When the Stars Landed in My Eyes

A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes
I screamed aloud, as it tore through them, and now it’s left me blind

Last night, after I placed the cannula from my temporary oxygen machine in my nose, I laid back and placed my ear buds in my ears. It had been months since I’d enjoyed any kind of music because it seemed like every time I listened to it all I did was get pissed off or sad.

Tapping the touchscreen of my smart phone I selected Cosmic Love by Florence and The Machine. Letting the sound envelop me, I tried my best to slow my breathing, enjoy every nuance of every note, and feel every word wash over me. I needed to be taken under the waves and made clean, and I figured Flo singing about standing in the darkness listening to a heartbeat would push me through the abyss.

Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too,
So I stayed in the darkness with you,

At the utterance of these words, my body began to shudder. I wasn’t sure if it was from the steroids that I was tapering off from or the words that had finally hit me. Tears began to stream down my face and I wrapped my arms around my waist. I whispered into the air, ‘hold me, just hold me, I’ll be okay if you just hold me.’  I didn’t know who I was speaking to, but I didn’t want the experience to end.

Still shaking, I fingered my iPod to play Never Let Me Go. The tears continued, but with it came a sense of calm. Through the sounds of the oxygen machine, the fan, the music and my tears, I heard a crash. My old spirit was breaking free and I was on my way back to myself.

Finding the love of music again made me want to listen to more, but I forced myself to turn it off. I placed the phone beside my bed, rolled over and fell under the wave of sleep. I dreamed of Him, and fell even deeper into oblivion. I dreamed of the promise of him, and hoped that he was dreaming of me too.

Looking out from underneath,
Fractured moonlight on the sea
Reflections still look the same to me,
As before I went under.

And it’s peaceful in the deep,
Cause either way (Cathedral, where) you cannot breathe,
No need to pray, no need to speak
Now I am under, Oh.

And it’s breaking over me,
A thousand miles down (on)to the sea bed,
Found the place to rest my head.

Never let me go, never let me go.
Never let me go, never let me go

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me,
And all this devotion was rushing over (out of) me

And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me,
But the arms of the ocean deliver me.

You Kissed Me Once

unidentifiable-on-a-stickcopyright-Ken Bonham

You kissed me once, while seated on a bench in Central Park, our gloved hands held steaming cups of coffee. My booted foot toed a long dead seed pod, and its remnants scattered on the sidewalk.

Our silence spoke of the depth of our love. How it had settled into the corners of our hearts made dusty by time and the broken shards left by other lovers.

I took a sip of steaming coffee, then kissed your mouth. We smiled at each other, as I drank in the beauty of your face.

You whispered, ‘thank you’, and I blushed in my reply.

 Genre: Romance/101 Words

It’s been so long since I’ve participated in Friday Fictioneers, but this photo spoke to me. Please give me constructive criticism. I assure you I’m tough, and I can take it.

Thanks Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this exercise in discipline. It is a joy to work with you and have you comment on my work.

Readers please check out the other stories found on Rochelle’s page. Thanks for stopping by.

Friday Fictioneers-Past, Present, Future

goats_and_graves_3_randy_maziecopyright-Randy Mazie

It is with true love as it is with ghosts; everyone talks about it, but few have seen it.Francois de La Rochefoucauld

The heartbroken ghost cares not for the man sitting in her cemetery. Nor does she ponder the bleating goat. Her transparent fingers trace the name of her beloved etched in marble.

He used to awaken her with gentle kisses on her inner thigh. She’d smile and stroke his unshaven face.

After his sudden death, the grief was so great she took her own life. His spirit journeyed to Heaven. Hers was destined to roam the Earth.

Though ghosts don’t sleep, her spirit became awakened by his. The same way it was in life. His lips settled on her alabaster thigh.

100 words/Genre: Ghost Story

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Criticisms and kudos are most welcome. Bring it on my loves, bring it on.

