Choices

Okay, so the last few days have been really hard on me and I don’t know why or how to fix it.  So, I decided to sit down and write today, hoping it’d help.  It didn’t, or at least, not much, but whatever.  But I did it, and here it is.

Note: the ending kinda sucks, but what with the mood I’m in, I figured that if I didn’t find a way to give these two a HEA, or at least a HFN, it’d end in a murder-suicide and we’d have Wes and Travis on-site to solve the mystery… LMAO. 

Side note: I have a new obsession and his name is Warren Kole.  And this is the picture I ogled while writing this short.  I swear, his smile is enough to almost lift this haze of depression I’m fighting…

Not bad, eh?  He’s got a great smile and lovely, lovely lips.  A mouth to die for.  Or to kiss senseless.  *coughs*  Where was I?  Oh.  Right.  Warren.  To make matters worse (better?), he has this deliciously deep voice and this way of standing there that just draws you in.  Completely. 

Anyway… the story.  It’s here.  Enjoy.

--

Choices

I see his face and it stops me in my tracks. Those sultry blue eyes framed by golden lashes. My heart skips a beat and suddenly I realize that he’s no longer mine. That he’s moved on and is loving someone new. She moves into his embrace and one slender arm wraps around his waist, pulling him near. Possessive.

My heart breaks. Watching him direct his endless affection at her is too much and I move to leave. Something tugs at me and I look back, just a glance over my shoulder. I see those full, pink lips turn up at the corners and I can see just a hint of perfectly straight, white teeth peeking out. He used to smile at me like that, like I was his whole world.

He’s pulling me back in again and I’m helpless to resist.

I want to go to him, to tell him I’m sorry and that I want it all back, but I can’t. With him, I’m just not able, not after all that’s gone between us. So I swallow my hurt and I walk away, all the words that needed speaking are left unspoken. All my emotions left bubbling, brewing beneath the surface of my soul

I love you, I need you, I didn’t mean to. I was wrong and I’m sorry. Take me back, please, and save me from myself.

It takes everything within me, but somehow I manage to walk away. Even if I leave a piece of me behind on the sidewalk.

--

I knew it was her from the moment I saw her auburn curls floating on the breeze. Why hadn’t she stopped, said hello? Why was there always so much pain in her bright green eyes?

To say I had no idea would be lying to myself and I hated nothing more than a liar. I knew where that hurt came from and I knew that I was responsible for it. Yeah, she’d been the one to make the mistake, but I could have forgiven her, couldn’t I? So why didn’t I say the words when they came to me?

I love you and we can make this right. I can’t forgive you yet, but maybe in time. I don’t want you to go, let’s give it one more try.

I had been willing to give her another chance and yet, I didn’t. And I regretted it every night when I went to bed alone. Hated myself for reinforcing the pain when it wasn’t necessary.

The girl that had weaseled her way to my side returned my attention to her with a sigh of impatience. Looking at her, I understood in that moment what I needed to do if I was ever going to be happy again. If I was ever going to make things right with my heart. With a grunt, I pushed away and took off.

After her. After my future.

“Wait,” I called. She turned. I smiled. She smiled back, tentative.

I hold out my open arms. She hesitates just a moment and then she comes running back. To me. To us.

--

Last note (had to get one more in, right?): No idea if this will ever go any farther or not, but hey, it’s here and that’s more than I can say for anything else I’ve started lately.  LOL

~Mika

The Girl and Her Ache

Mika’s Note: This is a very personal piece for me.  My best friend had a bad marriage.  Her husband left before their child was ever born, I believe, and if not, not very long after the baby arrived (it’s been 11 years, I forget, so sue me).  That poor child has this huge hole in her heart that he left and she can’t find a way to fill it without finding him.  I wish I could hug her and tell her that she’s so much better off, but I don’t think she would understand, and that’s a good thing, trust me, that not knowing things can be much worse.  Sometimes, it’s better when the Daddies don’t stay.  Just don’t ask me how I know.

