romance-love-heartache

I went for walks across the fields in my cozy, cotton-knit shirt, my worn out jeans, and my cowboy boots. I would stand at the pasture fence and watch the sun set. One day, pink ripples trailed its red ball; then the next it was a yellow bulb shining against gold-dusted clouds. Though it seemed as if heaven was on the other side of the hill, for some reason, the sunset was sad. At night, I would sit in the rocking chair by the fire with a cup of coffee and a book in my hand, a practice I had grown to love over the years. But what was once refreshing was now depressing. And when I stopped to ask myself what was wrong with me to see the world as so dull, dark, and worn-out looking, I remembered.

I__e learned that when people are hurting, they need a comforter, not a commentator.

She shook her head, and we parted, kissing, as the first beams from the sun burst forth behind us. When I returned to my bedroom, the scent of her hair remained on my pillow. For the first time in my life, at the age of twenty-five, I was in love.

Eden hid her smile in my hand and leaned down and kissed me. I took her face in my hand, her velvety skin like energy against my fingertips. Her love for her family and for people who were hurting all collided with her stunning beauty and made her irresistible. I kissed her forehead, her cheek, her neck, and her chin. Our noses touched, and she drew a shaky breath. Her hair hung around my face, creating a veil that hid us from the world.

So we went for a stroll in Alumni Park, a grassy lawn in front of Pepperdine that overlooks the coast. Deer trickle down from the hills and rocky bluffs to graze there. The coral trees rise like watchtowers over a pond where fresh water reeds grow, providing a small refuge for ducks and wild birds. At night, a full moon leaves a trail on the ocean__ black waters, and the constant coastal breeze disturbs the tree limbs, sending their leaves into a continuous stirring.

After spending night with woman remember her is a fool

As a child, crisp spring afternoons were spent wading along Reedy Creek just beyond the field. Then came the heavy breeze in the autumn, pushing off the almond, auburn, sugar-yellow and apple-red leaves into the creek, providing rafts for dragonflies. In winter, the snow upon the wood became an eerie deep, and the occasional gliding of an owl would be spotted from our bedroom. Then, to spend an afternoon walking in a snowy wood and find a scarlet red cardinal perched on a white limb, you would think God arranged that picture just for you.

She was wrapped in my jacket, almost swallowed by it. You never realize how small a woman is until she wears your clothes.

Forgiving doesn__ mean forgetting. Forgiveness is you not letting your hate and anger rule your life. Because it will, whether you realize it or not. When you free the offender, you__e freeing yourself. Your forgiveness or lack of forgiveness has no effect on them. It__ your journey. It__ your struggle.

Grandpa stopped and looked at me. I paused, too, knowing this meant he had something important to say. His body was frail, but when he stood with his chin up like that, staring into my eyes, I had no choice but to respond with complete honesty. He could level me with that look. I was like a vulnerable child every time he did it.

ROMEO :'Tis torture and not mercy. Heaven is here,Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dogAnd little mouse, every unworthy thing,Live here in heaven and may look on her,But Romeo may not. More validity,More honorable state, more courtship livesIn carrion flies than Romeo. They may seizeOn the white wonder of dear Juliet__ handAnd steal immortal blessing from her lips,Who even in pure and vestal modesty,Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.But Romeo may not. He is banishèd.Flies may do this, but I from this must fly.They are free men, but I am banishèd.And sayst thou yet that exile is not death?Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife,No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,But __anishèd_ to kill me?___anishèd_!O Friar, the damnèd use that word in hell.Howling attends it. How hast thou the heart,Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,A sin-absolver, and my friend professed,To mangle me with that word __anishèd_?

When I was twelve, someone stole all those dreams of normal from me." ~ Blake

Here__ the thing about falling for someone who__ already given up; there__ no promise of tomorrow. There aren__ any words of comfort that can be said, no glimpse of a positive change. Every moment, every thought could be their last. It__ like you__e helplessly walking into quicksand, waiting for the muck to cover your mouth and eyes until you can no longer find a way to breathe. No, it__ more like jumping from a high bridge without the promise of water underneath.And I fucking hate heights.

As the episode of Scandal ended, I sat up in my bed and thought, I have to read it again. It was driving me crazy, so I got out of bed and skipped down stairs of my comfy loft on the east side of Paradise Hills. Once downstairs I slipped the letter out of the side closure of my briefcase. I walked back to my bedroom, and I began reading the note left for me.

A nation forgetting its own laughter is in a sad state of affairs

He should make you smile...always...and when he makes you cry it should be out of passion! _

I wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by the man of my dreams.

Their marriage was cold and tedious. Formal and unloving. Stale even. She never had any regrets like this with Jack. With Jack, a rainy day would be cheerful.