Friday Fictioneers-Sweet Summer Sweat


“…There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.”
Homer, The Iliad

Young lovers kiss each other in the darkness of a sultry night. Their bodies laced together and covered with a sheen of sweat. Breathless from loving with wild abandon. Philippe reaches for Erec’s hand, brings it to his lips and kisses it tenderly. Lips meet and their bodies press more closely to each other. Continuing their lovemaking on a bed made only with a satin sheet. A fan blows humid air over them and they shiver with delight.

Standing at his post, Philippe tries desperately to suppress the smile that crosses his lips while remembering the details of last night.

100 words/Genre: Romance

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Please be sure to go to her page and read the stories from other writers. We are a rather eclectic group. I welcome kudos and criticism. Bring it on!

Have a great weekend.


A Garden Planted in Her Name


The flower offered of itself, And eloquently spoke
Of Gods, In languages of rainbows
Perfumes, And secret silence…

~Phillip Pulfrey, from Love, Abstraction and other Speculations~

Wildflowers bloom and perfume a sunny afternoon.

Picnic blanket spread over freshly mowed grass.

Lovers lie next to each other.

A ring of flowers adorns her hair.

He reaches for her, touches her cheek.

She rolls over, kisses his lips.

Passion awakens with each caress.

They make love by the garden he planted in her name.

He climaxes into her, and relaxes.

She drapes a purple bloom around his ear and chortles.

He kisses her breast, looks at her and grins.

There is a spirit in her eyes, the likes of which he’s never known.

He doesn’t ever want to stop touching her.

Without a word, she promises he never has to.

The Proposal

Ferris Wheel and Tilt A Whirl

The lovers walk through the turnstile and their senses are blindsided by the smells of the Midway. The heated sugar and cinnamon of Elephant Ears. The greasy tang of French fries, Italian sausage, peppers and onions.  Their eyes are dazzled by sugar being spun onto a cardboard cone. The aromas float in the air and travel tantalizingly up their nostrils. She breathes deeply as she walks hand in hand with him toward the Ferris wheel.

Men and boys look her up and down, but she pays no attention to them. All she sees is him. Her dark haired knight in shining armor. Her best friend. The sun sets and the lights come up on the Midway. The sights and sounds make her forget her fear of heights as they wait in line to take their first ride.

They settle in the seat of the Ferris wheel and are strapped in by a questionable looking carny. Her love senses her anxiety and wraps his hands around hers. They begin their first ascent. She sucks in a breath and releases it slowly.

Don’t worry Love, we’ll be fine.

Oh honey, I know. My stomach drops every time we come around is all.

I love you my dear, you know that don’t you?

Of course I do.

She smiles at him. He grips her chin between his thumb and index finger. He brushes his lips against hers and she laughs. He lowers his hand from her face and places it in his coat pocket. She gives him a puzzled look as he brings out a little black box. Her eyes widen in wonderment.

What are you doing?

What do you think I’m doing?

Are you. Are you asking me to marry you?


I thought you said you’d never get married.

My Love you have made me change my mind. I can’t imagine my life without you.

This is crazy. You’re crazy! I’m a nut. I’m neurotic. I’m a slob. I’m ridiculous. Impulsive. Crazy. I’m….

You are perfect and I love you.

I’m imperfect, but I love you. Are you sure you want to do this?

Yes. Will you have me?

Oh yes.

She starts to cry and her cheeks flush crimson. He wipes her tears away, then places the diamond on the ring finger of her left hand.

The Ferris wheel makes another revolution. She feels her stomach drop. Not from fear, but elation. She snuggles in tight next to him and kisses him passionately. As they continue kissing they’ve no idea that the ride has stopped. The questionable carny stands by waiting impatiently for them to leave the ride. All they see is each other. And the sparkle of her engagement ring reflected in the lights of Midway.