I stood listening to the poor young girl just spilling her heart out over the father she never knew. All the hurt, anger and frustration she’d kept locked inside for the past eleven years overflowed and poured out before me. Her mother sat off to one side, frowning. Mom knew how lucky the poor thing was to have never known her father; the girl had no clue.

Yet, I had been on both sides and knew things that neither of them had a clue to. This is why I was there. Mom had the girl’s best interests at heart, and only wanted her child happy. She knew that deep down, once her budding pre-teen found the man she so desperately sought, that she’d be saddened, broken, and disappointed. However, what she failed to accept was that this, like so many other hurtful ventures, was a needed and necessary part of growing up. Something she needed so she could finally move on. Move forward.

Not pleasant by any means, but something the girl needed to do in order to become the person she was destined to be.

I took the girl’s hand and squeezed it gently. She looked up at me, blue eyes full of tears, and offered up a trembling smile. “So, do you get it? Do you understand or are you like her?” She looked across her shoulder at her mother. Not judging, just questioning.

I shrugged. “Don’t blame your mother; she understands more than you can know. She’s just trying to do her best.” She had, after all, been by my side through most of what had shaped me all those years ago.

The girl sighed. “I know, but she’s not making it any easier.”

Nodding, I agreed. It was a mother’s job to protect, to coddle, to keep safe. “It’s because she knows you have a lifetime of heartache before you, she wants to spare you as much of that as she can.”

The girl nodded, I think she knew that all along, but her quest kept her from acknowledging it. The desire to know, to discover, and to find closure burned in her blue eyes. “But I need this.”

Again, I nodded. I knew so well what she meant. I’ve been there. I’ve suffered the daily heartache of having a father who wanted nothing to do with you. At least, in her case, he’d left and gone away. Mine still came home every night, forcing the rejection into my young, pre-teen face, over and over until I no longer thought I could bear it. And yet, still I strove to make him proud, make him accept and maybe, eventually, want me.

Commiserating on her need to fill that empty space in her chest, to find that acknowledgement and approval that she thinks she lacks, I smiled softly. “I know I needed it once too.”

“How did you get past it?”

She is entirely too perceptive for one of her age, I realized suddenly. “I forgave him.”

The blonde child blinked at me and frowned. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” I agreed. Sadly, for me, the forgiveness came too late, not until he’d been taken from me and there was no longer a chance for reconciliation.

“How could you give him that?”

It wasn’t easy. He’d destroyed me, more thoroughly than anyone ever could have. He tore down my defenses, beat my self-esteem into submission, and gave me reason to doubt every thought I’d ever had before or since. And yet…

And yet, it wasn’t him that I hated. Near the end, as an adult, I finally came to understand that it wasn’t him who had abandoned me. It was the alcohol. It was the addiction that had torn him away from his family, his job, his life. It abducted him and replaced him with someone no one knew. And that was what had happened to this child as well. The drugs, the lies, the addiction had stolen her father away from her.

She needed to discover that. Would it be easy? Not by a long shot. Did I think she could handle it? Absolutely. She had the heart of gold, an unbelievable group of people who already loved her, supported her, and wanted her. His rejection would hurt, but eventually, I was sure she could find the strength to forgive as well.

“You just let go. You let go of the ache in your heart, the anger in your soul, and the desire to be perfect for him.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Maybe not now, but soon. I promise you that much. One day, you’ll wake up and discover that you can move on. That you don’t need his acceptance any longer to be a whole, beautiful person. It’ll be the most freeing experience of your life. And then you can truly begin to heal.”

She looked over at her mother again, smiling this time. “Okay, but I still need to find him. I don’t know if I can ever move on if I don’t.”

Mom nodded sadly. “I know, and I will do what I can. And you know, that no matter what, when this is all said and done, that I will be there for you, right?”

The girl smiled more broadly. “Of course. I couldn’t do this without you.”

