Showing posts with label 400. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 400. Show all posts

Saturday, July 20, 2019


There are lines you say because you are trying to say what is right according to everyone and the rules of society around you. Then of course, there is "the line" which is the thing you always wanted to say or do and it's the most authentic thing because you sincerely mean it, even if it's just something cheesy you say to break the ice. There's a lot of things people don't say when they get the chance. Someone asks me why? I don't know.  Human nature is really an interesting thing.

A quick digression...  I heard a story many years ago about a man that spent many years almost saying something to a woman he adored, but he would back out every time it would look as though he might. The man was someone rarely at a loss for words, yet he would get tongue tied and walk away. I'm not sure what he was afraid of. But I always wondered if he'd say the words. In my imagination she adored the man and felt the same so just maybe he'd say how he felt. Well when I began this idea, it started very differently and remained unwritten for quite a while... until now.

Yes, I've been writing and editing again, in character, which is really crazy & fun because there is a lot of light-hearted in addition to a lot of darkness. I'd like to release some books this summer and more this year. Maybe even this one, it's from Unwritten...

Kisses, m.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he says. After waiting nearly an hour from across the midsummer garden, he managed the courage to approach me.

With a smile and giggle, I nod encouraging him to speak but he seems discouraged.

“That didn’t work, did it?” Putting his head down, he starts to leave.

“Oh, but it did. You have my attention." I smile and reach for him to stay.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to say that to you.”

“Really. Were you were afraid?”

“Yes, I was afraid.”

“Afraid of me? Or what I might say?”

“Afraid of us and what we could become. Or that you’d laugh at me because you’d think it was just a line to get to you.”

“I did laugh. What does it matter if I think it is a line? Maybe I do.”

“You think I’m being insincere.”

“That’s not what I said. There is nothing wrong with telling a girl a line. It's as though you are knocking on her door or calling on the phone.”

Leaning in, he curiously asks, “Well, are you inviting me in? Or taking my call?”

Whispering in his ear, “I haven’t hung up or sent you away. Sit with me.” I motion him to sit with me on a bench.

“You’ve given me more than I could have expected.” He says blissfully as he sits next to me.

“Is this how you hoped it would go?”

“I couldn’t hope. To have any would have been to assume there was a possibility. I could only dream of such a thing.”

“To dream of possibility can be risky...” I wink and touch his hand.

Touching my hand back, he looks into my eyes and pauses before starting again. “The only danger in my dreams was that you might break my heart. These dreams I have are filled with a world where your eyes are the stars that guide me through the darkness and the people worship nightly when they twinkle.”

"My devoted admirer, you must be careful of placing me on a pedestal too high. You may never be able to reach me."

“You have my heart and you are my stars. I’ll find a way to reach you; Learn how to fly to be with you. What do you say?”

“Stay, I’ve always felt the same about you. Please tell me more.”

Tuesday, September 26, 2017


Hearts break and they also heal. Much like cuts and scrapes, a blow to the heart takes time to heal. Once it took my heart a few years to heal from the loss of love. My broken ribs healed in less time than my heart. Every now and then it pains my heart when I start to care for someone again but strengthing your heart is much like building up any muscle... you can't get results without putting in the work. You have to let love in and give love out. Here's a newer piece from Immersed... 

Have you ever had a broken heart? What helped it heal?

Kisses, m.


“Trust your heart.” He tells me. “Your eyes won’t always see the truth.”

There are times when people may seem friendly but they threaten all you hold dear. But he wasn’t one of them. From the moment we met he has been the best teacher I’ve known. His heart was open to mine without expectations or worry of what I should be.

Tonight as he inists that I do not owe him my heart, the rain pounds outside the windows and winds shake the trees reminding me of how we met…

A dark rainy evening brought me into his company.  Escaping the pain of another, I was making my way through a rainstorm. His bookstore had a light on, so I entered without hesitation. The rain masked my tears as I collected myself in the entry. He was in the back of the shop with another customer watching me shake the rain from my stockings and pull back my hair. I could see his pale blue eyes from where I stood and they were watching me. His stare wasn’t unpleasant or harsh. It was greeted with a smile before turning back to his business.  I could hear him give his pleasantries and turn back toward me. As he moved, it was as if time stopped as he walked toward me. My heart knew then before I did that I was in love with this man. 