Blue Sapphires and Salt of the Sea-Part III


It is not sex that gives pleasure, but the lover.-Marge Piercy

Looking into her eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

She shyly replies, “Of course I am. Sometimes, I just lose myself though. It’s as if there’s some sort of “soul” to my orgasms, some other power besides mere pleasure.”

Holding her close, he breathes in the scent of her hair. She’s familiar. Warm. She cares. They have an undiscovered history. He wants her, and she, him. Why this insatiable desire? He’s not sure.

Sitting up, she grabs the discarded sheet, while making sure to put the comforter around him so that he isn’t chilled. “It is winter after all,” she thinks to herself as she wraps the sheet around herself and gets out of bed saying, “I’ve got to pee and grab something from the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

He smiles contentedly at her when responding, “I’m not going anywhere love,, take your time.”

Smiling, she stumbles back to the bed to give him a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom. He hears the rush of water as she turns on the faucet to wash her hands. He laughs to himself because he can hear her humming. Then she starts outright singing. Hearing his laughter, she yells “Hey, don’t make fun of my singing! I used to be good, once upon a time,” as she grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge.

He responds with, “you still are good.”

Uncorking the bottle, she walks back to the bedroom and stands in the doorway for a moment. With the light hitting her just right, he suddenly sees her as she used to be when first they met. With his realization, she blushes.

“Come back to bed love,” he whispers.

“I would like nothing better than to do just that,” she responds urgently.

She slides in next to him, and hands him the bottle, a sweet red wine. Perfect. He drinks greedily and then holds the bottle to her mouth while carelessly wiping his chin. She swallows the nectar and swears she can feel the warmth of its buzz spread throughout her body almost instantly. He drinks again before she takes the bottle and places it on the nightstand, after another long pull herself.

Smiling at each other, they kiss and taste the wine on each other’s tongues. She feels his cock harden against her thigh. the kisses become deeper, longer. He places his hand on her left breast and dips his head to taste her erect nipple. She arches her back as her pussy begins to swell and dampen with desire.

Placing her mouth up against his ear, she whispers, “Fuck me.”

He places his mouth on hers and asks, “Why do you want me?”

In response she reaches down between his legs and roughly grabs his hardened organ while saying, “Because I can make you feel like this.”

Sitting up, he leans his back against the headboard as he replies, “You make me feel so much more than just that. You make me feel like I am more, can be more.”

She smiles as she places her legs on either side of his hips and hovers over him momentarily, slowly brushing her clit against his tip in invitation. She kisses him passionately as he enters her.

“I’m going to fuck you slow,” She grunts.

“I’ll let you, for now”, He moans in response.

Moving slowly back and forth, she places her right hand under his chin while almost jamming her tongue into his mouth. He sucks it, while trying to make her move faster. She resists and changes rhythm, starts sliding up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, you’re good,” he says.

“So are you,” she coyly says in rhythm to her motions.

Feeling her pulsing tightness slide up and down his shaft, he can’t stand it anymore, and flips her back onto the bed. He waits a moment before mounting her, thrusting hard, because he knows that’s this is the only way she can truly cum.

“I remember you now,” he pants, “Do you remember me?”

“Yes, I remember,” She says in between breaths, her breasts swaying with each hit, “I always loved fucking you.”

Feeling her orgasm crest, he slams into her with each word said, before leaning over and kissing her neck, just before she pulls his hair and screams his name. Her pussy clamps down and holds his cock inside of her as she writhes through another orgasm. He keeps up the constant stroking. In, out. In, out, as she makes sure to move her hips in time with his.

He implores, “Baby, slow down. You’ll make me cum.”

But she only responds with “I can’t help it. You feel so fucking good. I’m going to cum again.”

“Then cum for me love.”

And she does, while being paralyzed by the force of it. Tears leak from her eyes. Showing concern, he slows his movements.

“Don’t you dare stop, I’m not done yet,” she replies.

Her body relaxes as he keeps moving in and out of her. Pinching his nipples, she smiles as he lets out a gasp.

