Love Quotes


It was only a moment, but in that moment I loved you more than I will ever love anyone in a lifetime.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Let me in...Please


She won't talk to me. She won't let me in. I have tried every trick I know that would bring a smile to her face, if ever a faint one, but still, it used to be a start, and yet, she won't talk to me. She shuts me out, leaving me alone in this cold world. I keep trying, I keep calling.., she won't answer, she won't speak.

I fear she sits alone in the dark, in the overwhelming silence, in the corner of the room, allowing her demons to taunt her and tell her horrible stories of past, of present, and of possible future, a present and a future that don't really exist. I fear she believes them. 

She is my other half, my life support, my person. She is the one thing in this world that makes everything bearable, different. She is the person that brings light to my life, even though she doesn't believe it, she doesn’t see it. I have tried showing her, explaining it, and nothing has worked. 

I am afraid, terrified, that if I don't find a way to wake her from her endless nightmare, I will lose her. I fear she will let her tortured angels guide her down the path of no return, to the forsaken garden, where the light doesn't reach anymore.

She is one of the most beautiful souls I have ever encountered in this world. She is that person that has known suffering, loss, the person that has cried herself to sleep more often than not. She has known loneliness, has known guilt, regret, she has known all the horrible things in this world, and yet, she is the more beautiful for it. She has survived every situation, won battles unknown to most. But this time, I fear her strength is waning, and because she is fighting her worst enemy, I fear she might be tempted to give up. She is fighting herself.

I want to help, but she won’t let me in. And I fear, I will not be able to break down her walls in time. I fear, she might give in, she might surrender. Even worse, I fear, I won't be able to follow.

I look up to the skies and pray the heavens that she hears my call, my desperate cries. Please, oh please, come back to me. Please, let me help, open the door and let me in. 

If I can't reach her, I hope she remembers, that long ago she made me a promise, one she swore never to break, one that was made under oath. She promised that when the end came, it would be the two of us, old and weary, in this big house, full of old, full of us. If my voice won't reach her, I prey my hope will. 


Friday, February 21, 2014

Conversations: You saved me


Her: So, tell me.

Him: What do you want to know?

Her: How you saw me.

Him: You know better than anyone, why do you want me to tell you?

Her: Because sometimes, I just need to hear you say it.

Him: Well, it wasn't until that night that I really realized how beautiful you were. Not because you weren't noticeable, but because I was walking around with these blinds on. I remember coming up to you and talking to you, Immediately I was captivated by your smile, and then by your walk. I offered to take you to your car, and it was honestly out of concern, a lady should never walk alone in the dark.

   That night...that night was the catalyst of what I thought of you. As they say, first impressions count, and you definitely made yours. Everyday you walked in with an immense sense of joy and confidence, wearing that big, beautiful white smile, always walking tall, no matter what you wore, you exemplified the word sexy.

   Your strides, flirty and inviting, causing any person, man or woman, to take a close inspection of your figure, to watch every corner of your body work it's mechanics, it truly was a miracle. It's complexity creates such beauty and with a wave of a hand your attention is gained, with a simple gesture of welcome. On to reveal the wonder above your shoulders. Your hair, so complementary, your eyes, peering into ones deepest desires. But with the most gentle and sweet look ever. Such a marvelous contradiction. The structure of your face, like if it was made by a team of the most skilled architects and artists in the world.

   And then, that neck, that long, smooth, dark, beautiful neck, just crying to be worshiped, asking to be bitten. It's start and finish are the perfect example of anatomy. Starting from the most slender feminine shoulders and ending at that sensual divide where your hair starts. And if one is lucky enough to explore such an area, one would find a whole other world to explore with one's lips.

   When you walk by, you stop time and you bring happiness. I saw you as a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent woman, who knows what she wants. Who is open minded and understanding, mature and adventurous. I saw you as such, and I still see you in the same light.

Her: A thank you is not enough. How you describe me, the words you use, how you construct each sentence... I will never be able to...You make me smile from within. You are an amazing man, and I am glad you took those blinds off. Not because you saw me, but because you let me see you, truly see you, you let me in.

Him: I can never thank you enough for that. You came to my rescue at a very dark time for me.

Her: You weren't the only one that needed saving. With you I learned that it is possible, that I can still go on, that I can still love, with no strings, just give, no expectations. With you I experienced the wonder of being happy because I brought happiness and light to someone else. You are a truly wonderful man.

Him: I love you.

Her: I love you.


He's my Wonderwall....

I think about him all the time. About his smile, his eyes, about the way they light up when he talks about something that he is passionate about. I think about his practiced walk, that walk that reminds me so much of a hunting panther. I think about the way his hands move when he is trying to make a point. I think about the vulnerability he only lets show when in the darkness of his room. I think about his words, and how he carefully chooses them, as a way, to say exactly what he means. I think about his arms, the way they fit when embracing me. I think about him, all of him, every minute of every hour of every day...

It's wonderful. And it is also driving me insane. I can't seem to shake his image out of my head, to stop myself from mentally repeating his name over and over again. I can't stop feeling him all over my body, His hands, his lips. His scent lingering on my skin. It is maddening! Pure torture and complete pleasure. How is this possible? It's like living in a senseless reality, or a logical wonderland.

