So, I haven’t posted here for a couple of days
Of course, I hate when that happens
Really, I wanted to post, but I was burning the candle at both ends
Reaching a point where the words would not come
You can be assured I am sorry and will try to do better in the future.
And now a bonus poem/story…
She wanted to tell him she had been wrong in what she did
Or maybe not quite wrong, but maybe more mistaken
Reaching out, she cupped his cold face with her hands
Ready to finally apologize for what she had done
Yet she couldn’t though since he was already dead
Watching the spirits dance in the moonlight while nursing her new bruises
It made her want to run out there and join them.
She knew she shouldn’t. She knew what would happen. She would never come back.
Pushing off her back step she decided it was better than the alternative.
Somebody should have known better
That would have prevented the switch from coming out
Everyone wanted to run and hide
Run and hope someone else would take the beating
Not that any of them had real hope. One look at her face made that disappear
Can’t figure out which flavor of Daquiri she wanted
Of course there was the Classic Martini, or one of a hundred permutations
Can’t forget the Old Fashioned, but she thought she wanted something newer
Kicking back a Whiskey Sour might put a nice pucker on her lips
Though maybe some bubbles with a Moscow Mule
Ah, or going tropical and hit up a Mai Tai
If not perhaps a Sloe Gin Fizz would hit the nostalgic spot, but not tonight
Leading her to decide on a Rum and Coke since sometimes simple is better
She was sad when her drink disappeared after she misplaced it moments later.
Making traditional Mexican sauces always made Maria smile
Of course, her Abuela made them so well that she should really sell them, but she wouldn’t
Leading to Maria secretly recording the kitchen for the next 24 hours
Everyone will suspect her brother when the recipe gets sold, but she was going to be the…
Focusing on the food was what gave him pleasure
Every morsel perfectly prepared and consummately seasoned
At the moment he could think of nothing better existing in the universe
So why was his stomach still an echo chamber of empty rumbles?
The fact the meal in question was just an old magazine spread and he had no money
Giving up and letting go of reality
Realizing being delusional is so much easier to cope
If you think about it, though, that is so scary to do
Perhaps It might be better to hold on for dear life
His heart was shattered into shards that stabbed his soul and made it bleed
Every day he tried to put one or two more pieces back together as best he could
And some days his heart broke more than he fixed it, yet overall
Living slowly got better, forever different, but better
She felt under attack during her interview
It seemed that every person wanted to tear her apart, break her
Every time she had five minutes to herself, she almost broke down and cried
Getting this chance was her way to something so much better, but was the battle worth it
Examining her casualties, she decided no.
“Look, it’s true what they say about… you know.”
“Except I don’t know. Please educate little ol’ me.”
“Not on your life! If you don’t know, well then all the better.”
“Good grief! Be a man and tell me.”
“That would be funny if it wasn’t so ironic.”
“How come? Telling me would be such a… small thing.”