Several special book orders later, he became my teacher giving me fiction I’d never heard of. Voraciously my appetite for knowledge was eager for more. Often I worried my hunger for more was too much for him but always he obliged my requests without question. Eventually he curiously asked to know of the hole in my heart that left me hungry.  When I told him of my wounded heart, the man that lied and left me empty, he shared his wisdom and past. Months grew to years as these things do and his words led to his hands that slowly did their work to mend my mind and soon enough my heart.

Times are hardest when you don’t know what to trust. My heart nearly whole by his healing hands and soul wants to belong to him, but there’s hesitation. It’s when I find myself doubtful that he tells me… “Trust your heart, my love” and I know with certainty that he already has mine.


Tuesday, July 25, 2017


All dreams are ageless. What you wanted as a teenager has no expiration as an adult. If you have a dream... keep holding on to your dreams tightly like you're hugging your lover and never let them go. 

Here's an old one about holding on tightly...

Do you have dreams from your teenage years?

Kisses, m.


Through the low lights of approaching evening we are two that become one. Hand in hand walking, our arms locked into each other while our feet match the same stride. The graceful descent of the sun cascades a shadow of lavender across the horizon and a slight chill to the air. The houses seem quieter and less than inviting to our passing steps. Our movements manage to dance in unison through this empty street alone without notice.

The silence that surrounds us sends him into a whimsical mood. With a slip of a hand his arm wraps over and around me with a spin stopping our forward pace. Closer he turns me again and again before taking me in. Hugging gently, his sliding arms circle and lock around my torso. His fingers interlace behind my back. Each finger reaches inward as if to take me in whole. Tighter.

Attempting to match his embrace, my hands scramble. Both arms are struggling to return his hold. Dancing with his merging frame, tighter they squeeze and begin moving closer together. Carefully my probing hands find their way around his body until one ends where another begins. Locking in a grip that rests in the small of his back while my head finds its place upon his chest. Tighter.

The night becomes cooler in our surroundings. Light purple becomes a deeper violet and we’re wrapped around each other in a hold. Our arms are gripping each other securely and pulling without restraint until there is nothing between them. The crushing force of our weight against each other completes the circle. My face rests on his chest looking up into his eyes. His eyes look down into mine and he releases a heavy breath upon my face. I rest my lips upon his neck with a gentle kiss and squeeze. His arms return the constriction and his lips touch my forehead. Our breathing sounds deeper through the force of our embrace. Strained shallow breathes escape with a heaviness that’s familiar. Tighter.  

Our bodies have no beginning and no end in the last light of the day. There are no sounds around us. No streets, no houses,  and no one walking through the night. There’s only this feeling of security in our circle. In this moment we’re all alone. Alone in the world but we’re connected in our own moment. There’s nothing and no one anymore.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Wake up


There's nothing like waking up in your life to find that you absolutely love where you are, whether you're in love or not. Love affairs are grand things and something to be embraced, I suppose even without knowing they'll last or not. Everything has a lesson for growth in life even tragedies. Here's an old one about giving into a love affair even if it's not what you had in mind.

Do you wake up with gratitude and love your life everyday? 

Kisses, m.

June 14, 2011

As I can recall it’s a lot more attention than I want to draw…” he says it with a smile that lets me know that he’s in.
But of course he’s in. He’s always in.

The lobby of the hotel where we meet is always packed by the rush hour hustle of people escaping back into their lives while we’re escaping into each other’s arms. Every time we meet again it’s another excuse when it shouldn’t be.

Tumbling away from his arms I throw myself face first into the sheets to muffle my screams of pure sheer ecstasy.

Like clockwork and the steady hands of a timepiece we’ve finished making love on the floor next to the bedroom for the third time when it happens, the same as it always happens.

“No more. We shouldn’t...” I tell him.

He moves his hands a little further down past my waist and leaves them on the back of my thigh. “You always do this. You want to do this. Shhh.”

“It’s always what we want. Don’t you think we’re being selfish?” I posture my question and place three small kisses on his chest.

“Selfish. What could be selfish about love?” He turns the question back at me while playing with the soft flesh on the back of my knee.

As we embrace there’s a man with a woman possibly his wife watching us in silence. Between our breathing sounds I can see them stare from the corner of my eye while he leans in to kiss my neck. Attention, it’s always more than we need but there’s no denying the need for us. The couple moves on while we lose ourselves in another kiss.

Love? I guess… it’s not what I’m saying. Don’t you think it’s unfair how we do this? We have to run away together, this way. The escape from our…”

“Lives? How else would we? Can you imagine if we didn’t escape?”

