness of breath, blushing of the cheeks, dilation of pupils, those are all natural. Right?

Or maybe, do you think people can just run out of love for someone? Is it possible, not really get bored of someone, but just have nothing left to give? There is always something, be it kindness, or courtesy, tenderness or comfort, there are ways to give without loving right?

Maybe if I say it over and over again to you I can believe it again.

Maybe I'm not the problem. Maybe Ive just heard it so many times from you that Its lost all meaning. Its the rumor everyone has already heard. The secret spilled into sunlight. The shooting star that no one saw.

Memories can be a bitch.

"Do you ever miss it?" she asked me.
It was like i couldn't breathe.
"I mean do you?" she asked again
"Well, *sigh* when you give your heart to someone, you always think its the only thing you've ever wanted to do." I feel the tears well up in my eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said, "maybe Santa will bring you a new one."
"Ok baby, lets hope you're right, maybe Santa will bring me a new one." Something about the optimism of a child can tear down the last bit of hope you have left while at the same time almost make you believe in Santa again. There was a hollow tragedy to the fact that it was only April.


I think God put pheromones on this planet just to punish me.

I didn't really miss the love. I said I did, but, I didn't. In a lot of ways I really didn't want him to love me, I missed the lust. The passion. The sweaty maddening passion that left you exhausted, bruised, sore, and satisfied. I missed his hands on me. Pulling at me, ripping my clothes, the squeezes, the slaps, everything that would or could make me blush.

All of the things I was willing to burn for. All of the things All of the things I couldn't tell anyone. All of the things that my body fiended for. The raw, rough, animal nature of it all, gone. Faded like a tattoo, still there in spots, not quite the same vibrancy or sharpness. I missed the bruises on my inner thighs and hips, the bite marks on my neck, the taste of blood when he kissed me hard.

The bare truth stood naked unashamed.

I wrapped my lips around the hard candy, exploring its surface with my tongue. The sticky sweetness on my lips, the glassy feel of the candy. The way it clacked against my teeth. I sat, staring out the window, from behind my dark glasses watching you.

Wondering how you would kiss me, would it be sweet, would it be hard and hot. Would you suck the candy from my lips? A hand upon my thigh, a hand wound in my hair, the sudden lust for submission. The savage claiming of my mouth.

I feel the all too familiar ache slither up my spine, heating my blood to a boil, your words dissolved into my skin, sugary sweet and numbing.

Is it a crime?

Faith

((http://e-merl.com/index.php))

faith /feɪθ/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[feyth] Pronunciation Key –noun

1.	confidence or trust in a person or thing: faith in another's ability.

2.	belief that is not based on proof: He had faith that the hypothesis would be substantiated by fact.

3.	belief in God or in the doctrines or teachings of religion: the firm faith of the Pilgrims.

4.	belief in anything, as a code of ethics, standards of merit, etc.: to be of the same faith with someone concerning honesty.

5.	a system of religious belief: the Christian faith; the Jewish faith.

6.	the obligation of loyalty or fidelity to a person, promise, engagement, etc.: Failure to appear would be breaking faith.

7.	the observance of this obligation; fidelity to one's promise, oath, allegiance, etc.: He was the only one who proved his faith during our recent troubles.

8.	Christian Theology. the trust in God and in His promises as made through Christ and the Scriptures by which humans are justified or saved.

—Idiom

9.	in faith, in truth; indeed: In faith, he is a fine lad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you ever wonder if it hurt? If it was a truly painful experience, the fall I mean. Or was it like when your parents ground you. If you think about it that had to be the ultimate parental grounding of all existence.

Tastes of strawberries

Temptation is something you have to take with a grain of salt. Otherwise there is no reluctance to give in, no conscience, no threat of perdition. There are the lives we wanted. The lives we lead. The lives that will be torn to paper dolls if all you do is say yes. Its acceptance that gets you in the end. What Saint Peter will tell you at the gates after he says your home is no longer here.

Temptation tastes of strawberries, did you know that? That soft passivity, the luscious yielding of delicate flesh, only sins can taste this good.