The love doctor

Often time's when I go out with a friend, or have a good night gathering of my acquaintances, I'm always approached for advice.

What's funny is its all about men and love.

I never claimed to be an expert, but the women who have approached me were idealistic- a trait I long ago discarded- imaginative romantics, that expect they're love interest to remember what sort of flower they liked, how they had envisioned they're men to tell them how they're eyes reminded them of melted chocolate.

I suppressed my giggles of course.

Now, don't take this the wrong way, my contact with men are limited, I was never a fan of they're long strides in, of the guerilla like stances when they spotted a woman they took interest upon, nor did I like they're voices, harsh, loud and just plain disruptive.

Yet, I observed.

Its funny really, often times I found myself suppressing laughter at a failed attempt of flirting, the classic lean in, the way they crossed and uncrossed they're arms, begging to be looked at.

It was like going to a circus, watching on in disinterest as each performance boarded on the common usual.

Well, now my friends did not see men as I saw them, they envisioned they're love's to be the one, the true, the hero.

and then when that did not happen, they fell, crumbling into confusion.

That's the thing about women, we are so dumbfounded by men, they make you think they can carry boulders when really...they just want an easier way around it.

Women, are the hero's of this age, I am sorry to say this, but my opinion of men has dimmed over the years, call me a cynic, but the odds in finding that one true hero has become a rarity, that is why women tend to be jealous over a satisfied friend with her mate.

It just does not happen that often.

Anyhow, back to my point, My friends come up to me and ask me for guidance more times than I could count, they're high chins and laughing eyes change into the negative, they are not them anymore, they worry too much.

Why?

Because they are consumed with the classic tale and wonderment of: What a man wants!

The key here, and I implement this in my own life, the simple solution of it all.

Don't, stop!

Just don't go there, don't wonder, don't change yourself to please. Be yourself.
To most men I think that is the biggest turn on, to walk on nonchalant of him and any of his antics, to act as if his show was expected and believe that you deserve more than this.

Believe that you are the jewel that many miners would fight for, don't ever doubt it.

I'm not here to relish in my wisdom, simply telling you of the one thing that has worked in my life, when I was shy and expecting I was bombarded with disappointments, but when I matured and realized that I was more than any man could ask for or could have- I don't want to come across as arrogant, but I do really believe that of me and of most  women- I was surprised with the results.

Believe you are desirable and you shall be.

That is my only advice, the only lesson I have merited in matters of the heart, for it is really a game.


Sometimes my advice would not be incorporated with my friends, they do not take it seriously and would turn away to the bosoms of they're mothers where they are counter told to be what her man wants her to be.

And then it starts, the loop of female weakness, where women tell they're daughters to be what they're husbands want them to be, of friends encouraging they're own 'besties' to get skinnier in order to get her man, of misery and companionship, of tears amid masses.

Ohh the drama!

I choose not to envision anymore.

I hope this post would be a reason to ponder for my female readers, of womanhood and what it truly embodies, to look at it as a whole and not of how others paint it to be, seek within yourselves and find what your truly made of.

His Home 2

He was on air.

 His head was empty, his face set in a wide grin as he passed the empty side walk of the quiet neighborhood, all that was left of him was the memory of her and his hasty proposal.

 It was the best thing he had ever done.And it seemed so right to have it said where it all began.

 He drove off making his way back home, intending to break the news to his mother as soon as possible.  He turned alleys, swished past elegant drivers, he looked every bit the menace he was once reported to be, the wolfish laugh that echoed from inside his vehicle seemed to only confirm it.He blasted his stereo speakers, a song he did not know sounded and he hummed to it anyhow.

 Finally!! 

Was the word that went on and on in his head, it was the only word he could think of that described his situation completely.

 He parked his car in its designated space, strolled out into the courtyard of his family home and inside to where his mother preferred to be seated, he saw her soon enough, her spectacles a bit crooked, a cup of red tea in her hand, her eyes glanced from him then back to the tv set, possibly still miffed at him for ignoring her plea's about his smoking state.


