I wrote a crap load today.

here's some of it:

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

She clutched at him.

Lights flickered on her skin by the faint moonlight. And she loved him. She loved him so much.

“What happened?

She shook her head, it had been only a small scare, a child’s cry in the dark. Him saving her from the scary monsters seemed ironic at best. “I love you.” She said.

He smiled at her whitely, “I love you too, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

He was the thing that went bump in the night. He was the fright running through a persons veins, he was the very essence.

“The boogeyman,” whisper in the mind.

“What?”

“It was just the bogeyman. Nothing to worry my head over.”

He moved too fast. No one realizes how fast the bad things run at you until they’re running.

How lovely.

“My sweet, small thing,” he whisperes in my ear. How did I get here again? Would someone please explain it all to me? Love me, get my heart out of me, tear it into pieces and swallow it. Let it warm you like stew, poisoin, liquor.

“My love for you is more then the moon.”

“Do not promise me the moon and deliver an empty sky. Give me a kiss. Something real. Something—“

He kissed her.

“—something eternal.”

My love I’ll never love you as much as I should.

I love you.

She—this one—likes crosswalks. She likes the feeling that one small decision or memory can affect an entire destiny. She loves—craves—the infinite possibilities.

Would you think her cruel for enjoying a disaster? Or would you prefer that she take care of your destiny for you instead of letting you fuck it up? She’s the pretty one, isn’t she? How very pretty; she’s the Orange Lady. The mistress of statues and the patron goddess of crosswalks.

She loves him. She knows she cannot help it. And he knows that he cannot help but fall for he warmth. He wants her, but he wants her warm.

He wants her, but he wants her warm.

“I’m onto you.”

“No, you’re really not.”