Writing: Moment in Time - Checkmate

His drink tasted like liquid candy, gliding down his throat to mix with the several he already had tonight. His vision was tunneled, movements slow, thought process only reaching as far as his next order. This was becoming typical of late for him. His friends, conversing around him, let him be as he sipped his rum and coke, save one. She pestered him, bought him drinks when he should have stopped drinking, but he let her anyway. The attention was good, he thought. He was still able to put together enough brain power to realize she was hitting on him, and again, he didn't care. The attention was gratifying. The casual touches she gave him on his hand, arm, shoulder, and face, all stirred a side of him that hadn't been reached in a while. He let her flirt and he flirted right back, listening to their voices combine and come through crystal clear in the crowded, noisy bar.

She wanted to step outside and he agreed, following her as she led him by the hand. He couldn't help but notice the softness of her skin, the thin sheen of sweat glazing her exposed arm, neck, and chest. Stepping into the cool summer night, she asked for a light, one he was happy to oblige for her. Striking the flame, he watched it light the thin cigarette resting between her red lips. He had to shake himself out of it, he was staring too long, but she noticed. Her smile said a thousand words and each word he wasn't sure if he understood their meanings, but he was well aware of their intentions. She was moving closer to him, or at least he thought she was. He may have been moving closer to her, it may have been mutual moving, or he could just be stumbling forward, intoxicated by liquor and the moment. He listened to her talk and she listened to him. Her hand resting on his arm to emphasize points, staying just a moment longer than it should have if it did not have other motives behind it.

She moved a step forward, her eyes searching his, looking for some clue that this is what he wanted. He found himself letting her move forward, not saying the words he should, but enjoying the contact, the feeling of being wanted, even if it was only for this moment. He liked the fact that a woman took the reigns and showed her affection. He was the one who usually took the initiative, and it was beginning to get the best of him. He needed to be loved too, shown that he was loved, and she was willing to do that. She moved a step closer, smiling as he realized his hands were resting on her hips. She looked up at him, a warmth hiding in her blue eyes, a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts, and an invitation to enjoy both of those all he wanted. He slowly pulled her towards him, her head turning slightly to the side, anxiously awaiting what was about to come.

Her eyes opened a moment later, wonder and shock replacing the lust in her eyes. He stopped, a sudden soberness enveloping his entire being. He apologized profusely and left, briskly walking to his car and driving off. His mind was in shambles, his heart beating faster than it ever had. He enjoyed the feeling of being loved out loud, but he knew that he almost did something he swore he would never do. He knew he was dangerously close to being swept away by the feeling, but was able to save himself and his girlfriend. He arrived back home and quietly crept into the bedroom, careful not to wake her from her dreams. He looked down at her, wondering why he felt the way he did tonight. It was her first time home in weeks, returning just this day from her trip to see her family. As he looked at her, he saw the woman he loved, and while she may not express it as he does, he knew she loved him, or at least hoped so. With a sarcastic smile on his face, he walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He knew he would be the more affectionate one, that's just who he is, he couldn't fight it anymore. Looking in the mirror for a long moment, he stared into his own being and said, "Checkmate".

Poetry: Walking

When the dust settles,
the streets are clear,
warm rain falls on my head,
tears from the sky.

My shadow is company,
companion and lover,
without a soul or judgment,
the hollow conversation echos.

Aimless walking in the dark,
each step leading somewhere and nowhere,
every footfall seems familiar,
your door stands open.

A cool rush of central air,
mixing in the warmth of a home,
My clammy skin and the heat of yours meet,
my destination reached forever.

Writing: Moment in Time - True Love

The call came at 12:01am, waking him from a dead sleep. He fumbled for the phone, knocking it off the end table and on the carpet below. He groaned and looked down at the number that was calling. Community Hospital. His blood froze as a million possibilities ran through his head. He scrambled for the phone, sleep the farthest thing from his mind, almost as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on him. He answered and listened to the voice. His heart stopped. Of all those million possibilities that ran through his head, one near the top of the list was true. He said he would be right there and threw the phone at his bag. Scrambling into his clothes and fighting with his shoes, he tossed some extra clothes in the bag with his cell and was out the door in less than a minute.