 "'Evening."He greeted, the grin still on his face as he closeted the gap, kissing both her cheeks fondly.

 "To you to."She replied in a bored tone.

 "Where is everyone?"He asked looking about the small yet fashionable sitting room.

 "Your sister is studying for an exam, the twins are asleep." She replied, it was never an easy time for his mother, especially after his father passed as a child, most of all it was this time of the evening she was most melancholy, her world was silenced and her children were taken upon they're own lifes and interests to share the night time with her.

 She always sat up late watching old movies, sometimes he wondered if she had watched them with his father too.

 "Mom."He started to say, sitting down on his knee's by the recliner, "I have news to tell…Oh! How you will like what I'm up to."

 She removed her spectacles and looked at him fully, her interest very much perked at his starter announcement. "What is going on?"

 "I decided I'm getting married!" He said a masculine chuckle followed his words, it was so joyful to have his thoughts mouthed.

 His mother's eyes glazed, her hands clasped on her lap, her tea rested on the side table forgotten, and then she touched his cheek, as if to make sure he was there saying the holy words every mother dreamed to hear from her son.

 "You really mean that?" She whispered enchanted.

 "Mhmm." 

"You devil! Who is she?" She asked in an instant coming back to her usual chirpy self."You already know her."Came his reply, his eyes guarded now when he spoke her name.

 His mother sucked in a breath, looked away then turned back to him once more."I can't believe this!"
 
"Why?" His voice was patient but his mood was turning sour fast, he did not want to hear any objections anymore. He was so damned sick of it.

 "She's divorced, a widow! I don't know what she is exactly, but she is not the kind of women society pictures you to choose!"

 "Damn society, Mother. Do you want me to be happy or not?"

 "Of course, I do!" She replied aghast.

 "I already asked the lady, I'm a grown man, I can choose who I want to be with, I don't need you going off choosing for me."

 Her lips thined, and then she glanced away in silence, he swore he saw her eyes go wet, but his masculine mind did not choose to go down that path to ponder, he could not weaken now.

 She seemed to find her voice once again after a moment.

 "So this is it, then."

 "Yes."


 "She'll take you even with out my consent?"

 "I hope so."

 "So you choose her over me?"

 It was those words, damn those words.

 It was the words that no mother should say to her son, it made him soften on his resolve, his eyes saw only her pain, and he realized for the first time how much hurt he would inflict to get what he wanted.

 He felt low, selfish.

 "Its not like that." he argued, though he heard his voice crumble now.

 "I can find you a better bride, I know I can, there are so many beautiful girls out there, love. Untried, with no excess baggage and no expectations."

 "I love her." he said, his shoulders straightening, like a soldier about to go into a sure battle.

 "I know you did at one point, she broke your heart once, don't handed it over so easily again."

 "Its too late."

 "Darling…the woman is at her wits end, a certified divorcee and a widow at that would jump at the chance of marrying you…any girl would."

 "Its not like that with us."

 "Us? You spoke to her before now?"

 "We met in Paris, she was still married, we renewed our acquaintance and she realized early on that she was going to ask for a divorce and come back home."

 He hated how he summed up those memories of her, how her eyes had glowed when she looked up at him, that little detail she did when she scratched her thumb into her palm, how she had looked that night under the stars, it seemed pitiful of him to tell his mother in such a way, but he wasn't going to share those intimate details about her with anyone.

 "How could you?! Have a deliance with a married woman! That poor man! I can't blame him for throwing her out! What a nightmare…Oh god. I need my tea."

 It seemed comical to him now, his mothers reaction, it was exactly the embodiment of all the gossip that would soon come out of them, he did not care a fig what people thought about him, he never had the best reputation when it came to women, but he worried about her, all alone now, she would be easy prey to the wolfs.

 "I'm sorry, mother.  I didn't do anything wrong, I did not touch the lady, we merely met, she was uncomfortable in her marriage. Nothing more, quit with the allegations."

 "Fine, I'll forget I heard anything, but I propose a compromise."

 He listened, did not show any emotions of interest because if he did his mother would swoop in and make him take what she offered by default.

