Romance 5

My fault. Goddamn it, all my motherfucking fault. We should never have come here. Never. I was a fucking idiot. A damned fucking idiot.
The men surrounded us, three of them, one with a gun, the other two sharing an already bloodied bat. Three men, a gun, a bat, and the two of us: the composition of our hell.
There was no fire and brimstone to illuminate us, only a cool spring evening, with a myriad of brightly shining stars in the middle of a blooming park. I had thought it'd be romantic. I was wrong.
My hands were roughly bound, my chest hurt every time I breathed, my leg felt like it was on fire, and I could taste the blood trickling from nose. At least, I thought it was my nose. It could have been my fucking brain for all I cared. All of it paled to the pain of watching her. And them.
Her binds were not of rope, but flesh. A flesh that moved, explored, assaulted her, every movement another torment. A flesh that beamed when she sobbed, savored the moonlight in her tears, and sought any way it could to induce more. It didn't have to try hard.
She had struggled. We both had, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't that we were afraid of dying. It wasn't ourselves we were afraid for. It was each other. Really, what can you do when a person levels a gun at the person you love more than your own life and says "Stop or I blow his fucking brains out." She'd stopped. Even when I yelled for her to keep running, it was already too late. I got my nose broken, and she got a hand down her blouse. Would that it had stopped there.
She'd screamed when it went down her skirt. That was her second warning, and the moment when my leg had become intimately familiar with the bat.
I looked for options, but there was no way out. The one I took for "the leader", fat with greedy eyes, counted our money, his bat forgotten on the ground, as my lover was groped, and I could only watch. This was just a prelude, an opener to the "main event."
I wanted to scream, to break free, to tear each one of their fucking heads off, to take her into my arms and never let go. I wanted to be the hero.
Instead, I got to vomit, tears streaming down my face, my head held by my hair, a gun leveled at my skull. I wished I could help her, free her, rescue her, die for her. But all I could do was stare into her terror-filled eyes and try to let her know how much I loved her. For all the good it did.
The fat man finished counting and crammed everything of value into his pockets.
"Well, I'm afraid yore a bit short. Gonna' have t' find another way to pay, heh heh."
His eyes left little doubt what he expected.
"Bastard I'll kil-"
I was answered with a backhanded slap and a gunbarrel jammed into my head.
"One more word outta you, and you'll wish I'd killed you both."
I stared defiantly, my eye rapidly swelling shut.
"Now, fellas, what say we stop playin' around an' let get o' her. Let's see what she's got under that purty dress. No, no, let her take it off. Nice and slow. Heh, wouldn't want loverboy here to break anything else, would ya sugar? Go on, I ain't got all night."
With a renewed burst of tears, she began to undress. Her hands shook so much it seemed like she'd never be able to remove her bra, but with a bit of "encouragement", she managed.
She stood in the moonlight, naked. And beautiful. More beautiful than I had ever seen her. I sobbed again.
The sob turned into a lurch when he dropped his pants. He ambled toward her, savoring the fear so evident in her face and the absolute control he had over the situation.
I was powerless. Bound, weak, terrified. If only I was stronger, smarter, better! I could have done something, said something, changed something to kill this fucking nightmare. Damn me and my weakness, damn me and my romance, damn me damn me damn me fuck me fuck me FUCK ME FUCK ME!
The sudden burst of light blinded all of us. The gunshots deafened us.
I felt the gun atop my head fall to the ground, as did my now released body and that of my captor's.
"Not another step."
The fat man stopped.
A police officer walked slowly to the man, his gun raised high, as another officer moved to intercept the sole living accomplice. When both were on the ground in handcuffs, I ran to catch my girlfriend. I tore off my jacket and covered her, cradling her in my arms.
"I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry, so sorry, so sorry, I love you, I love you, I love you..."
I kept repeating myself.
She didn't say a word.

