A Tail of Two Lovers

I am clearing out things I have on my work computer and just using this as a place to store things I've written in the past, most of it is unfinished.




Her eyes tantalize me. Those amber-honey jewels watch my everystep when I enter the room. With each step I take, I can feel her eyes follow me. Never wandering off to anything else; she watches me like a lioness watches her prey. Her gaze leaves me only when her curiosity is filled. I want to ask her what she sees in me, but how would she respond? What is she thinking? What is it that she wants from me?

It seems like we’ve shared nine lives together. I can recall when we first met. She came strutting in here with “Whatsherface” acting like she owned the joint. But if there was anyone who could own this place, it would be her. She knows it too. She can’t help but know it. Everyone tells her of her beauty and I can see, when they tell her how damn pretty she is, they dream of her eyes and her lips and wish they were theirs. There have been times that I have been around her, admiring her face, or they way her body contours to fit into any image I can think. But when she’ll finally speaks to me, I am so caught up in my thoughts I can’t even remember my name – it’s like the cat’s got my tongue.

At first when we met she was so standoffish that anytime I would come within a foot of her she would say something nasty to me and take off in the other direction. Throughout all these years, she still hasn’t opened up to me. She’ll say “Hi” in passing, but she’s so sassy and never stays around long enough for me to talk with her, I mean really talk with her. At times it drives me crazy. Crazy enough I can’t control myself!

It always ends up the same with her when we fight. We hit each other with our harshest words, our strongest fists, never taking a moment to consider how life will be afterwards. We only stop when one of us realizes we’ve emptied the salt shaker on the others wounds, neither one of us can cough up the courage to have it any other way. Marley, Marley, Marley…



It must be 100 degrees in here. Where is everyone anyway? They always disappear about this time of the day. When they return everyone is nonchalant, acting like they haven’t been gone for hours. Oblivious to what has taken place here. It is probably better that way. I want to talk to Guy* about what is happening with Marley and me but can he help? Will he even care? He probably won’t. He is so caught up with either “Whatsherface” or that damn talking box that he probably doesn’t even care about my problems. Listen to me feeling sorry for myself. He does care and I know it.

In the mornings before Guy leaves, he brings me breakfast and an iced beverage. He strokes my hair softly before he leaves and wishes me a good day. “Whatsherface” isn’t really as bad as a papercut. Before she leaves she gives me a kiss and tries to talk Guy into taking me with her. She never wins. No matter how she pleads or waves her hands, Guy doesn’t bend with his answer.