 "If I have any place in your heart, as your mother I beseech you, there are three young ladies that I had always envisioned you with, -perfect backgrounds, beautiful, and conservative- Take this last wish, meet them and decide for yourself if you truly found the woman for you, see what the world has to offer, if you come out sure that you still want the lady then I will give you my full approval and welcome her with open arms."

 His eyes flashed in anger, but he repressed the fumes for now, he had known enough women to know which one mattered, his mother did not know how far he had gone in numbers of women, she did not want him to regret his choice, but what was there to regret?

 A beautiful young woman, who knew him well enough, who he had known well enough, who mystified him with her voice and grace, he was like a deer in her headlights unable to look away, but when he spoke again he did not say those thoughts, he voiced something else entirely.

 "I'll give you one week, starting tomorrow. I'll meet them."

 His mother broke into a grin, then clasped her hands together charmed by his agreement to her plan, and she told him in a sing song voice, that he would not regret it.

 all signs of tears in her eyes dried in an instant.

 *********************

 Sorry for the long wait, but here it is, I apologize if it's shorter than usual, promise the next part would be longer. 


 Thanks for reading again. :) 


 Comments and critique greatly appreciated.

His/Her-Balcony Scene.

It was already dusk, she watched on the sky turn its familiar shade of red and pink, a flock of birds tweeted its retreat to they're hidden nests, the sound echoed through her balcony, her hand painted with all kinds of ink, she had stayed up all night writing again, and had yet to sleep for the day, she yawned, it was too quiet in her olden house, except for her maid, her only confidant now.

As the cheerful older lady brought the antique silver tray in, a lone cup and kettle of fresh hot tea, its aroma filled her senses, it was her only luxury now.
And it brought her so much peace.

She had managed to auction off most of her lavish gowns, which had brought her enough profit to live by for a while.

With a gentle smile, she helped her maid lay the tray upon the small gilded table, she cheerfully lounged onto the bamboo chair, one of her father's most favored piece of furniture that she now cherished.

She had decorated the balcony with paper butterflies on strings, chinese lanterns began to shimmer above her with the coming of night, and she relished this little piece of magic she owned.


It was quiet a challenge running the hefty mansion, but she had strived to keep up its keep with setting schedules and the occasional help she got from her fathers side of the family, long lost cousins and aunts occasionally popped in for a chat, and urged her to reconsider leaving with them, it wasn't healthy for a young woman to live alone after all.


She gave a long breath, sipping her tea, deciding it was no time to dwell on the present, rather than enjoy her moment of now, distant lights flickered open around her on the main street, the familiar wiff of jasmine gifted by the cool breeze was always her undoing.

Bittersweet, painfully so.

And then there was the usual ruckas, Rajo had probably come to clear out the mess in the garden, poor soul, always helping even though she paid him very little.

His footsteps lingered underneath her, and she called to him laughingly to get back to work and not play the poet to her poor harassed maid.

It wasn't until she looked down that she realized who she was truly addressing.

It took her a moment to realize who it was, but the unmistakable built and those eyes, dark and unblinking looking upwards at her, she half expected him to be an apparition or a dream of a long torn memory, a piece kept away from the puzzle of her mind.

She watched as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked up at her, silently, perhaps even memorizing her, she suspected.

Her throat constricted in that awful way it did when she saw him, she turned away from the mesmerizing apparition below and tried to find composure; but when she looked back, he was gone.

So it was my imagination after all.

She sighed in disappointment, although her active mind promised that it was best that it was.

She sat back on her straw chair, staring up at the stars coming to glitter above, one by one they appeared.

And then she heard something else.

A scruff of shoes against metal, when she glanced to her left, she saw hands on the concrete railing, then a face;and then he came afoot, standing all male; feet's away from her.

"You could've rang the door bell." She said to his familiar face, her voice came out soft and not with the sarcastic undertones she had intended to say.

"I like it the old way." He said glancing back at the neglected ladder by the railing, when he looked back towards her, his eyes were grave, the clamp of his jaw was evident as he surveyed the grounds around her.