“Do you want to cum inside of me? Is that what you want?” She asks.

He can barely utter the word, “yes.”

“Then do it.”

Grabbing him, she lays him down and climbs back on top of him. She starts to move slowly again, placing her hands in her hair and leaning back while she grinds. He pushes her hips down as far he can, make her move faster. She reaches behind and begins to caress his balls, feeling that they are drawing up. Getting tighter. She smiles because she knows he is so damn close.

“Cum for me baby, cum for me,” She murmurs.

He lets out an intense sound of pleasure, like she has never heard before. It is like music and primal all at the same time. He shudders and releases his essence into her. Laying her body against his, he lazily wraps his arms around her, while caressing the length of her back. She rolls to one side and gently places her hand over his heart. She feels it begin to slow. Though it is warm, he picks up the bottle of wine, leans up and takes a drink. He holds it for her as she takes a sip as well. After he places it back on the nightstand, she leans up on one elbow. Looking him in the eyes, she smiles, while kissing his lips, cheek and forehead and touching his face.

“Can we do it again?” she asks.

He grins and tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear before saying, “again and again. For as long as you’d like, love.”

Let’s Play Look Tag ;-)

Thank you Breezy Books for the this fun little game to play


Maddy Cochere of Breezy Books, author of  four books including, Sunshine Hunter, has tagged me for the Look Challenge. I like this challenge because I can share a little more of my book than just six sentences.

The challenge is simple.  Per Maddy, “The idea is to locate the word ‘look’ in whatever manuscript/book you have lying around (I may be paraphrasing here) and post the few previous and following paragraphs and then invite other authors to do the same.”

My ‘look’ is from The Gargoyle, by Andrew Davidson. It’s a love story about two lovers who’s love spans countries and centuries and was recommended to me by my friend Rory, the most wonderful man I know besides Roger Darling. He told me I would identify with it because of my fear of beauty and the need for unconditional love. Let’s just say the man was right. I think it’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. I “feel” every word put to paper. Every damn word.


“Look,” he said gently, “the dark spots have come to your skin.’ Graziana began to weep, but Francesco smiled and stroked her hair. “Don’t cry. We don’t have time for tears. Let us love while we still can.”

That very afternoon, Graziana fell into the worst of it. For three days, they lay together. For three days, Graziana went about dying horrendously in his arms while he told her stories about swans and miracles and great loves. On the third mid-night of her illness, Francesco awoke to her tortured breathing. She turned her face to his.

“This is it.”

He said, “I will see you soon.”

Francesco kissed Graziana one final time, taking her final breath deep into his chest. “Ti amo,” she said, I love you.

After she passed, Francesco slipped the wedding ring from her finger. He, too, was now deeply ill, but he pulled himself out of bed. He could barely stand, crippled by the nausea and fever, but he forced himself into his blacksmith shop. There was one thing left to do.

He lit the fire and heated the forge. He melted both wedding rings, his and hers, and poured them into an arrowhead mold. When the arrowhead was completed, he set it onto a shaft. He looked down the length of the arrow, ensuring it was as straight and true as any he had ever made.

Francesco pulled down the crossbow that was pinned to his wall.

The book is a heart breaker my loves. My favorite kind. You’ll have to read the rest to find out what happens. Remember not all love stories end happily or with an explainable outcome. Sigh.


I’m tagging these writers/bloggers to do the same in one of their upcoming blog posts:

t from as long as i’m singing

Kyle Mew from KyleMew.com

Bradley Alan from Youjivinmeturkey.com

Diana from TalktoDiana.wordpress.com

Vikkie from The-View-Outside.com

Sunrise, Coffee, and Sanctuary

With each sunrise we start anew

Vanessa sits on her porch in the stillness of the morning. She sees the sun coming up through the maple tree in the back yard. Her coffee is next to her. Filled to the brim with dark roast, real creamer, and a drizzle of caramel sauce. She’s reading. One of her go to books of the summer. It’s set in the South of course. She thinks she was a debutante in a former life. She’s always been drawn to those types of books. Romance, in the South. Life, in the South. Even with the bigotry, she still feels drawn there.