Romance 4

We finished without so much as a gasp.
I rolled over and stared blankly at the ceiling.
"What now?"
As if I was supposed to know. We used to just lie in bed after sex, our bodies still entwined, gazing into each other's eyes or dreaming. Always dreaming. Looking back, that's what it must have been. And now I had woken up, with the bleak white ceiling to greet me.
"No suggestions? Should we read poetry? Go for a midnight walk? I know, let's curl up on the couch together and talk about all the wonderful things we'll do in our lives. I'll start. When I grow up, I want to have a boyfriend who periodically crashes into despair and promptly proceeds to fuck my best friend. It's your turn, sweety, what do you want to do? Oh, excuse me, who?"
"Oh give it a rest. How many times and ways do I have to say I'm sorry? What do you want me to do to make amends?"
There was a pause. I didn't dare look at her, but I knew she was simmering.
"Was she better than me?"
"I don't know. I can't quantify that sort of-"
"Was she?"
"No, she wasn't. I don't love her."
"But you do love me?"
I knew it was a trap before I said it.
"This isn't about her, is it?"
"You didn't answer the question. You didn't answer the fucking question."
She was trying to keep her voice firm, but I knew she was crying.
"I-... I don't know. I don't know what I feel anymore, about anything."
"It's not that hard. Yes or no."
"Alright, yes. I do."
"Well you've got a pretty fucked up way of showing it."
She spit the word at me, so full of anger and spite. The double meaning made it all the worse.
"Hey, don't make this all about me. I've seen you, flirting with all those stuck up bastards at-"
"Don't turn this around, I ne-"
"Never what? Flirted without even the decency to wait til I'm out of the room? Eyed another man and wondered whether he'd be able to make you scream like you used to? I bet you didn't stop at wondering, did you? You've probably fucked a score of anonymous cocks without even learning the names that go with them."
Her silence was enough of an answer. We were both simmering now, faces coated in tears, rage close to bursting from our heaving chests.
She started sobbing. As I listened, my anger was slowly replaced by guilt, my rage with sadness. I propped her up against the bedrest and cradled her in my arms.
"I'm sorry, darling, I shouldn't have... I... I'm sorry."
Another pause. The sobs had subsided, but the sorrow on her face remained.
"Where did we go wrong, Dylan? When I first met you, I felt so alive. Every moment of every day was exciting and new, and I felt so beautiful and ... young. And now, I just feel ugly and old and worthless. I don't like feeling worthless, Dylan, I don't."
"You're not worthless, certainly not to me."
"Then what am I? A trophy? An old habit? An easy cunt?"
"No, damn it! No."
"Then what am I? To you?"
"I ... don't know."
"When's the last time we laughed? With each other, I mean. We used to laugh so much... It just seems so hard, now. Such an effort to be cheerful, to smile. What happened to us?"
"Maybe we just got bored."
"If you'd told me I would get bored of you when we met, I would have laughed and laughed... Now it's all I can do to keep from sobbing my lungs out."
"We'll work it out. It'll be ok."
"But what if it's not? What if we can't?"
"I don't know. I really don't know..."
We stayed there, her in my arms, watching as night turned to day as the sun rose to fill the room.

Romance 3

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BE-*
I groaned.
"Uhhh, what time is it?"
"I don't know. I don't really *yawn* care either."
"Don't we have... work or something?"
"We're unemployed."
"Oh..."
"And it's *yawn* Saturday."
"Again? Didn't we just have one of these a week ago?"
"It's too early for bad jokes. Go back to sleep."
I turned over and took her into my arms. It was so comforting, to have another soul beside me, a warmth incomparable to any other. I still wasn't used to it. I hoped I never would be.
We lay quietly for a few moments. I was still tired, but I felt so wonderful I didn't want to relinquish myself to sleep. Not yet. When life is like this, the best of dreams can only be nightmares in comparison.
"Darling, I was thinking."
"Please stop. Don't you..mmm..remember what happened last time?"
"I can't say I recall."
"Neither can I. Better not risk it."
She snuggled up against me. I rested my head upon the top of hers.
"What would I do without you?"
"Probably get more sleep."
Well, that was certainly true, and not just because of these "early morning chats."
"You mean the world to me."
"Mmmhmmm."
Her hair really was lovely. Just like every other part of her...
I wondered when she'd begin to catch on that it wasn't an accident that I set the alarm to go off on Saturday mornings. This was at least the third time I'd done it. Maybe she didn't even remember. But I certainly did. Every minute of it. No worries, no obligations, just me and her, the sole inhabitants of the world.
I lay there, basking in the tranquility of the moment, watching her chest rise and fall, until it seemed she was asleep.
I leaned over to whisper into her ear.
"I love you."
As I moved to turn away, I noticed a small grin upon her face.
"Darling, I can think of a million better ways to wake me up than that silly alarm.
"Like what?"
"Like this."
She kissed me.
Then she placed her head upon my chest, and we both drifted back to sleep.