She saw that it did not escape him, the state of her finance's, and she sat silently, straight-backed, chin high and defiant at whatever let down he was going to say to her.

"You did not write."He said finally, "I tried contacting you at that address you gave me, you never answered." His words were accusing yet his tone was gentle, questioning.

"I couldn't then; the situation was too bleak, He was dying and slipping away fast, what little time I had to myself I was faced with paperwork, besides phonelines were tapped. When the news came out of my estranged divorce, I assumed you heard about it and decided you changed your mind."

He just looked at her, mouth agape.

She shrugged.

"I waited for you. I'm still waiting." He said, his voice full of anguish.

"I can never understand you." She said rising, her hair braided to the side, she was dressed simply in an oversized white shirt and dark leggings, the sight of her would probably send most of her fashion crazed friends to a swoon, but she lingered with him.

"You can have anyone, anyone!"She repeated, "Do you realize the effect you'd have on society, an accomplished bachelor falling for a divorced widow?! They'd call you insane, or worse call me a witch!"

He did not rise to her goading, that confident aura he had, always laid siege on her heart, his hand outstretched to pluck a flower from its stems, the blooms snaked about her balcony in abandon, he circled the small flower between his fingers, then glanced at her.

"You really are a witch." He said as an after thought, smiling her way, his eyes breaking into that familiar warmth, "You gave me no choice when I was fifteen but to look at you, by seventeen I was already at the palm of your hand, but it was when I turned twenty you made sure that I was never to forget you when you left me." His voice turned choked now.

"By twenty two all I could think of was my studies, the friends I had, and my family, yes, there were other girls, there always were, but they were never you. when I saw you in Paris you were a memory, but then you were there…reminding me once more of what I never had, and I wanted you back all over again."

He seemed to gulp away his emotion, then continued in a more leveled voice,"Having you, those stolen moments in Paris validated what I had known, that you still felt for me, you remembered me, and what we had. Even if it was childish.
It was never that to me. As cliche as this might sound, You. You were always the one."

She did not realize until her eyes blurred and she no longer saw him, tears streamed down her face unheeded, then he stepped closer taking her hands in his own, his warm hands calming her own clammy ones.
"Before I heard the news of your return, i was defeated, but when i knew…god. When I heard it, I had to see you, Society be damned."

Her heart burst with a million emotions, her mind churned, memorizing every word and tone, locking it all in the folds of her memory.

"I don't deserve this." She whispered, for she did not dare speak lest she fell into sobs.

" Of course you don't. But you'll have the rest of your life to make it up for me." He said, that devilish grin on his lips once more, and she gave a hesitant smile behind the viel of tears, he check her chin up and goaded a grin out of her.

"I'll let the women call you tomorrow, we'll set the preparations, I hate these customs but we'd best stick to the rules this time,agreed?" He said, and she gave him a nod, telling him with her mystified eyes that she was indeed his for the taking.

With that, he kissed the back of her hand and slipped into the night.

She stood there mystified under the moonlight, a dreamy haze coming to sit upon her heart, she was on air, all smiles and hums till bedtime.



***************************************************************************

Finally its here.

I apologize for the long wait for this post, I hope you enjoyed it.
There are a couple more posts I think for the completion we'll see, looks like all's well with our characters, and we'll soon leave them in a good place.

Thank you all for reading.

Comments are always anticipated!!
XOXO

Currently reading-My Ruthless Prince

Currently Reading-My Ruthless Prince


Its been ages since I read something romantic but I'm currently reading a new book by the infamous Gaelen Foley -Love her.-

The woman brings to life what women want in a man, and then just throws him into the arms of another woman! -SOB-

Hahahahaha, I'm Just kidding....Sortaa. >:^

Anyway here's a looksee of my favorite lines so far.


He reached for the door handle.

"Um, Drake?"

He paused, glancing back in question.

Emily folded her arms across her chest with an irresistible, teasing smile. "I heard them force you into admitting you love me."

"Hmm," he said, rather on guard. "You heard that?"

She nodded, regarding him in amusement.