“The thought of having to make this work between our lives seems impossible… Yet we do.” My words are softer as I look into his eyes.

“We make this work?” The beat of his heart makes mine stop as he leans to kiss me.

Outside I let him hold me closer than before when he asks, “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. No more excuses.”
“As I can recall it’s a lot more attention than I want to draw…”

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Beauty simply is...

Beauty simply is. No matter what your exterior looks like, you are always enough dolls. There's no need ever to compete for a man or woman's attention. Especially no need to copy, trash talk or feign friendship with other dolls or Kens to get it. If a person implies you do need to change your appearance or treat others badly to win their love, then his or her attention & love isn't worth it. 

Love yourself to know that the only change needed is as simple as taking a bath. The right person that thinks you're the most won't want to change a cosmetic thing about you. They'll want to grow old & wrinkly with you. Change for yourself. Not for a lover. You are special exactly as you are.  

Here's an old one about taking & meditating in a bath! 

Do you love baths? This doll does!
Kisses, m.


Slinking into the white porcelain basin beneath the velvet blanket of wetness my skin slides until the top of my breasts are visible. From outer reaches beyond the white-wash of the bathroom door there’s the loud sounds of a television. It’s irrelevant what the sounds are in reference to as I count.

In. Out. One by one they escape my nose and mouth like bastard children sprang from passionate moments. One preceding one after another. Each sounds like an inverted rush of wind. Pushing in. Rushing out. There’s no battle but the force can be felt within.

The top of my feet are exposed enough for my toenails to be seen. My eyes pick apart visible red upon pink cracked paint hiding bare simplicity as I reach 35. I think I counted 25 the minute before last after the soapy wetness begins to evaporate into anything but still water.

Up. Down. My chest lifts. Rises to the rhythm of air. A moment longer and I’m counting to 40. Chest tightens quickly. And I’m thinking that somewhere I read that this is not normal before I sink further into the tub to listen.

Head remains partially submerged to the ears.

The distant vibration of the television’s din remains until all sound becomes quiet.

The same warmth of wetness surrounds my bare skin. My eyes look around in the same wonder and feel instead of listen. The cool air upon the red and pink brilliance awakens my skin into electricity. The gooseflesh runs up both legs wrapped inside the velvet blanket.

Beneath the blanket there’s no more numbers. No thoughts of measure. Nameless without their count. Air held tightly in cavities inside. My mind pregnant with thought. Thinking that there are dozens of them waiting to become once again. Released.

Trapped within. A feeling that seems ancestral grows. Without rise or fall it becomes.

In the vacuum of nothing. The feeling slowly becomes noise that is recognized. Familiar like an old memory. The sound of my heart fills the silence. Pounding. A moving rhythm in my ears. The beating of life continues without the movement of breathing. Listening to every beat without count. Needless to be counted. Known to themselves without identity.  Slowly the feeling in my chest lessens as the pulsation of blood begins to slow.

Deep within the white basin lies a feeling more than sound becomes audible without measure.

Photo credit: Tyler Shields

Monday, March 2, 2015


Outside... Oh I get out here & there. Spent the last few days outside after spending nearly a week with my legs propped up healing. Fun times! But the real question is do you ever get outside of yourself? Very few people do. They go for what's always easy instead of stepping outside of themselves to try feeling something new.

Here's a 400 from last fall about getting outside of yourself... 

Do you get outside of yourself?

Kisses, m.


I'm so very emotionally interwoven.
Mentally craving the unknown.
Wanting the connection of his kiss.
Magical, the energy of him dances in front of me.
Teasing me with a look. 
A smile.

Close enough to taste the smoke but he stops.
Running his fingers between my fingers.
Innocently whispering in my ear.

I can't stop looking in those eyes.
I'm in heaven when he stares.
Comforted by them and longing for more.
It's too far when he's standing front of me.
But he's enjoying the wait.

Testing my patience that hangs by a breath.
A breathe that takes in his emotions.
Closer until that magical kiss misses
And doesn't connect.

He relishes in this game. 
Knowing that I do too.
We like to watch the other 
As we're circling inward.

More intimate than ever we are face to face.
I'm touching him while the swallowing the smoke.
In his space, moving toward his face.
Climbing up his neck with my free fingers.
Trying to harness this connection.
Hold it steady.
Keep it safe. 

My hands harness him completely. 
But I want more.
Letting him move in.
On the brink of ecstatic 
When he slides his arm around my back.
Pulling me closer.
Giving me another taste of his breathe.