I smiled. She’ll never know just how lucky she was to have grown up with such a loving family surrounding her. How grateful she should be for that hold in her heart, instead of a hole in her soul like I had for most of my life. I’d not change things for me, my trials have helped me become who I am, but if I can spare one child that anguish, then it’s worth it. If I can help this one child that I adore so much, than I have achieved something worthy.

And that in itself is healing the emptiness inside me, my heart, my soul, my very being, making me whole all over again.

Sorry, Wrong Goddess

Mika’s Notes: Written in October 2007, this was written after discovering The Seventh Sanctum and it’s Grimoire of Questionable Spells.  Do I really need to go any farther?

He whirled his wand in the air and pointed it at the angry shopkeeper. He’d been yelling, screaming and throwing a tantrum for nearly fifteen minutes, ever since the brothers had crashed through his storeroom wall with their stolen go kart. “Hear me now, Goddess Ophisti, save this man from himself!”

A bright green blast of light shot forward out of his wand, hitting the angry man square in the chest. The shopkeeper stumbled backwards, flailing his arms in a desperate attempt to keep his balance. Falling backwards, he landed in a pile of empty boxes that had been scattered by the crash.

All was quiet for about thirty-five seconds when the once-angry shopkeeper leaped up and looked around nervously. Flinging an arm to the side, he smashed a box of Cheez-Its, causing them to fall to the floor, adding to the mess in the storeroom.

“What the hell is going on here?” the shopkeeper asked quickly. “Why are all these boxes on the floor? Why are you two back here? This is my store and I don’t want you here can’t have you here now you’ve gotta go. Didn’t you hear me? You’ve gotta get out of here now before I call the police!”

Roderick looked at his twin, eyes wide. “My gods, he didn’t even take a breath. Who the heck did you invoke anyway?”

Ramos shrugged. “Ophisti, the goddess of calm.”

“No, you dork!” Roderick declared, smacking his younger brother in the head. “Ophelti is the goddess of calm. Ophisti is the goddess of chaos in small doses!”

“Oh crap,” Ramos muttered, paling visibly. “You know what this means then?”

“What? That instead of hitting him with the laser of collected thoughts you hit him with the luminous ray of caffeine? You idiot! Sometimes I’m ashamed to be your twin.”

Dakotah: Interlude ~ Bring Me the Sunset in a Cup

Mika’s Note: Yet another inspired by a writing challenge.  This one was based on the first line of an Emily Dickinson poem of the same name.  This particular piece is just a little over two years old. Poor Sierra. LOL

“Bring me the sunset in a cup…” quote the vampire. “Or how about in a bottle, little one?”

The dark-haired infant squirmed in his crib as his papa picked him up. Dakotah situated his small son against his chest and walked out of the nursery, applying the bottle of breast milk and blood to his lips.

Austen grasped at the bottle of pinkish liquid and sucked for all he was worth. Suck. Suck. Sigh. Suck. Suck. Big sigh. The vampire just shook his head and continued out into the living room where the little dhampir’s mama sat waiting.

“What was that you were mumbling back there?” she asked as she took her son.

“Poetry.”

“Poetry?” Sierra cocked an eyebrow. “A vampire who quotes poetry?” She shook her head. “Now, I really think I’ve seen everything.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Dakotah grinned, doing his best ‘punk’ impersonation.

“Sheesh. What a dork.”

“I’d be careful if I were you, Sierra. This dork has fangs.” He gave her a mock growl.

“Oh yeah. Riiight. Fangs. I think they’re how I got into this situation in the first place,” she lifted the baby outward just a bit to indicate she meant him. “Like I’m sooo scared.”

“Bring me the sunset in a cup,” he began. “Reckon the morning’s flagons up, And say how many dew:”

Sierra raised both eyebrows and looked at her husband oddly.

“Tell me how far the morning leaps, Tell me what time the weaver sleeps, Who spun the breadths of blue!”

“Wow. I’m impressed.”

“It’s Emily Dickinson, and just the first verse. I became enamored of the poem the moment I first read it all those years ago. Nothing has spoken to me quite like these words. It defines a piece of my life that no one quite understands.” He paused and watched her burp their son. “Well, no one that isn’t like me, that is.”