He looked at her for a long moment. "What makes you think they forced me?"

The joy that broke across her face was like the sun bursting out from behind the cold, formidable mountains.

Her smile beamed: He sent her a wink from the doorway, then he went out and closed the door behind him.



And this part..



"Emily?" he called after her in a low tone.

She stopped and glanced back.

He stared at her. "You've always had my heart."

Her violet eyes lit up. She ran back to kiss him one more time, throwing her arms around him.

"Go to bed," he scolded in a warm whisper after a moment, smiling. She gave him a final, stubborn kiss on the cheek as he playfully pried her away from him.

"I wish you were coming with me."

"So do I. Someday," he said.


The woman makes me gush, and giggle like a teenager while reading her books. (even though I usually appear composed, bored and adult like)

The book is her latest edition in her Inferno Series, which I'm not totally keen on but this book is the best of the lot in my opinion.

<3

His Home

The trip back home was a quiet one, no tumbles in the air, the business class part where he stayed did not have any squealing babies, in fact it was not occupied by anyone except for him, and a few of his own teams countrymen.

He listened as they conversed of what they're going to tell they're firms, what they would keep on the report and what would be kept in memory.

He smiled inwardly as he overheard one of them tell the other that he would taunt his envious co workers with this new found accomplishment, another telling the rest that they would keep they're parisian adventure high on they're resumes.

He on the other hand was not excited on the familiar faces he would see, his broad frame filled the spacious seating, the effect of his bored stare out the window set most of the females on board gushing at the beauteous male specimen on board.

He wasn't oblivious to his looks, but he wasn't one to dwell on it much, looks change and he was never vain, though secretly he had relished the way she had eyed him, from under her lashes, the coy way she would search him from his neckline down to the length of his chest, she wasn't like most of those blushing maidens his mother threw his way, she looked at him in a knowing way, as if she could tell the effect she had on him.

She was practiced now, long gone was the secluded girl he knew, now she was a full fledged lady true. She could bring any man to his knees if she tried.

He tossed his silly imaginings away, clamping his jaw tight.

It didn't matter anymore.He slid back into his seat, Soon he will be home.

*********************************************

He woke up once more with a start, a friendly stewardess had patted his arm to rise him for lunch, he rubbed his eyes open and took the humble meal offered.

"Would you care for anything to read, Monsieur?" Asked the attendant, he merely nodded in answer.

She brought it a couple of business magazines and a newspaper, he picked up the later, intending to go through the new happenings of his local territory.

The front pages read of political outrages, civil wars, massacres and the usual going on of the very disturbed region, but to most this was unaffected news, he ran through it all with boredom registering that naught has been done about the many pressing situations, he surprised a yawn struggling to bring all the pages together so he could go on ahead with his meal.

And all of a sudden he saw it.

In memory of Sheik X….

He double checked the name again and again just to make sure he had not mistaken it, it read after that of his sons and where the funeral reception would take place, there was a small column of the passing mans many tributes to society, but other than that he did not care to read on.

His dark eyes shifted to look outside his window in bafflement, questions running through his head, his awestruck gaze taken in the familiar piece of landing below.

Are you back?

***************************************************

It took him a while to find out all the details after that, and they weren't happy ones.

From what he could snatch up from his mothers gossip, it seemed that she had come back, a fallen woman of divorce.

"Poor thing he did not leave her a thing. What a cruel cruel man!" Said his mother, putting down her tea cup, "Such a lovely girl, so young." she said tutting.

"So she came back? She's all alone in that house?" He heard his sister ask, her face sallow.

"I hear some of her relatives asked her to move in with them, but she refused, Though I do not think she will stay there for long, people are talking, and it won't do for a woman to live alone, divorced or not."

"Poor girl." Murmured his sister, younger and way behind in experience to understand the full meaning of their mothers lectures.

He decided to rise, taking up the most natural excuse that he had to leave for a smoke.

"You better stop with that. "Said his mother sternly, "Did you read those journals I left you about the dangers of smoking…Oh you never listen to me! Just go, go!" said his mother at his unflinching back,as usual ignoring her advisory barbs.