All I can say is: Have I gone mad?


Sunday, February 16, 2014

From within

It is a good thing that we can only see the exterior, the physical parts of each other. It is a good thing that I can wake up every morning and comb my hair, put on makeup, wear a nice dress, and put on my best smile. I can go out to the world and no one will know. They won't be able to tell that I am broken,  damaged, tainted. They won't be able to see that I bleed inside, that I scream in pain. They won't be able to know that I am consumed by my loneliness. It is indeed a good thing, bacause if they knew, how could they still want me? How could they love me still?

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Is it so? Tell me?

The wild side of me often wonders about certain cravings, certain...practices. why is the thought of being bound while being had so appealing? The thought of being blissfully tormented so inviting?
Why is the idea of being blindfolded so attractive? Why is it that we may find pleasure in certain type of pain? Is it about control? Playing with fire without getting burned? Or is it about pure desire, lust, letting go? do we really enjoy, want, to be tamed, controlled, subjugated?
Do we want our demons silenced by a stronger demon? Or is it that we want to release them to a worthy master?

Either way, the thought of being, just for a brief moment, subdued, is somewhat seductive... and it shouldn't be.

But if you knew you could be that one person to be in control...would you do it? Would you make then kneel, would you make them yours?

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

The day they came

Not the usual stuff I write, but it was screaming to come out. 



"As sons and daughters, we should always remember that we owe everything to our parents, but mostly our mothers, without them, we would not be here..."


For the last months of her life, she would always sit on the porch, and you would always hear her say "they are coming today, I know it." But they never came.

She sat and waited. She waited for the children that never came. The same ones who always promised her, who always said they would, soon, visit. The same ones who, in the end, never had the time, never could make it, and always called with an excuse. They never came.

They didn't know she was living her last days. They a;so didn't know that she would always wait, for she finished every call with "it's ok, I understand, tomorrow maybe, or another day." But still, they never came.

Her mind, slowly, slipped into a state of stillness, a state of numbness that made her do the same things over and over. She would wake up, call all three of them to say good morning, though they rarely picked up. You see, they were tired, sleeping, or just didn't have the time to take that one call. She would then leave a message and all she would say is "maybe today? I will be here. I will wait" And still, they never came.

Every afternoon, right at 3 pm, she would put on a dress, a freshly washed and ironed dress, and comb her hair, and put on some makeup, and sit on the porch, to wait for her children. Her little ones. She would wave to the neighbors, and when they asked, she would say "today is the day." But still, they never came.

That last day, the call came earlier, but they didn't pick up. They never did, at least not at that time. That last day, the message said "I know it's earlier than usual, but today may be the day. Please come, I will wait." She did everything else. She bathed, she got ready, she wore her favorite dress, and she sat on the porch to wait. That day, she closed her eyes, with a smile on her face, because in her mind, that day they came. It was the last time she sat there, it was the last day she waited. But her children, in reality, never came.

They got a call at 8 pm, from a number they did not know. That call they picked up. The phones hung from their ears. They didn't really listen past "she's gone." Today they all sit in her house. Today they all shed the tears. Today they all talk to her. Today is the day they came. But today is the day she is not here to wait.

Don't let that day come to you. Go to her, don't make her wait.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Stumbling around...

As all of you very well know, most of the content on this blog comes from within me, and is written by me. But every once is a while, stumbling around, I find certain pieces of writing that are just breathtakingly perfect. Like this one.

I hope you all love it as much as I did.

“Be brave. Even if you’re not, pretend to be. No one can tell the difference. Don’t allow the phone to interrupt important moments. It’s there for your convenience, not the callers. Don’t be afraid to go out on a limb. That’s where the fruit is. Don’t burn bridges. You’ll be surprised how many times you have to cross the same river. Don’t forget, a person’s greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated. Don’t major in minor things. Don’t say you don’t have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Pasteur, Michaelangelo, Mother Teresa, Helen Keller, Leonardo Da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein. Don’t spread yourself too thin. Learn to say no politely and quickly. Don’t use time or words carelessly. Neither can be retrieved. Don’t waste time grieving over past mistakes Learn from them and move on. Every person needs to have their moment in the sun, when they raise their arms in victory, knowing that on this day, at his hour, they were at their very best. Get your priorities straight. No one ever said on his death bed, ‘Gee, if I’d only spent more time at the office’. Give people a second chance, but not a third. Judge your success by the degree that you’re enjoying peace, health and love. Learn to listen. Opportunity sometimes knocks very softly. Leave everything a little better than you found it. Live your life as an exclamation, not an explanation. Loosen up. Relax. Except for rare life and death matters, nothing is as important as it first seems. Never cut what can be untied. Never overestimate your power to change others. Never underestimate your power to change yourself. Remember that overnight success usually takes about fifteen years. Remember that winners do what losers don’t want to do. Seek opportunity, not security. A boat in harbor is safe, but in time its bottom will rot out. Spend less time worrying who’s right, more time deciding what’s right. Stop blaming others. Take responsibility for every area of your life. Success is getting what you want. Happiness is liking what you get. The importance of winning is not what we get from it, but what we become because of it. When facing a difficult task, act as though it’s impossible to fail.”

— Jackson Brown Jr.