The way she does it

It is not an easy love, the way she does it. It reminds me – vividly, oddly – of the shocking red of a determined flower. A flower that lasts the winter, when everything else goes to grey around it. Is this you, Ben, over my shoulder right now? Sending me the image of a flower, when I think of Maggie? Because that’s not what I see for myself when I look at her, here beside me. I see something so much stronger than that.

There is nothing delicate to the way she loves, Ben. But as your mistress cries in my arms, I suddenly understand that this red flower of yours is something the fading flowers – the grey people, like you and me – have always wanted as our own.

~ Lucy, LOVED

“The world is little, people are little, human life is little. There is only one big thing – desire.” ~ Willa Cather

Women like me

Well-behaved women seldom make history – but they make for lovely girlfriends and wives, wouldn’t you say? Forgive me. There’s something bitter on my tongue today – in my fingers too. The burnt taste and feel of men like you. Wanting a piece of women like me (but never the whole) …

So many times I’ve apologised (even now!) for resisting the border of how much I should be. So many times I’ve nearly believed your limitations. It can drive a person crazy, you know. Being wanted in parts like that. Reflecting another’s need to see in the dark. Never once being seen (loved) as you are.

A reminder: I am light, bright, blinding. We all are, women like me. So keep your shadows, and the length of your arms. You have nothing more to offer a woman like me. Drunk, sober (mostly somewhere in between), I am now solely concerned with what I see.

Aphrodite at body, remember