Warmth

1 a.m. Wednesday night, she finally hit the light switch. Lying there, she knew. Any doubt from her mind expelled; every barrier she built razed. Her bedside prayers replaced with pleas to the heavens to give her peace from the brilliant torment, but rest would only allow her unforgiving subconscious wild pursuit. She was consumed by the touch, the taste, in every sense. To any onlooker and even in her own introspection, she was insane.
A few years prior, she had been anonymous like most people of their early teens. Exposed to a plethora of opportunity, each of which she either declined or failed. She needed a dose of validation and identity. From her insecurities, she grew, not stronger but thicker. Every day a new skin she wore like a coat, protecting herself from the outside she had become too afraid to tackle. Comfortable and warm inside herself, it was at this distance she could handle interaction. She played games. Toying with people, teasing them, playing an infinite game of playground tag. Pretend was her favorite game of course when she wore her coat. People were games. Each game she grew weary of.
Then, she met you. It wasn’t magic or some serendipitous event, as a romantic might dream. Perhaps at the most, a series of chain reactions when put together made a miraculous chemical potency. They asked her why and she couldn’t form the words. It all jumbled together in the moment mincing her vocabulary into that of three words, “I don’t know”. Of course, she did know but how on Earth could it all be expressed. Could she acceptably dissolve it into one word and say, “Everything”?
When the both of your eyes lock, she felt words lost all value.
When you envelope her in your arms, her chest floods with warmth.
When you talk to her so gently, she listens in vibrant colors.
When you’re with her, the world melts away.
Although she may be mad, she’s finally at peace. Her coat, her shelter she has grown up with has been dissembled. And like a rebirth, she finds herself radiating in her new, pure porcelain skin. However, she's no longer afraid. Your embrace protects her, keeps her warm.
She imagines you next to her as she tries to sleep Wednesday night… all rest easy.

A Problem Child

I’m lucky to say you, Love, have always been in my life. Every day since we’ve become acquainted, I’ve felt obligated to nurture and protect you –not without some struggles of course. See, you’re the fickle child no mother can please. Without any promises of reciprocation, I offer you my most valued possession to satisfy your hunger. Hunkering down at my kitchen table, you begin to eat, and I begin to wonder when your ravenous appetite will cease. I’ve witnessed what happens to the others like me. You follow them –making sure to trace every step with care so they will praise you. Then one day, you leave. Sometimes they won’t notice for a while, until they eventually glance over their shoulder only to find an empty road. Nevertheless, people always want you.
More recently, I hear you clacking at my bedroom window. Since I figure myself smarter than the rest of the names on your list, I urge you, “Not tonight, not again”. Regardless, you find your way in anyways cleverly unscrewing the locks I put on the pane yesterday. But nothing annoys me more than when you watch me as I climb into bed. You sit there beaming, your bright eyes glowing in their sockets as if you’re plugged into the electrical outlet, your sweet and sinister smile engrained in my mind. My bedside prayers replaced with pleas to the heavens to give me peace from the brilliant torment, but rest would only allow my unforgiving subconscious wild pursuit. To any onlooker and even in my own introspection, I had become insane, all thanks to you.
Then you gaze at me with those innocent blue eyes, entrancing me within your words, “I need you; the night is lonesome and frightening”. I think of all the wonderful hours we spent together and start to shed tears. You hold my hand hesitantly, quite unaware and naïve of how to proceed. Despite how much I’d like to be rid of you and your chaotic nature, I will never be able to. So instead, I settle down in my bed and learn to appreciate you in the present. All I can do is hope you will not get hungry any time soon for I have nothing left to offer.

