LT

...his dependency had ceased to be an act of free will . She owned him. Sex was her art, passion, the paint palette... Ginger walks the streets leaving a trail of broken men behind her. She is an acquired taste but good for their body and soul. Her curves, the forgiveness to their debauchery. The first shot of her essence burns them like a sip of overproof rum. There is magic to her aura and logic to her choices. Yet, with all the chaos prior, during and post her arrival, the

Melancholy was her new companion, crafting memories that will keep her silent and unmoving... One night long before their commitment to each other, and many conversations of going their separate ways. She asked him what it would take for him to set her free. Her heart was tired of disappointments, mixed signals and his dread of commitment. His response was cold, rehearsed and untouched by feeling. “Speaking about our ending is like speaking about your death.” The heaviness i

I barely make it past the door, when I fall to my knees and begin to weep. I cry for him, myself, but mostly for us. ...Truth steps out from between the lines of my story. It grins at me and I smile back. As he sits there, driving himself crazy, thinking he caused a great wound in me. I sit and write these words. A confession he will never know about... It was me who played him while we were together. It was me who betrayed him first... Day One My stomach is in knots as I wal

Tayra sat in the hospital room, hoping her eyes closed and she'd fall asleep. Desperate to feel once more the dreaded daily routine. Wake up to her son sleeping past 10a.m.. Her lecture loud enough to wake him. It was frustrating to watch a young man with potential waste his life in retail jobs. Although she can't help but feel guilt for his current state. Poor judgement in men, amplified evidence he grew up with the silence of an absent father. It was torturous for her to wi