Romance 2

"I want you to scream, goddamn it! I want you to blow your motherfucking top and finally act like you've got a fucking soul!"
I return a calm stare, wondering if it'd be more appropriate to try and appease her or to attempt to ascertain the true source of the problem. I'm sure I've read the statistics that suggest the right response before, but unfortunately I seem to have forgotten them.
"Quit looking at me like that! Just get mad or angry or cry or something! I... I- I can't handle this, Dylan. I just can't."
"Dear, please, don't get upset. I'm not. Just try and look at this rationally, I'm sure-."
"Rationally? I don't want to be fucking rational!"
"Well, what do you want?"
"A genuine emotion? A harsh word? A sign that you're still alive, that you ever were alive? Goddamn it Dylan, you're not a robot or a textbook, you're a fucking human!"
"I don't want to get emotional, it only makes us do things we might regret."
"Or might genuinely enjoy!"
"I just don't want things to get out of control."
"Oh, I'm well aware. The food, the alcohol, hell, the sex, every last fucking bit is just another step in your plan. 'Stop a moment dear, let me make sure the door is locked, the dog's been let out, and the shades are down. Oh, and I also need to turn off the TV in the other room.' Turn off the TV my ass!"
"No sense in wasting electricity."
"You just don't get it! What the fuck are you afraid of?"
"There's nothing wrong with caution and being environmentally conscious."
"There is when it destroys any passion or desire you ever had!"
"You don't want my desires. They're dark, horrid things. Things that...no. I'm controlled because I need to be. I just like feeling secure."
"Yeah, well, I hate it. I fucking hate it. It feels like I know the ending of each day before it starts. What's the point? What's the fucking point?"
Her voice softens at the end, and she sobs again. I feel helpless, paralyzed by indecision. If I go to her, she may feel like I'm imposing, or that my gesture lacks authenticity. Maybe she just wants to be alone. Or maybe she wants me to go comfort her, maybe she wants me to take her into my arms, wants me to stroke her hair, wants me to kiss her tears away.

I'd better not risk it.

"I'm leaving."
"No, don't go, let's talk about it."
"We've already fucking talked about it, Dylan. I don't have anything left to say."
"Please, this will only end badly if you leave."
"You're damn well right it will."
She slams the door. I can see her standing outside my house, tears streaming down her face as she chokes back another sob.

Should I go after her? She seemed pretty adamant about leaving, I'd better not incense her further. Hopefully she'll get over it, whatever "it" is. It drives me crazy when people can't properly express themselves.

Why do people have to be so difficult?

Romance 1

"Darling, you are my impetus."
"And you are getting in the way."
I couldn't suppress a wry grin as I stepped aside to allow the other patrons by.
"A guy just can't be romantic without something screwing it up, can he?"
"You call that romance? I'll show you romance."
She pulled me toward her, dipped me, and kissed me until I had to go up for air.
"Now you're the one in the way."
"I rather don't think they mind this time."
She winked and walked away as I rushed to catch up.
"Hey, aren't I the one who's supposed to dip you?"
"You're also the one who's 'supposed' to have paid for dinner, so consider it a compromise."
"We ought to compromise more often."
"I'll keep that in mind next time we're choosing CDs."
"Hey, it's not my fault you enjoy listening to arbitrary jabs in the mental eye."
"It's called jazz, and it's certainly better than that Philip Glass crap. If music is the same four notes repeated for three entire minutes, then sex is a pat on the back."
"Speaking of which, I believe I'm almost out of 'gloves.' I told you wearing that skirt would only make our 'ration' situation worse."
"I didn't hear many complaints when I first put it on."
"That's because I was so busy trying to get it back off again."
"I don't think the dress was what you were trying to get off."
"Now you're just arguing semantics."

We laughed and continued our leisurely stroll around the park, our hands loosely clasped together, our faces pictures of contentment. I tried to prevent myself from positively beaming, thus completing the creeping sensation that I was, in fact, an utter fool, but it was a battle I was rather glad to lose.

We heard some music coming from a nearby pavillion, where a folk band was performing, so we moved closer. I "tripped" and landed in the grass, but instead of following me, she promptly let go of my hand and watched me tumble. I looked back at her with complete innocence. She rolled her eyes, let out an exasperated sigh, and allowed herself to be pulled down too. After a brief wrestling match, we ended in another kiss.

