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The Fool

I was the fool. 

I was the fool that said we could still be friends. 

She invites me to the movies. Foolishly I oblige. 

She smiles that smile so sweet. The one strangers can't help but comment on. Compliments that ignite the sparkle in her eye. The blush in her cheek. 

Little does she know, it's that very smile that tightens my chest, that twists the knife.

But I can't blame her.

I was the fool.

I was the fool that said we could still be friends.

We sit close. We have no choice. 

In the darkness I smell the lavender and orange in her hair. I hear the song of her breath. I feel the warmth of her presence. 

Little does she know, it's that very smell of lavender and orange that causes my tears, it's that poetic rise and fall of her breath that rebuilds my wall. It's that exact warm presence that ignites the match that inflames my courage to love again. 

But I can't blame her. 

I was the fool.

I was the fool that said we could still be friends. 

We walk out together, not hand in hand, not side by side. The streets are busy and she's a little ahead. 

We stop at her car and she hugs me.

She's a villainous murderer. Me, her latest victim. How could she intend to do anything but kill me? 

Doesn't she know what a hug does to me? A mere brush of her skin against mine sends me spiraling down into anxious despair, so why the fuck would she hug me?

She knows better. 

I can blame her.

I do blame her.

I was the fool that said we could still be friends but she should fucking know better. She should know that shit ain't possible. She should know better than to smile like that and smell like that and breathe like that and emit that goddamn, fucking glow. 

No.

No.

I can't blame her. God, how I want to blame her but I can't.

It's not her fault. 

I was the fool.

I was the fool that said we could still be friends. 

I was the fool that fell. 

Red Hot: An Ode (In Pictures)

Reeeeeedddddddd!

Reeeeeedddddddd!

I'd trust you with my taxes...and my vagina. 

I'd trust you with my taxes...and my vagina. 

Rough me up...red style.

Rough me up...red style.

You know those redheaded, bearded hipsters that everyone hates? I want to sit on their faces. 

You know those redheaded, bearded hipsters that everyone hates? I want to sit on their faces. 

Michael...my heart is yours.

Michael...my heart is yours.

He could get tough with my mud.

He could get tough with my mud.

I'd go to his show. 

I'd go to his show. 

I'd meet his parents. 

I'd meet his parents. 

Read me a book, please.

Read me a book, please.

Praise Jesus.

Praise Jesus.

Our Love Child, all grown up... :) Mommy loves you!

Our Love Child, all grown up... :) Mommy loves you!