Truth be told he was not leaving to smoke, he had crossed the hallways of the newly decorated house, down the gardens to the garage.

He retrieved his SUV and drove off, to an olden place.

The streets here smelled of Jasmines, her old house; a white Andalusian inspired mansion, with peeling walls, he parked his car far from the house, deciding to take a look around with out the added attention of a motor.

His hand touched the gilded fence, Its been years since he had come here last, he had refused to come back.

They're naughty escapades as children always started off here, with her house as they're starting point, as young adults she had looked down on him from her mothers balcony, too pretty for words, seeming to him like a forbidden princess he would have to wait to touch.

But then it had all happened too quickly, he had applied for college knowing full well who his bride would be when he would come out triumphant but he had lost her, In an instant.

And now, it seemed that he might gain her back in that same amount of time.

God, You never quit! You pin for her even though she treated you like a dog!

His mind seemed to say, but he ignored it, always the rebel, his eyes watchful behind the aviator sunglasses, it was already dusk but he hadn't bothered taking them off just yet.

Do I dare?

He asked himself, a devilish smile already on his lips as he held on the railing, stepped up the fence, and hung on to ledge, tossing himself on to the other side, down to the familiar berry bushes.

Now, where are you?
*******************************************
Okay loves, I almost did not post this today, but I went to bed with a churning mind, had to get up and finish  to post.

Damn, isn't the He delish? A friend of mine read the posts and was like "OMG, You created the perfect clinging man!" LOL, do you think the male character of this is clingy?

I personally think he's a helpless romantic with a dark side to him, but here's to you…love to know what you think. :)

The dream (His/Her)

It was almost noon, his final meeting was adjourned, and he was set to review his work while he was in they're midsts, the effect of they're gazes, some was judgmental others simply contemplative of his work.

He was not a pro, well not in the eyes of these artistic architects of the real world, he was a man with a vision, yes. But his vision was somewhat limited.

He had learned a lot within these few months, it layered him in every aspect of his being, the way he looked at the possibilities was more optimistic now, he smiled more, and found that life was not such a bad place to be.

His eyes roamed over his colleagues, his supervisors, and otherworldly geniuses among his team of revolutionary minds.

He enjoyed every moment, every sweat it had taken for him to produce, the effect of piles of work done, the sense of pride he had with every pat on the back, every congratulating smile.

He had made it here somehow.

And that was something.

She didn't come in his thoughts then, did not intoxicate him with her eyes, and voice.

No, he was still and focused at the task at hand, the world looking only to him, reporters filming in the background as he finally went on to his unveiling.

As he pronounced his accomplishments, the world around him beamed, and glittered, the masses at his feet began to clap, and at the end cheers of hail come to voice at the foreign man before them.

"Bravo, Bravo!" said one, another clapped him on the back and an older french woman tried agilely to kiss him flat.

He was brought up laughing and the camera's told of how he looked, the way he beamed at the international array of faces, forgotten a dream in his head.

Yes, how long has he come to forget.

And here, it had happened.

Her face became lost in the masses that surrounded him, and he finally forgot.

At least for that moment.


*************************************************

She finally entered her old chambers, the white of her walls turned yellow, her bed spread smelled of dust, her father's old room she did not dare enter, she had designed it in her head that it would stay just the way he had left it, an old portrait of her mother by the lampshade, his own picture from his army days tucked into the wood framed mirror of his dresser, the scent of his old spicy cologne still clinging on his grey sheets.

How she missed him.

His smile, the fabled pat on her shoulder when her head was looking downwards, tears lurking in her eyes, he was always optimistic about the world, like it would one day rain flowers.

She did not know how he could do it, he had lost so much before her eyes, everything around them seemed to shrink and disappear, his own career, his early retirement, his business falling into crumbs and all he was left with was debts, and more debts at her lavish education.

Her mother gave up her luxurious life style, of shopping and relying on the help, instead they had let go most of they're servants, they're expensive european cars to used asian ones, she was riding a benz to school when so abruptly she had switched to riding the bus instead.