Dakotah walked over and sat beside Sierra. “Please, let me have him again.” Once Austen was nestled quietly against his chest, he went on. “It’s almost like, ‘tell me a story’ and tell me about the day, all you see, all you experience without me by your side. “

“Interesting. So, what brought all this on?”

“I’m not quite sure,” he confessed. “I think it was something about the color of Austen’s dinner.”

Sierra studied her husband for a moment realizing that even after all this time there was still a world of things she did not know about him, and most of which she may never get the chance to discover. That there was more depth to this supposed creature of the night than there was to most ‘deep thinkers’ of her time. She smiled as she wondered what this meant for their child and what kind of man he’d grow to be.

The Trouble with Trees

Mika's Note: WOW!  Less than 400 words!  Whoda ever thunk it, coming from me?  Idea was spurred by something someone said.

As strange as it may sound, a tree kept me in the bar all night. Yeah, I know, wishful thinking, right? But not so. You see, my ex is a freak. He can’t seem to let go and annoys me to no end on a daily basis. And my doctor wonders why I suffer from anxiety. I swear, really.

So, when he caught me out last night, he just had to approach me and get in my face. I hate that more than anything and I just so wasn’t in the mood to deal with his crap. So, when he started in with his ‘don’t you love me anymore’ and ‘why can’t we work it out’ junk, I just leaned over and kissed my new friend. Long and hard.

And she kissed me back.

Needless to say, he freaked even more than usual. Serves him right, but I digress. He ranted, he raved, and then he went out into the parking lot and pulled a chainsaw out of the trunk of his sedan. See, I told you he was a freak. He then took said chainsaw and hacked at the tree I parked underneath that evening. Dumb move, I’m now thinking.

It took three hours for the rescue team to remove the tree from my poor little Miata. Then it took another hour for the insurance adjuster to arrive, pissed at being drug out of bed at so late an hour. Police, hangers-on, and drunks surrounded me. Well, us, I suppose. Lorie stayed by my side as they hauled Karl away, screaming that he’d get me, some day, eventually. She also stayed through the insurance guy yelling at me and the two cute rescue workers declining any payment once they’d heard the full story.

Interesting the evening, to say the least.

Now, I’m not the type to go for a one night stand, least of all with another woman. But hey, anymore, I’m up to just about anything. So, Lorie’s at the door, waving to indicate the tree is now off my car and we’re clear to go.

Apparently our friendly neighborhood tree boys are following us home.

Curiouser and curioser.

But heck… after the night from hell… who am I to complain?

And see, it really was the trees fault I never made it home… at all… last week.

Dakotah: Interlude: A Vampire in Wal*Mart

This was written in January 2005 and follows directly after Sierra's story.  Poor Kotie. 

Things change when you’ve been dead a couple hundred years. I discovered that again just this evening. You see, I’ve been dating a woman 270-something years younger than me (give or take a couple decades), and tonight she’s told me that the impossible has happened.

We’re going to have a baby.

Now, I don’t know how this happened. Well, I know the theory of how and the science behind it but what I don’t understand is the how of it. After all, I’m dead, aren’t I? I guess I’m more alive than I previously thought.

Not even our resident vamp doc quite understands it all. Although, I think he’s holding out on us.

Which is why I’m here. In Wal*Mart. Searching for baby clothes, cribs, and all that goes with having an infant in your home. Unfortunately, there isn’t much open at this time of night. Even in Las Vegas, your options are limited at 2:30 in the morning.

I’m a lucky vampire. I have a beautiful redheaded witch who loves me and doesn’t mind a boyfriend who has a tendency to be a pain in the neck. She takes care of my day-to-day operations and ensures that no one opens the blinds in my bedroom at lunchtime. Despite the fact that she’s been tempted to do exactly that on occasions, she cares enough to resist the urge and I’m thankful. She’s self-supporting and owns her own business. A very modern witch. What more could a bloodsucker want?