He could barely remember the drive, not even to this day can he recall exactly how long he was on the road. It seemed like he got in his car and got out, already at the hospital. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him and pushed his way past the few people at the main desk that were there at this time of night. He asked, wanted, demanded, an update. The woman at the desk had seen this before and was ready for him. Her calm, soothing voice helped take some of the panicked edge away from his. He calmed down as she said that it was fine and he could go in now. He walked down the corridor, past an endless hallway of doors that all looked the same. Each doorway brought him closer to his destination. Each step made him tremble more than the last. Finally he was there, staring at the numbers on the door, hearing the light crying on the other side. He wanted to open the door and rush in, but his mind had frozen his body. He struggled to control the raging emotions of anger, fear, and happiness, each fighting to burst forth.

He opened the door and looked at her, his heart in his eyes, pushing the tears down his beard-covered cheeks. She looked up, fear in her eyes. Fearful that he was going to leave her. Fearful of what he was going to do, going to say, not going to say, not going to do. He took the scene in with a single glance and walked towards her bed. Each footfall taking an eternity to complete. She raised her bandaged wrists, covering her face with her hands as a torrent of fresh tears erupted from her. He gently lowered her hands, taking them in his own. He glanced at the bandages and looked back into her glistening eyes. Every word he was going to say was unneeded as she understood the deeper words that he was saying. I'm glad you didn't succeed. I don't want you to leave. I'm not leaving. I will always be here for you. All the words that his eyes spoke to her and all the words his lips could have said to her meant little, only the words his heart softly whispered into hers mattered. I'll always love you.

Writing: Moment in Time - Late Night

There was a flaw in the design, he was sure of it. He had gone over the notes and plans for weeks, trying to find out where the flaw was, but like a fly buzzing around his head, it kept avoiding him. He rubbed his sore temples and glanced at the clock.
1:45. . .great.
He shut down his computer and gathered up his notes, wondering if he will find some place open on the way home that sold aspirin. A voice command wearily spoken activates the rest of the office shut down as he leaves. He walks to the door, waving goodnight to an equally weary security guard. At least he was doing something productive, he thought. The night air was warm, sticky. A fine film of sweat had formed on his skin in the five seconds it took for him to leave the building to noticing. He sighed deeply, taking in the wilted flower stench that always seemed to be outside the door and headed to his car.

He was never sure where the man was hiding, and if he had to admit to himself something, he would have had to admit the man did a heck of a job hiding where there was no cover. The fight didn't last long, lasting about as long as a fifty-something scientist versus a twenty-something thug could last. He wasn't even sure if a single blow landed on his attacker, but he was damn sure that most landed on him. As he hit the pavement, his glasses flew off, skidding across the parking lot. He felt his body become almost weightless, though he was unable to move. He could feel his pockets being turned inside out and thought, with a smile, that the assailant better like the dollar menu at McDonald's. As he felt a warmth coat his face, he noticed the security guard watching from the door. He felt the warm, sticky air get even stickier and thicker. He watched the guard's face look at him, seeing the tears streaming down that poor old man's face. After that, he saw nothing.

Poetry: Bending (But Not Breaking)

Push,
push all you want to.
My smiles will coat your rancor,
but I am bending, not breaking.

Love,
love me like your honeyed words imply.
My kisses will soak in your tenderness,
but I am bending, not breaking.

Demand,
demand all I can give plus one.
My body will toil for you like it has for no other,
but I am bending, not breaking.

Smile,
smile at me and give the sweetest looks.
I will hand over my heart as well as my hand,
but I am bending, not breaking.

I will take all you give,
be it venom or honey.
I will give back adoration,
adoration by the bucket full.

Let loose your most heated temper
or your most passionate kisses.
I will take each in each measure,
giving back only kindness.

This is strange to you, I know,
this is not what you ever expected, I know.
Through all my giving I will always be me, I know,
change me if you can, I will bend, but not break,
this I know.