She sets her book down on the table next to her. And watches the sun ascend and become brighter. Its color changing from dark orange to a warm yellow, like the color of an egg yolk. It’s like she hears it. It sizzles, cracks and pops. Like a campfire that is only embers, and the wood splits with the intense heat of it.

Vanessa looks to the right and sees the swimming hole n the side yard. It’s one of the reasons that she and Liam picked this place to live. To love. The sun’s rays cause a reflection on the water in the morning light. She thinks of him, and smiles. She left him sleeping, so she could read, and watch the sunrise. It’s been a busy few days for them. They’re finally together, in the same place. No more running back and forth from place to place.

They have their sanctuary, in the middle of nowhere. It’s just them. Finally. No need for commitment. Or wedding rings. There’s just bliss. They get to, just be. The sun is higher in the sky. The flies and bees begin to buzz around her. Vanessa doesn’t care though. She picks up her coffee mug and takes a huge drink. It’s cold, but the caramel still tastes fantastic!

She rises from her chair and descends the three concrete steps of the wraparound porch. She makes a right and heads to the swimming hole. She starts taking off her clothes as she walks to the waters edge. Her tank shirt is the first to go. She just leaves it in the grass. Next go her sleep pants. Again, in the grass. When she gets to the waters edge, she takes off her boys shorts and flings them off her fingers. She jumps head first in the water.

As Vanessa resurfaces, shakes her head and opens her eyes. She sees Liam standing on the shore. He’s the love of her life. He’s naked of course. He’s always naked. And he’s smiling. Actually he’s laughing. He always laughs when he’s with his silly girl. He jumps in the water and swims up to her. They wrap their arms around each other, kiss passionately and smile. She blushes. For some reason he still makes her blush.

She says to him, My God you are perfect. This is perfect. He says, Honey I’m far from perfect. I’ll settle for decent. She says, Okay we are not perfect, we are decent. But this life, this life will be perfect. He says to her, I think we finally got it right.

They hold each other in the water. Their bodies entwined and shivering in the morning light. They look around at their sanctuary and then descend below the surface to share a kiss.

The Redhead in the Red Barn

This morning she works in the barn. It’s her favorite place to be. What is it about it that she loves so much? It can’t possibly be the smell of manure. She laughs to herself and thinks, that it could be part of it. It’s a warm Spring day. The barn smells of freshly harvested hay. The loft is full of it. She can see the sun beam through the cracks in the barn walls. It warms the space up and makes her sweat as she’s working. She hears the sounds of the farm, finds comfort in it while she puts away supplies and sweeps the floor. The sights, sounds, and smells calm her chaotic mind.

She thinks about him. She loves him, but they’ve been together for so long. Since they were 18. They’ve lost their way recently. Forgotten how to touch, talk, love. She wonders when in the hell he got so old. She’s sure she’s still 18. She thinks about the kids. They’re grown, and it’s just to the two of them now. Somehow they’ve lost their way. She misses him. Wishes for him. She hopes they will make it. It’s funny how life gets more complicated when the kids grow up. She thought it was supposed to get easier. She keeps sweeping, working.

With that last thought she looks up and sees him. He’s standing in the doorway of the barn. Sun surrounds him, and she can barely see his face. His body is in silhouette. She can see he has a simple bouquet of flowers in one hand. As he walks closer to her, he smiles, his sweet, perfect smile. She melts instantly, just like she did when she was younger. It makes her remember the reason that she’s always loved him. He  kneels in front of her and hands her the flowers. Daisies, her favorite. Around them they hear the sounds of the farm. They smell the heady aroma of the freshly harvested hay. She takes the flowers and his hand.  They giggle like the teenagers they used to be and head for the hayloft.