But this. What do I do with this? A baby? Seriously. I haven’t been a father since I was turned three hundred and some years ago. My son was only a toddler then. Now he and his mother are nothing more than dust. Every last parenting skill I might have ever had is dust along with them.

Sweet Sierra. She’s too good to me. In an effort to ease my anxiety, she has purchased nearly every book she can find on fathering and parenting. And even one or two on being an older father. I doubt that I’m what they had in mind when they wrote those. Not that I can really comprehend much of what was inside those books. During the short period of time I was a father, my duty was to keep my family from being murdered and hopefully bring some money in. Everything else was up to my wife.

I am so not prepared for this.

So here I still am, at Wal*Mart, at 2:45 on a Wednesday morning. Pink or blue? Yellow or green? How am I supposed to know? My son wore black, white and grey. Not much else was allowed for young men back then. They aren’t kidding when they say things were better in the good ole days.

I’m in over my head, I think. When I get home I’m going to leave my credit card for Sierra and let her do the shopping. After all, what’s the rush? There’s still 30 weeks to go until D-Day.

And there’s no doubt she’ll know better than I do.

Complicated

Mika's Note: Since I had to go register my new truck today, I sat and wrote this on my phone.  Yeah, I know, how sad am I?  But hey, it kept me occupied and now you get some fresh, new material

WARNINGS:  A tiny bit of bad language, sorta explicit scene, and some yummy m(ale)/m(ale) action...  You were warned.

(August 21, 2008)

"Hi, I'm Deke..." he began that night, "and it's complicated."

Complicated? Calculus is complicated. This? This shit was insane. Now, it all started out nice and normal and then, before you know it, his fangs are in my dick.

See? Complicated, my ass.

What's worse is, with the way he was sucking on me, I didn't even notice at first. But then I has to get nosy. I had to see what that beautiful mouth looked like wrapped around my cock. Freakin' idiot.

I pushed myself halfway into a sitting position and looked down at all those long auburn curls... And he looked up with those entrancing amber eyes and smiled.

And then I saw the blood.

Deke must've sensed my building panic because at that moment, he swallowed me whole, took a drag of my manhood like it was some sort of fleshy cigarette and made me come. Hard.

I woke up a few hours later, exhausted, hungry, and ready for more.

Deke grinned and handed me a glass of orange juice. "I told you it was complicated."

I repeat: complicated my ass.

A Journey of a Thousand Steps

Mika's Note: Have I ever told you how much I like to lie to myself?  LOL  But seriously, I needed to write something and this just popped out.  Mind you, it's all true.  Well, all except the power guy.  My meter's read remotely. LOL  But um, well, I did fall flat on my face across the front seat of my truck this morning.  *sigh*  Just a day in the life...

A Journey of a Thousand Steps…

(August 21, 2008)

…begins with a fall. Or so I had heard and never really believed.

I woke up feeling ill. My annual summer cold, I figured, so I gargled with some high octane mouthwash and headed downstairs to feed my fuzzball of a hamster and get ready for work. I packed my lunch, grabbed my cell phone, my mp3 player and my book. After dumping my stuff in the passenger’s seat, I climbed into the driver’s side, dropped my phone into the cup holder and went on my way.

Halfway to my morning fix I realized I’d forgotten my wallet. Damn! I turned the truck around and headed back home. Luckily, I wasn’t far.

Grumbling, I stumbled into the house, grabbed my wallet and almost ran into the meter reader. Was it time for the power to be read again already? I cringed at the thought. “Sorry,” I mumbled, embarrassed but not surprised by my clumsiness.

Sighing, I tugged on the door and proceeded to climb in… only to have my foot slip off the running board. My foot loosing traction caused my shin to bash against the runner and my knee to become close friends with the edge of the truck. Being the ever-so-graceful person that I am, I flew face-first into the bench seat of my Dodge, smacking my head on the steering wheel.

Lovely. Just. Freaking. Lovely.

