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I have been writing for years, but never knew that I was a writer. The expression itself was and has always been such a personal adventure that it never crossed my mind to allow others to partake in my work. I still don't call myself a writer or a poet, those titles go to the published or established, but I hope to obtain such entitlement in the very near future. But over all, I hope that I can spark some sort of discussion. Whether it's about my work and the emotions or thoughts that it has provoked, or even just about how pitful and weak my writing just might be. Either way, it is discussion and forcing some kind of thought! I hope you all enjoy! Feel free to email me at jlcope77@yahoo.com for any reason. Enjoy.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

In One Night

In One Night He couldn’t figure out where the words had gone from his mouth; staring blankly in his hands as if in those palms he’d find the misplaced thoughts that had escaped the roll of his tongue. She had stood there waiting; teetering on the verge of broken, longingly searching for understanding with the guiding light of her torn heart. The time had gotten away from them – where had the years gone when things were easy, as if that words could even hold any meaning to them at this point in the venture through such a tedious relationship. Exhausted, she felt the weight of his silence like that of a boat anchor crushing what self worth she felt she might have left. When her feet began to move, it surprised even her, she had not commanded them to move, but it was as if even her feet, down to the tips of her toes, had taken all that they could of what the two of them were trying to hold on too. He, just as startled as her, couldn’t believe she was brushing by him. He never imagined that she could walk away from him and out of a pairing that had seemed ordained; but that was a life time ago. Unlike her, he commanded his body to act, to respond to her movement to counteract what he knew was taking place in that second of time. However, much like her body, it was acting on it’s own accord, and all orders fell to the wayside as his hand nor his feet could move from the present state. She passed by him, and he couldn’t do anything but smell her intoxicating perfume that, on so many a night, had drawn him into her compelling his heart and hands and lips to ravage every last inch and every last pore of her sun-bronzed body. The confusion in that second urged him to take flight, to respond to the tragedy that was unfolding before him, but not a thing, not a word, not a touch was going to right what had been so wrong for so long. He stood, as she walked out of his life, and this time he knew it meant for good, forever, and that nothing would be the same ever again. Wavering, uncertain, frightened, she stepped by him and the instant rush of heat that passed through her body weakened her as if it was informing her senses that, as she walked away from him, the cold stranger of loneliness was now taking her over. She could feel it as soon as he was no longer in her site, she knew it the moment she stopped staring, deeply, in to those hazel green eyes that for so long had pierced directly to her heart and let her know that she was the furthest thing from alone. She knew, when he looked at her, that he would protect her, that he loved her regardless of how she dressed when she went to the store, or how her hair looked when she woke up next to him in the morning, and in that second she knew she wouldn’t be waking up next to him in the morning. She knew that his strong, caliced hands would no longer be wrapped around her in those early mornings when the cool chill of her flat made her yearn for his warmth. The realization came over her the moment she brushed past his arms, the moment she saw in his eyes that he couldn’t or wouldn’t ever look at her the same, as if the calices were now over their hearts instead of on his hands. But why? The only thought that either could share was WHY had things become the way that they had? Where did they start to unravel and how did they not catch it in time to save what had seemed so right? They were the envy of their friends, the kind of couple that other couples looked at and smiled, but then instantly wished and wondered how they could have the love or bond that they shared. Had life become so hectic that they had lost each other some where along the way? His job had become more insistent of his time – her change in job and attempt to follow her dream of writing had caused a financial strain for her, but could that possibly have been the igniter that burnt the passion they shared? Because the passion, heaven help them, the passion was something they didn’t lack. In many ways, the extreme attraction that the two of them shared helped them through some of the smaller, petty issues that other couples fell short on. One moment the yelling would turn into a firm embrace; his hands cupping both sides of her jaw as he pulled her into kiss her luscious lips and back against the closet door in their hallway. Her finger nails finding several layers of skin on his back, through his shirt, as she feverishly attempted to get her body as close to his as possible. There were pants and shirts and buttons ripped and torn as the two of them collided and he placed himself with her, one, thrusting every last bit of love he had with in him, into her, and she would gasp. Gasping as he plunged deeply into her soul; his lips dancing on her neck and down to her shoulders to that one spot that made her knees go week every time he would touch her in that way. The passion – it didn’t matter where they were, who they were with, or what they were doing, it was as if there was no one else around and if they did acknowledge the others presence it was but for a brief moment, as if not to be rude, and then right back into their own little enchanted world. As he stood there a funny thing happened; all he could think about were the moments that had made him fall in love with her. He could only see her face, her eyes, and the perfect curve of her mouth as she began to smile. He thought of the way her hair would fall across her face as she laid down next to him in bed and that look as she fought, so hard, to keep sleep away as they stared at one another without saying a single word. The first time they met came back to him in that moment, as if it were happening all over again; he saw her first and he was immediately consumed with her every move – he could not stop looking at her even though he tried. He remembered exactly what she had been wearing, who she had been standing with, and the way the night sky was speckled with a million tiny little lights on a black canvas. He could recall how his hands started to sweat the moment they were introduced, and that, even for years after that night, his breath still