Willie & To Whom It May Concern

Never once did he sleep in that dog house. I wondered why we even bought it. Probably it was for show, like lugging home a ten pound bag of food from Petco over the shoulder without a cart or anything. A cart would have been easier, but in all actuality it was just to be seen carrying home Eukanuba across the parking lot. But maybe we bought that plastic piece of shit because of he loved being outside. I know, mostly all dogs love being outside, but he wouldn’t even go inside at first. When we brought him home from Desoto that night, he just plopped himself down inside the 12 inch hole inside the gardening hose. He was an awfully cute puppy; soft auburn fur, little white strip down his nose, and those eyes. He had the prettiest amber eyes. The first few months, my parents had trouble putting the camera down to say the least. But he was more than puppy dog eyes, he was behaved too. The first car ride home he didn’t yelp or whine, didn’t piss all over the Jimmy, he just sat their quietly as if contemplating the universe not even moving an inch. This little car ride was made into a legend at family gatherings by my mom along with the “how Kelley and him chose each other” story. My mom and dad, always so proud of him. When I tell Willie “I’ll be back” he just lies down, they would say, and then he’ll jump all over me when I come home.
He did jump a lot. A petite five year old like me at the time was an easy target; I’d just fall like a domino against his lean body. Whenever he contracted those legs, I learned to stay out of the way. Deer! Springing up like a gazelle, his back legs looked like they were in a race against each other as he’d zoom from pavement to grass. Ears perked up and eyes consumed with raw excitement, he’d run into the woods, fearless.
I used to play with him on the deck when we were younger. I remember ripping the squirrel out of his mouth and throwing it over the green roof of the doghouse; he’d catch it and run away, asking me to chase after him. After a few years later, I got tired. The game had just gotten too immature for me, too childish. A couple runs around the couch, he’d be hiding behind the ottoman waiting for me again, wagging his little brown nub, the little squirrel’s rangy head peeping through his mouth. I would just look at him, smiling as if it made it all better, and walked downstairs. No “I quit” or anything, just a stupid smile. I stepped on the second stair and looked back; he was still waiting for me, stretching out onto his back legs, eyes eager. Yet, I took another step and another, and gradually he faded out of view.
Now, I regret it. Now, I wish I would have taken a step up instead of down. Now, I wish I would’ve grabbed that squirrel by the head and pulled it out of your mouth just to throw it one more time. One more run around the couch. One more wet sandpapery kiss that you gave out so richly. I promise I won’t take any of it for granite this time.
There were so many more things I wanted us to do. I wanted us to be closer. You and I on my bed all night with the windows open so we could listen to the wind and you would rest your head on my lap as I’d put my fingers through your hair. I would comfort you when there was a storm. But you didn’t like the basement, and I was too tired.
You’re so weak now. I’m afraid to even touch your fragile body, so boney and hollow. Your cancer took us by shock. The doctor said it could have sprung up over night, and all I kept thinking about was your back legs springing up like a gazelle just a month ago chasing the mouse that lives under the basketball hoop. Just six months ago, I didn’t think it could be your last Christmas or your last Easter in April. Even three weeks ago, I didn’t even think it could be your last weekend at the lake.
Before you leave, I just want you to know I have learned so much from you the past 11 years. I’m so envious of your excitement for each day, even if your only plan is a five hour nap at 1. And I can’t help but admire your strength, especially when you can’t even stand on those back legs anymore. I know it kills you. Most of all, I’m in awe of your compassion. Protecting me even when I turned my back on you. Just forgiving and loving me again.
Wherever you go, know that I’ll be back and I love you.

Love Bites

I sat on the porch that night wondering if she’d come home. I didn’t mean to hurt her, I swear. A mosquito buzzed in my ear; with a swift motion I swatted it away, but it kept coming back. “Go ahead!” I told the bug still hovering over my ripe earlobe. After contemplation, the mosquito left. It knew my hand was fully capable of killing. The endeavor was much too risky. He’ll come back though; I said to myself, they all do.
I still remember the way she left. First, I heard her suitcase shut. It didn’t close all the way, though (carried her emotions everywhere). “I’ll find you,” I said as she locked the suitcase. She said nothing only slamming the screen door on her way out. As she left, I saw a bruise on her hip. Quickly, I looked away. What kind of animal would do that to her? She’s so young. She’s so beautiful. I wanted to punch the guy in face that abused her like that, but I couldn’t very well punch myself (I’ve tried though). I knew it was bad, but I was crazy for her and she misused me. She threw me around like the recycle; never really understanding me. She hurt me.
I decided I should go inside. There was no use in waiting. I’ve suffered many loses in my time and each seemingly greater than the last. All I could do now is learn from my mistakes. “Ouch!” I yelped. I raised my hand to the source finding a bump on my left earlobe. I knew he’d come back, but I never thought he’d arrive now! Oh well, I’m sure the itch will go away in a bit.