Rubbing my head, I regained my composure and pulled myself to my feet. Looking up, I gazed right into the deep brown eyes of the power guy. He stifled a laugh, I could tell. “Yeah?” I asked.

“You okay?” Yeah, he WAS laughing. Jerk.

“Um, yeah. I meant to do that.”

“Okay… if you say so.”

“I do.”

“Be safe then.”

Yeah. As if. But before I could comment, he turned and walked down the driveway to his truck, shoulders shaking at my expense.

Darn him anyway.

Just wait until next month.

The Break Up

Mika's Note: I wrote this as a pre-Blake Ali story.  I had gotten a challenge from my writing group to 'write about what people would find in your trash' and ran with it, although I don't think I ever shared it with them.  I think that I had finished the first of my Code Red stories at that point and although Ali made no bones about the fact she and Bryan were no longer an item, she never mentioned why.  I thought that finding not just her boyfriend, but also her commanding officer digging around in her trash to be a good enough reason.  Men, can't live with 'em and you just can't shoot 'em...

The Break-Up

(January 31, 2007)

“Bryan?” Allyson questioned, stepping inside her small apartment on base.

Looking up guiltily from the trash strewn across her kitchenette floor, he spluttered, “What are you doing here?”

“Um, I live here. Sometimes.” She came around to face him. “The question is what are you doing here? And why are you in my garbage?”

“You’ve been acting strangely lately,” he told her, standing and brushing his hands off. “I thought I’d investigate.”

“Investigate?” she asked, incredulously. “Looks to me like you’re snooping!”

“Look,” he said, attempting to placate her, “I’m you boyfriend, but I’m also your superior. It’s my job to make sure you’re at your best.”

“Boyfriend,” she laughed. “Not for long!”

“Now wait a minute! I’ve found some rather incriminating evidence that you’re going to have to explain!”

Ali rolled her eyes, forcing herself to calm down. He was in the wrong, after all. “Go for it, Bry. Make my day.”

He lifted up a movie ticket stub. “What’s this?”

“A movie ticket?” She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on already.

“Who’d you go with?”

Closing her eyes and counting to ten, she responded calmly, “Alex.”

“Why’d you go to a movie with him?”

“Because he’s my friend and because Shana was on a date.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, setting the ticket stub aside. “And this?” He held up another piece of paper.

She leaned in closer and grinned. “Dinner receipt.”

“Fancy restaurant,” Bryan observed.

Her grin broadened. “Yeah, it was. Nice wine, yummy tiramisu.” She knew she was baiting him, but she didn’t care. If the jerk was going to sift through her garbage, he deserved it.

“Who did you go with?”

“Why don’t you look at the signature on the receipt? It’s not mine.”

“Hmm, “ he studied the signature very carefully. “Reid. Damnit Allyson! Why didn’t you just tell me you and Shana had dinner together?”

“One: it isn’t any of your business. Two: I figured that if you’d spent all this time digging through my trash, you’d have figured it out by now!” She was tired of playing games with him. God only knows what was in her trash, but she knew that something incriminating had to be in there.

“Why’d you two go to such a ritzy place?”

“I keep telling you that it isn’t any of your business, but you just won’t listen, will you? I had some good news that night and she treated me to a special dinner. Friends do that sort of thing, you know.”

“What good news?”

“She’d just told me she’d found a new boyfriend,” Shana commented from the entrance to the kitchen. “One that doesn’t dig in the trash.”

Ali flashed her redheaded roommate a ‘thank you’ look, then went back to Bryan. “Anything else? So far you haven’t proved a damn thing!”

“Explain this!” He triumphantly held up a limp piece of something.

“What the…?” As she studied the item in his hand, it became so much clearer. “Oh, that’s right. It’s a condom. Can’t imagine why you wouldn’t know what one of those were, Bryan.”

“Damn you!” he screamed, face turning red. “Why can’t you just answer the question?”

“Because you’re invading my privacy!” she yelled back. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I share this place with Shana. Did it ever once occur to you that any of those items might be hers?”