Smoke that leads the way of intention.
A promise of a kiss. 
Magical energy ready to be shared.
Vibrating beneath the skin my blood pumps fiercely, 
Fastly with passion.

The passion in electricity shocks.
And those shocking eyes send volts up my spine.
I signal for no words.
I could read his mind through his actions.

Breathe, touch and taste
Are showing me more than words.
Words are meaningless. 
Useless vowels can't compete with his hand caressing my face.
Lips tracing the skin on my neck 
As the smoke climbs up and up around us.

But there's only intention.
Anticipation of more.
Tension mounting in my grip.
But I don't concede.
I lean in to pull him closer.

Up close and personal but oh so far. 
I don't know my own patience
When I slide my fingers out of his and around his back.
I pull him nearer to me. 
Taste the smoke and kiss his cheek.

My tease causes a turn. 
He pulls me back
Kissing me hard.
I feel the magic as his heart beats against mine fast.

Without a thought he's become...

Monday, December 15, 2014

Losing My Religion

Great song by REM... interesting concept. Cause you can't lose your religion. I'm a non practicing catholic with Buddhist tendencies and I know my religion is still with me & yours is with you. If you ever had one... It's there under your collar between the creases of your shirt but somehow there even when you stop believing. Why? Because you once believed in it. Like love. It's there once it's there. But... You can lose your faith. That's the confusion. People lose their faith in the way things should be instead of accepting them as they are. Now, I think I've lost my faith in a lot of things but humanity, God & the universe aren't any of them. People change, circumstances evolve into good or bad and it's our faith in what happens next that determines how far we will go. Mistakes are made & things change but no one deserves a hardship more than any other person. No matter their misstep against you. I think the universe directs people exactly down the path they need to go, nearer and farther from us at times. Even resistance from the flow of things will pull us in the direction we need to go... Including the wrong one. 

Sometimes I think we have to keep faith, trust ourselves and the universe.

Here's an 400 about losing faith.  

Kisses, m.



Faith. Kneeling in the chapel. Pinned behind the steering wheel of my BMW. My little sister’s wedding. Standing over my fiancĂ©’s grave. Visiting a holy shrine in Israel. Still birth of my first child. When did it happen? There are a thousand places it could have happened, but there is only one place it did. December 22, the south bank of the river is illuminated by the evening sun. Bare cheeks exposed to the cold chill in the air. God wasn’t watching. Couldn’t have been.  Abandoned someone that day, even if it wasn’t me. The river was fuller and faster than the previous winter. Little chunks of snow passed through the rapids like tiny white vessels falling over the edge of the world. Spellbound by the spinning and drifting white, I was never prepared for what came into focus. Small shriveled up pink beneath the surface, visible through the clear water. Almost floating along, a ball connected to a thin pink chord. An unnaturally miniscule and odd misshapen ball with ten little fingers attached to thin tentacles. The current spinning and pulling the bundle along with minimal struggle. Pink dancing in a circle three feet away at the bottom of the icy river bed.  Tiny dancer. Baby boy. Submerged into the chilled water of the winter river. Baptism. Soul purified and released into the world. Downstream. Away from life. Away from an unwanted home. Away from the unwed teenage mother. A cruel punishment for something innocent. Where was God when his mother put him into the water? His mother, the unknown dysfunctional Mary that misunderstood his premature birth, shoves the tiny carcass into the frozen waters of the river in chilly December before resuming life. Delicately the mysterious offspring came to rest in a pool of shallow water along the bank. Calmly I walked towards the lifeless child. Without thinking I removed my scarf and bent down to pick up the small body. As I wrapped the oddly shaped body inside my scarf, I realize that there was never hope for this unwanted creature. Senseless. Faith can’t explain one life over another. There is no master plan. God abandoned him long before. Left him, along with his mother among the flock of unprotected. My unwavering faith now hanging by a thread of hope. A hope that has been dashed away by the absence of life that rest in my hands. 

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Big Feelings

There are always two sides of a story. And you can not change what's been done but you can go forward. Feelings realized too late or not... You keep moving. After... I wish I did but I m don't think I get a second chance to do it differently with someone. But sometimes the people you adore get another chance to make sacrifices to make their love affairs work. And sometimes stories get sacrificed for another chance. 

Yes, This is a 2nd version. Two voices. A him and a her. It's a love story now I suppose. The original was was written for no one and now revised because someone inspires me to believe that love is a more powerful weapon to create from. 

Do you believe in second chances?

