Thursday, February 14, 2013



Bring a heart back from despair to be pierced by Cupid's love dart. 
A love story in all its glory. 
Write a little something!

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    He stood on the front porch with morning as a new promise. The mist of dew’s bated breath hung above the grass as sips of his molten brew stimulated his heart.

    This was the part that took the most out of him, for he knew the feeling that was vacant could not be replenished or filled easily.
    Looking out, he saw the tendrils of light lifting over the distant ridge, a bridge between dreams and heartbreak – and he aches a little with each rise of his chest. He was a mess, and he knew it.
    If he could eschew these thoughts he would, but he also knew it would do no good.

    The brilliance of the emerging sun possessed him as much as her bright light held his passion. It would eventually come crashing down around him and yet, the memory of that flame fortified
    the fire that burned dimly in his heart. It was a start.

    The birds were awakening, and there was no mistaking their song. It was a strong prelude on this multi-hued morn. It was born of love and hope, and he could cope with whatever the day wrought. It ought to be good. He would sip again and savor the flavor of lips
    once pressed against this same cup, an interruption most welcomed and desired. Again it stoked the fire.

    A deep breath filled his lungs and he held it in, remembering the scent of her as the same fresh and exhilarating sniff. It was as if she was standing there against his scarred shoulder, drawing her strength from his worn and tired physique. But his psyche needed mending because it was sending these signals of glad sadness. An unbalanced madness festered in love and disdain, an old refrain they had reconciled years earlier. And in it, he just got more assured.

    It was pure, these feelings, melancholy as they were, for it was her who saved him. It was her whim that resurrected him; it protected him in ways he thought no one ever could or would. But she did.
    She hid it well, much the same as the rabbits that pocked the field across the way when they came out to play. Their furry tenderness blended in well to stave off this hell that festered and pestered his heart. She loved their timidity and guarded adventurism, they explored the way her heart had searched for its mate.

    Guarded and tentative, a preventative to heartache and breakage. She had staked everything by offering her smiles and womanly wiles to his dark and brooding moods. She became the sunshine that bathed his face and lifted his spirits, and her voice as he’d hear it in the trill of the sparrows at play. It was her day. Valentine’s Day. A day when distant hearts reconnect and reflect on lasting connections offered in breaths and sighs, sunlit skies. Birds heard in the songs that lived within. That silly grin when the bunnies lept and danced, and she had pranced through his life unabashed and confident. She knew what it meant to be loved.

    Cup nearly drained and a faint sound approaching encroaching on this solitude, but not intruding. He heard the door’s creaking yawn and his eyes were drawn on the vision that graced him. Her face was angelic, her hair thick and disheveled and a devilish look in her eye. She offered another shot from the bottom of the pot; a new cup with a bright red heart right below where his lips kissed. In the morning mist they were complete. She had re-awakened to his new day. He had nothing left to say but a deep “good morning” and he watched her yawning arms stretch to hug the world. This girl never strayed. She stayed.

    Reminders notwithstanding, she had been quietly demanding his attention, not to mention his love, for above all else, he did.

    He loved her more each day. And today was her day: Valentine’s Day.