For K.R, the Dance of disappearanceA Story by E.H. Monroe
The Ugly Papers, a series of off the cuff Monroe style choppings of emotions run wild. What a Monster I was and a brute I have become
Well, ladies and gents, there's a firm grip on a small glass with jack daniels and a hard pipe in the ashtray.
This is the day that pain built, or at least drew up the plans for.
Today I think I'm going to leave a bit of the the black death in the cup for that one.
You know the one.
She was a blond when we met, high cheek bones, but still had that little chipmunk thing going on.
She'd always say she was nervous...even when she meant excited, or scared, or in love.
That happened quickly, you know, one of those things, blue streak of lightning, a crackling that you see and forget, but knew it was close.
She made dinner one night. I had no idea it was going to happen. She just had it waiting. Made the best damn cookies. Chocolate chip with a melted bit of peanut butter in the top.
Sliding the back door open to let her tiny toy chiuhaha in the house. Xena, the warrior dog.
I smoked back then, would head out onto the back porch and take in a massive breathe of fresh oak. I'd lean over the bannister and peek in through the blinds and get glimpses of her in one inch openings. She moved, you know. Moved like a housewife with angel wings. Pots and pans, gotta check the temperature, how's that sauce?
I'd punch smoke rings out into the thin upper NJ air.
I'd swirl little pieces of ice back and forth like playing a minature hockey game.
I'd look back through the blinds and catch her eyes.
We'd share a electric moment.
Deep brown eyes, kids, like pools of swirling souls.
her cheek bones would rise up, I knew she was smiling. She pick her hand up and extend her index fingure.
"I can't take my eyes off of you..."
She'd playfully push it forward and backward in the ol "c'mere" way, you know. The sultry. The goddess in the kitchen. All I existed for. All that was right with a series of wrongs.
Just an inch of her face. Just her eyes.
Just her eyes.
A card left under my dinner plate expressing sentiments that if put here would bleed pixelated love from the screen.
"And so it is...Just like you said it world be
Life goes easy on me....most..of the time"
You showed me that movie with that one chick in it.
Got that song from it. After dinner and before cookies i grabbed your hand and we danced and we fell into The Blower's Daughter like a liquid dream.
That day, the world spun for us. You fit right in the crese of my neck, right?
I know, nervous...or just emotional.
I leaned in and kissed right under your ear.
I held tightly to your shirt.
"Wel'll both forget the breeze...most of the time.."
I pray that you would stop fading like a bad nightmare, or like a fever.
"I can't take my mind off of you"
You would pull back remember? And blow raspberries at me when I went in for a kiss.
This time there was no sound, just the way you would smile crookedly in the nook end of your mouth.
The plates vanished.
You walked backward, smiling.
Now I dance alone. It's different. It's tough. Ungainly. No rythm. you were the breath that kept me balanced.
I stand outside and peek though the blinds, there is an empty space of stone weighted promises, used dreams and a mystery that is somewhere at the bottom of a lake of yesterday.
"so it is..the shorter story
no love no glory,
no hero in her sky.."
Someone said they saw you yesterday...
and for one second,
just one second
my heart started beating again.
E. H. Monroe
The Ugly Papers
© 2011 E.H. Monroe
Shelved in 4 LibrariesAdded on January 23, 2011
Last Updated on January 23, 2011
hate your f*****g guts, NJ
AboutS**t eating fuckbag of the crapocalypse. Dystopian Bard and general word rapist. like me here, and i'll kiss you on the face.. http://www.facebook.com/pages/EH-Monroe/226600554032025 Its here .. more..
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