became shallow every time she came into the room. He thought of the first time he kissed her and how cold it was standing on her front porch; nearly freezing to death because he was so terrified to make the move. But the moment their lips connected, he knew, oh how he knew, that this was a woman that he wanted to kiss until the lights went out of every day of every year for the rest of time. This woman had been an enigma, an entity, a saint, a harbinger of all that was good in this world – he had fully believed that here wasn’t a single thing he couldn’t face with her by his side. Maybe foolishly, he had felt invincible and that he had neglected the importance of protecting something so rare, so fragile, so unique that he had allowed it to slip through his fingers. His fingers; he now had them on his chest as if he was trying to keep the heart from being stolen from his chest and tossed to the wind. It was then that he knew what he had lost; it was then that he came to the realization that he couldn’t just let her go. Her paces began to quicken as she felt the tears start to roll down her cold cheeks. As she wiped at them she could only imagine that she was wiping away the memories of what they were. She couldn’t comprehend why this had all happened; had it been her fault? She thought about the nights that she yelled at him for coming home late, for not spending more time with her on his weekends, for not being supportive enough for fully enveloping herself into her passion. Had she ruined all of it? Was she the one to blame for the ruin of their relationship? Her pace quickened even more and she paid no mind to the strangers around her as she made her way through the crowd of the board walk. Images began to roll into her minds eye like a projection reel playing out the moments she cherished most; dancing in the kitchen, slowly, with no music, to their own beat, he had dipped her so low she thought he might drop her. But he didn’t, he pulled her closer and kissed her long and hard. She remember the night at their favorite bar that he had stood up, possibly in a slightly intoxicated state, and professed his undying love to her; but had done so in such a way that it was poetic, it was heartfelt, and in that moment with all of her peers and strangers listening, she knew that he was the man that she wanted to grow old with. He was the ONLY man in the room that night; he was the ONLY man in any room on any night. She began to feel angry, not at him, but at herself for walking away, for not trying harder when things got tough. She had realized that she had taken him for granted and that there wasn’t a reason, at least not a sound one that she could think of in that instance, either of them should be acting this way. Their love was too pure, it was too real for them to just toss it aside like they could ever find it again in anyone else. She knew they had fooled themselves in thinking that they were impervious to the tangles of every day life. She knew that they should have fought harder, worked harder at keeping what they had alive and that no love was just a Cinderella love that didn’t require time and energy to keep it whole. With this realization she stopped dead in her tracks. He began to move, his feet clumsily shuffling one after the other in a direction that he wasn’t sure of where they were leading him. But he didn’t care; he didn’t mind that he had run into the man against the railing of the boardwalk without saying a word to him. He just knew that he had to get to her. As he gained momentum he wanted to call out to her, and he knew everything that he wanted to say to her as soon as he saw that beautiful face again. All the things that he had just imagined were what he had deemed the most amazing things that he had ever experienced in his life and that all the rest was meaningless if he didn’t have her with him. He couldn’t live without that laugh, without that sweet voice that tickled his ears every time she said his name. He raced through the crowd, his eyes pacing the faces franticly attempting to locate the love of his life, but they were coming up empty. She stood looking for him, hoping desperately that he would have come after her, but she could not find him. She thought to go back to where she had left him standing so that she could tell him sorry. She took flight, her mind made up that she would go back to him so that she could show him that SHE wanted to make this right, that SHE would be the one to spear head the attempt to right the wrongs and that SHE would fight till she could no longer fight. She ran, careening through the night to make her way back to the man that she wanted to marry and she would, maybe, tell him that she wanted to marry him that very night. They both rushed to one another, looking desperately for the other to make it right, neither knowing exactly what they were going to say, but they knew that words didn’t matter nearly as much as finding each other again. Not just on that night, but finding each other again in their hearts and in the lives they had originally set out to create together. Anxiety began to turn to fear, they both worried that they had lost the other for good. They both began to call out, almost cry out, for one another. He began to give up, he had searched for her and had started to circle back when he heard it – that sweet voice, slightly heightened and desperate now, that so many times before had made him weak at the knees. He turned, and as he turned it was as though he could already feel her. She stood there, tear stained cheeks, chest heaving, and hands over her mouth almost as if she was a statue frozen in time. He couldn’t believe that she was there; he couldn’t believe that she had come back to him. This time, however, his hands and arms and feet did not fail him; all of them complied with the commands of his heart. He rushed to her and pulled her so tightly to him he thought that he might hurt her. He lifted her off of the ground and as he did he felt her gentle arms slide over his shoulder and her precious face find it’s way into the side of his neck as if to hide it from the rest of the world. He held her tighter than he had ever held her before; their bodies on fire and hearts beating heavily against each other like drums. He let her slide down him slowly until their eyes were locked within one another. Like many times before, but so much different now than ever, they looked at one another without saying a word. The only communication was that of her shaken her head as if to say, “Never again, we can never do this again.” And with that he shook his head as if to agree and kissed her more sweetly than he had ever done so before, in a way that neither of them had ever kissed anyone before. They held one another for what seemed like an eternity and, at the same time, what couldn’t seem like long enough.

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