"You know, people are staring."
"They're just jealous."
"Or they're wondering which of us will notice the dog poop first."
"You're a real upper, aren't you?"
"I'm a fucking rainbow compared to you."
"Can't have a rainbow without rain."
"I'd argue, but from past experience I'm pretty sure I'd end up killing you."
"And what would be so bad about that?"
She paused.
"Well darling, for once, I'm at a loss for words."
"How about a compromise?"

We kissed again and basked in the sun. The folk band started playing a new song, and a familiar, devilish gleam came to her eye.

"Oh no. You remember what happened last time."
"Something about a cast and me being a crazy bitch?"
"Yeah, that sounds about right."
"Well, I guess you can't teach an old dog new tricks."

She jumped up and pulled me along with her. Then we danced. I never was very good at dancing, but she seemed to have a natural ability, always staying in time, always knowing exactly what step to take. And she loved it. She seemed to come truly alive, embracing the moment like she embraced life itself. She laughed at my feeble attempts to remember what she taught me, but other than a few crushed toes, we managed to escape unscathed.

"I declare, I certainly am mighty fatigued."
"That is such a horrible accent."
"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."
"Why dear, are you suggesting that I rock your world?"
"Now that was just downright unethical. Retaliatory measures must be taken."
We kissed again. Longer than before. We stopped simultaneously, left staring into each other's eyes.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"Now let's go to bed!"
"It's only eight, and you're already ready to sleep?"
"Who said anything about sleep?"
We rushed off to the car laughing.

Lies and Daydreams

(Inspiration)

It's been three days since we both broke up. Both broke down. Like machines that had passed their prime, tossed into a closet to rot til they're relics. A jumble of arms and anathemas.

I sit silently, staring at the television screen. I don't know what's on. I don't care. I stare because it's my only support. It's my anchor. If I turn away, I'll dissolve. Again. There are already too many pieces of me scattered on the floor. Shards of human glass, waiting to slice the first one of us to rise to the occasion. We both sit still.

Three days, and still we're depressed. Some people actually find breakups liberating.

Some people fall out of love.

Her hand is in mine. Her head resting against my shoulder. Collapsed against my shoulder, there because nothing else is so soft, has ever been so soft, on a thing so hard. I stroke her hair like a villain strokes his cat. Like a madman with a doll.

Is the TV even on? What am I watching? Images pass before my eyes, but dreams, daydreams and lies are all so similar. Why make a distinction?

Three days, and still no rescue. Stranded on a couch, her warmth my only source of sustenance. Her hair my raincoat. Her lips my breath.

A voice breaks the silence, like laughter at a funeral. It's hard to hear, harder to say, the words a spoken sigh.

"Do you love me?"
"Hm?"
"Do you love me?"
"Like a boy loves his dog."
"So I'm your bitch?"

We laugh. Wry, mirthless sounds, but relieving all the same. Silence regains its hold. My hand considers making a familiar descent, but I don't even have the energy for that. It's all empty anyway. I continue staring.

"I'd die for you."
"Don't say that."
"I would."
"Like you tried for her?"
"That was different. It wasn't her fault."
"You know that's not what she thinks."
"Well it doesn't matter what she thinks now."
"Did it ever?"
"Fuck you."
"That certainly didn't help."
"Ha ha. She knew about us. I never tried to hide you."
"Maybe you should have."

Maybe I should have.

"I love you."
"And you didn't love her?"
"You know it's different. You're like... a part of me."
"And what was she?"
"Everything else."

A pause.

"And you can't love yourself forever..."

We both speak the last line together. We know the conversation by heart. I continue staring into space, stroking her hair, still alone. Alone with lies, daydreams, and you.

Consider it.

What will they recall,
If they recall at all?
What will you have left behind?

I considered a red convertible.
A statue to myself, made of styrofoam
An eternal testament of mediocrity.
I considered it.

I considered a castle.
With a drawbridge at the gate
An alligator in the moat
A damsel in my arms
A smile on my face.
King me
Watch my royal blush
My dancing after dark ages
My knight on the town
Serf's up

I considered a rocketship.
With a research lab
A docking bay
Windows in every room
Gleams in every eye.
Star lite,
Star brighter than air
I don't think you grasp the gravity of the situation
I need some space

I considered a sad smile.
A thin grin.
Morose merriment.
Reticent revelry.
The last laugh.

But then I remembered.
I left it to you.
My constant courier
My perpetual page
My standard bearer.
I left it to you
To carry on.

The world's not on your shoulders,
It's in our hands.

That is my proposal.
Don't say yes now
Just...

Consider it.