Her mother gripped at the changed life poverty had introduced, but she wasn't one accustomed to strain.

She had left them when she was thirteen.

Of course being her father's daughter she never once looked back on her, her mother was half french and had taken flight to her family in Nice, she had tried to contact her several times but to no avail. -That was how she had come to speak french like a native, though very few people knew of how she had obtained it.-

She was not one to be discarded then picked up again, she would never take such a person back.

She had decided to keep true to her father's memory, and leave things exactly the way he had left them.

Well, atleast what she could keep the same.

Her marriage was over, and so was her deliance in paris.

The thoughts she had built on they're meetings, what a fool she was.

To think that she could take back the things she had left and just simply start over.

The world was not a white page, and she certainly did not have the means to change it.

Memories, words, and actions took to come where she was now, she had dug herself an exit and she was yet to go through it.

Where would she go from here?

So there she sat on her old bed, a lone lamp open in the darkened house, the walls seemed to hum at her presence, and she tried to ignore the normal fear of anyone who was alone in an old house.

She picked up a pen, an old note book, and began to scribble.

"The world around me has changed, I no longer see the ghosts I fear, the words in my head encourage me to step forward, and the corridors of life seems to light at my every step.

My world has changed, papa.


I am no longer a little girl in need of your embrace, I've grown, I miss you terribly, yes. But I know that our times will all come to an end someday, now, for no reason at all, I live on. I regret not having you feel pride for me, the way you'd look at my failures sympathetically and continue to cheer me on, I never looked upon you that way when you most needed it, papa. I only wished for the things I could not have. I complained about wanting my own car, when yours barely got you to work, I imagined journeys to foreign worlds, when you barely could pay my school bills, I never cared one whit about your composure, the way you looked on to me and smiled, shaking your head at the ideals of a dreamer although promising you'd get me all that I wanted and more. Papa, why do I ache? Why do I fall every time I look up? Why am I lost now? How did you peruse through those dark moments when no one was there?

I have so many questions, yet. The answers I seek are buried with you. I cannot face the world yet, Papa. I will stay here, in the place where you breathed your last breath.

I love you,
Your daughter~


She looked upon the sheet of paper, her eyes blurry, and she blinked the blur away, only to find that her words became wet, and her breath was stolen in a moan.

She brought her knees together and wept, she let her pain seep through her tears, in the private place that was completely hers, she cried.

For her past, the chance at a dream, and her loneliness.

**********************************************************

I Just wanted to comment that this post really made me tear while writing it, I hope my thoughts in words actually succeeded in showing those characters true emotions, please keep in mind that I do not edit. This is a very raw draft, I hope you enjoy reading the His/Her posts as much as I enjoy writing them.

Those characters unnamed as they are seem to really grow on me, and some of you might wonder why I choose to leave them unnamed, well; I don't know. I like the concept of keeping that way though. :P

Oh! Commet please. :)

Until next time,
Adieu . :**

The singalong song

So the other day I was jamming with my baby sister to this really old song...



To my english speaking friends I'll write you the translation, Don't want to leave my lovelies out of this. <3



If you ask the ground about the taste of rain, it will swear it did not quench its thurst.
If you ask the wind, about the road to travel, it will reply He went on to travel.

Repeat x3



If you ask the night about the moonlight، with the ages it has lost its glow.
My love I cannot look, for in your eyes I see our beginnings drowning.

Repeat x2

Chorus:
If you ask the ground about the taste of rain, it will swear it did not quench its thurst.
If you ask the wind, about the road to travel, it will reply He went on to travel.


Orchestra...

The voice of fate made us retreat on our love, every easiness is swamped with perils.
if we drink patience, we reach disappointment, and if we seek glory we are brought down to defeat with the truth.

Repeat All.


If we forget time, wakefulness will remind us, and if we wish for pride, minutes will disappoint.
My luck is fallen, and your luck has followed the same fate, and now a lover mourns his love.






I just love this song, its so beautifully worded though it might sound a bit corny translated...I just wanted to share. :)