Two nights time ago, she lay in his bed with him and cried,
recoiling from his soothing touch, all worked up in a way she would later resent.
Worked up because she had let herself be hurt.
She had tried to kiss him: it seemed so right.
He had been talking, and she had
for one moment
lost the painful thought
that he would pull away from her lips,
red eager needy pleading.

But as it just so happens,
pull away is
exactly what he did.

So shed were tears and the girl turned from him,
hiding the waterworks,
the pain,
the foolishness of her heart.

It nearly cut her in two, when he
breathed her name
in such solemn apology.
So much of her suffering feared his sympathy.

His voice was quiet but urging,
"look at me. "

Timid, stubborn, and wounded, she did not want to look at him.
She was afraid of his soft green gaze and his pity,
upset by how much and yet so little he understood.
She was afraid of his soothing words and how they could so deeply stroke her heart strings.
Why oh why did she have to look at him?
She asked.

He needed to see her eyes.
The request was so sad.
How much guilt does it take to kill a man?
He could not be blamed for her unreasonable unhappiness,
but that fact alone would not stop him from blaming himself.

Responsibility bearing down on her, reluctantly she turned to him,
not sure what to expect
vision quivering and distorted by a veil of tears.

He leaned close, and
he did not kiss her in apology, as she half expected and feared,
but instead, unto the trembling brown in her eyes he whispered:
I
will
never
leave
you.



and she choked and gasped, shook by a sob,
and she laughed.
It was too ridiculous.
He said it again.
Again.

relief, wonder. The girl was
giddy, incredulous, and without a doubt
insane.




-first entry of 2009?
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