Apparently not, because he hung his head and wrung his hands. “You’re right. I never once thought that…” his voice trailed off as he remembered what he was holding. “Please tell me this is hers…”

Shana turned bright red and nodded. “Now, do you mind?”

He tossed the used latex into the garbage. “Sorry. Would you…”

“Sure.” Red gave her roommate a ‘call me’ gesture and walked out of the kitchen.

“Bryan, this has got to stop.”

“What?”

“This,” she waved at the kitchen.

“This is the first time I’ve gotten into your garbage,” he protested.

“Maybe so, but you follow me, you check the messages on my answering machine, you look to see who’s called my cell phone…” She paused as it all began to sink in. “You’re becoming obsessive and overbearing. Not to mention possessive and untrusting.”

“Please tell me you’re not seeing someone else?” he begged.

“I’m not. Yet.”

“Then… the dinner?”

“I’ve been promoted.”

“Really? That’s great! We should…”

She interrupted him. “Bryan, no. This isn’t going to work. Especially now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Were you even listening to me before? You are becoming the clingy possessive boyfriend. The kind of man I cannot trust. And now that I’m going to be gone more and have more responsibilities, it’s only going to get worse. No thank you.”

“So, that’s it? It’s over?”

“Yeah, it is.” Her voice softened suddenly. Resting a hand on his arm, she continued, “Grow up some. Learn to trust me. Then we’ll see what happens, okay?”

He nodded sullenly.

“Look, you’re still here and so am I. We don’t have to stop seeing each other completely… I just can’t have a relationship with you right now. It’s getting to be too hard. And this,” she motioned to the mess on her floor again, “was really the last straw.” She patted his arm and moved to leave the kitchen. “Now get… I’ve got a date.”

“But you said…”

“I’m just teasing. I’ve got a class tonight. Now scoot!”

“On one condition?”

“Shoot.”

“You’ll have dinner with me tomorrow?”

“As long as you promise no more spying!”

“You’ve got it!”

“Good, gimme a hug and then go. I’ve got to change.”

Bryan hugged her and held her close. Giving her a friendly kiss on the cheek, he left her apartment, wondering. “Will we ever be okay again?”

Desperation

I wrote this one night in the middle of a really bad bout of depression. Felt like no one I talked to cared, and those that I knew WOULD care, I didn't feel like I could burden them with what I was feeling. So, I wrote, just like I always do. I'd been listening to Miranda Lamber's CD Crazy Ex-Girlfriend a lot at the time and her song Desperation kept haunting me. So, I took a few lines from the song and here we are. Click on the link in the song's title above to listen to it. (Thanks Miranda, hijacked that link straight off your site)

~Mika

Desperation

(March 25, 2008)

Desperation…

It’s true, I can’t take it any longer. The hurt, the pain, the frustration, all the crap you throw at me on a daily basis. Why not take it somewhere else? Find someone new? I’m desperate for a release, for a break, for just one moment alone without your memory or your false mouth.

I wish you wouldn’t always feel like you have to share it with me. Take it away, keep it to yourself, tell your lies to the wind. Just don’t come around here, expecting me to say okay. Knowing that I’m weak and willing to give in, just for one more night.

There's danger in frustration

The anger bubbles, simmers deep inside. I wait, and I hope and I pray. Pray that you’ll see the light, and come clean, for me. Never works, won’t ever happen. Mile upon mile of dusty desert road unfolds and covers what was left of this love.

I hold the handle, grip the trigger. Here you come again.

Complicated words slipping off of your tongue and ain't one of them the truth

Baby, baby please, ya just gotta belive me. Won’t happen again, didn’t mean a thing. How can I believe, after all this time, after all these lies. Come, let me hold you; make you forget your pain. My love is a force and it won’t leave you stranded, alone.

You come closer, my will is weak. Heart screaming, “Never again!” I take a giant leap.

It all comes undone, falling, falling down to the asphalt. Landing hard, I land on my heart. Just like always. Just the way you always made me fall.

I'm still desperate for you…