Kisses, m.

Violently Happy

She loves me

He tells me he’s crazy. Tells me I make him crazy with my love. But he loves me. I know this. So much that every time he looks at me I get ecstatic with joy.

My love drives her to curl the pieces of her hair. 

His love leaves me with nineteen kisses. Followed up by a warm hand to hold in the afternoon sun. 

With my love she winds up dancing in a dizzying storm. LOVE. Love. love. Sends her so far up and away. 

Violently happy for me when I’m not near enough. Longs for my kisses. 

Beyond happy she runs towards my loving arms.  She’s an angel and I’ll move both heaven and earth, to remain with her.

Silent whispers in the morning. Lunchtime brings butterfly kisses. Brilliant embraces overtake us as we lay still in the evening. 

Running through the streets barefoot. Happy for my love. Pursuing the wondrous creature in the dark of the night is a blissful challenge

Windows and doors provide barriers from the outside world. Locks meant to keep what’s inside from crossing over. Boundaries that are set in stone for the uninvited. Do not break the glass unless there’s an emergency. There’s a chance our love is meant to enjoy this stillness. 

I know all too well of her attempted coyness as she rounds the corner. The city provides only privacy at this hour. Door after door is a protected barrier from intrusion. Prancing with her bare skin in the streets. Moonlight grazes her beautiful skin as I wrap both hands around her waist. Astonishment when she realizes the pursuit is over. 

Embraces are reminders of true affection. This is his love. Joy is love and my love is amazing. Purple and blue skies spread like track marks across the tired stars. Face and neck recall the souvenirs of his very calming loving kisses. 

Shrieks across the empty square when she feels me. Recognition sends her into a joyous frenzy. Spinning and shaking her curled hair once more. 

The warmth of his arms are a welcomed refuge from the cool air. Nothing can change my heart. Sight of him starts me slowing. He loves me, I know this. Happily I'm violent inside.

Kisses will quench my passion when she returns. She will return and love me. I can’t live without her love. Not without this violent happiness inside me.

Saturday, September 27, 2014


The first time you see something isn't always the way you think or where you think... Perhaps you've seen it before for the first time elsewhere. Vertical Film Strips are kind of unique, not uncommon and absolutely stunning installed. Yes! They're pretty neat to look at and some people love to decorate their homes with prints of them! I can think of a few design clients homes I've helped acquire filmstill prints for in the past. They are beautiful! It's very exciting to see them! Here's another piece from SMOKE! Comes out next week... 

Have you ever seen vertical film print strips? Do you remember where first? 


The first time I saw her she was vertical
Head tilted back laughing while smoking a cigarette.
The lines in her mouth turned into a smile when she looked my way.

It wasn’t the first time we’d laid eyes on each other
But it was the first time I noticed how much I loved her laugh
And the imprint of her stayed with me.

Tonight, again I’m vertical.
Looking at her
As the crowd parts,
I can’t help but smile.
I’m not sure why she’s looking at a guy like me.
I don’t want her to stop.
But she does.

Turning her head.
I know what she wants.
She wants me to come to her.
So I do.
Walk over.
Find my place by her.

I try to talk to her.
Interrupt what’s she’s saying.
I think I’m always interrupting her.
She always tells me I’m not.
Blowing a puff of smoke at me
There’s a hint of nostalgia in her playfulness.

The first time she was smoking a French cigarette
Toying with it in her mouth.
Up down and around.
Making me laugh.
Asking me how I’m doing.
I just talked.
I’m sure it was fine, because she laughed and asked more.

Tonight she’s just reaching out at my arm.
A puff of smoke as she grabs at my hands.
Pulling me down.
Looking into my eyes.
Hinting for a kiss.
I don’t ever want her to stop looking so I concede a kiss.

It’s not enough and she looks away.
Every time she does my heart pulls back and into my chest.
The pressure is unbearable.
The thought of losing that look entices me to sit.
But I don’t.
I tease her with the thought of leaving.
My hands move to untangle from her grip.
She releases smoke at me without a smile.

I know this game is for keeps.
Playing to win.
If win, I get her hand.
She wins and gets mine.
Bend to her will or let go.

Finally removing her fingers from mine
Results in the pout of her lip.
A small reminder that she’s not happy with my actions,
But will proceed.

And proceed she does
With a stroke of my leg.
My hips lean forward.
A physiological impulse that reminds me
To get control.

Unprepared for the reaction of my own body
I edge back until she’s reaching for me and…