Pretty flowers.
A silver ring.
Lovely words sang for all to hear.

They do not matter without you.
All I ever wanted was morning.
All it took was a thumbs caress.

I can reach out and touch the pretty flowers you sent
but they do not touch me back.

People warn that being friends with benefits never ends well.
They say someone always develops feelings.
Someone always gets hurt.

I want feelings.
I want to care.
Because I mean the friends part.

Trust me with your secrets.
Tell me about your bad day.
Let me know about the people and things that have hurt you.

***** about work.

I'm going to make fun of you.
I promise.
I will likely get mad at you and wish I never cared. But, I wont stop.

I'm going to give you advice unsolicited or asked.
I'll pick you up from the airport.
I will  help you move your couch as long as you pivot.

I am going to laugh with you at every joke either of us cracks.
I might laugh AT you a time or two.
I will take your side in an argument as long as your position isn't that rock is dead.

And, I will also spread for you.
I'll open my legs and take you in and we will sing together.
Then when we are sweaty and breathless I will lay in bed and talk about nothing and everything with you.

We ARE friends
and that is the real benefit.

This girl doesn't care that it's August. She will wear her snow boots because she likes that they light up.

This girl doesn't care there is no music. She will dance where she wants to the music in her mind.

She doesn't care who is watching. Or who disapproves.

I wish to be more like her.
I wish more were like her.

I hope no one stifles it out of her.

No, "Sit still"
No, "Calm down"
No, "Be embarrassed"

Be you.
Be like her if you're inclined to.
Be a dancer in the street.

5 friends from California. The front man being Alec ******* Mann. Chiseled from the gods. Pretty. Oh so ******* pretty.  He had olive skin stretched over long and lean muscle and then covered in tattoos. His " I don't care hair" was  wavy with hints of sand mixed with hues of medium brown.  His eyes slanted slightly downward and were of an almond shape. The irises a deep honey brown; though later I realize can change.  His cheek bones were a  gift to him  from a  close native American bloodline. I cant say enough to do his mouth justice. Wide. I still cant look at it too long without getting soak and wet.  He wasn't the type of man that should be real. But,  he was real enough. Real on screen, real in articles and interviews , real in the fantasies of many, and eventually very real to me.

How can you trust me?

After all the proof is in red.

I won't  rationalize.

I lied.

It came so naturally.

But, I will ask you this;

Can you be trusted with the truth?

Oh, righteous one, you're so **** fragile sitting up high with your gable ready-

Ready to come crashing down.

My sentence?

A life of resentment.

It is true that I don't always like me, but at least I know me.  

Who are you?!

You have no dreams  

At least none that you've shared with me.

So, yes  I lied and I'm almost sorry but I'm not lying to myself any longer.

This is not working.

You can pray to your god for forgiveness.
You can forgive yourself.
This doesn't make you forgiven.

Oh, so you feel better now?
You can move on with your life without the burden you have given to me.
Good for you.

You are not forgiven.
Somethings can't be.

Behind your facade you know this to be true.
You can bury your guilt behind walls of self help and tales of dead carpenters, but it doesn't change how guilty you are.

You're a thief.
The thief of my childhood.

You know it's true.

Pain.

So much all at once.

Awakening to to a broken body she gasped and nearly allowed the darkness to take her again.

Cold.

So very cold.

She tried to open her eyes and discovered they were swollen shut. Again she coaxed them to respond and managed to open one to the sliver of red light.

A fire?

Yes, the smell of wood.

Panic.

Chained.

She pulled against them but alas her battered body betrayed her efforts to escape.

The pain was sharp and hot.

Ribs, face, lips...cracked......water she wished for water, wrists, shoulders, between her thighs....

No.

No, no, no.

She wept now until the thought came.

A nightmare?

Would she wake safe in her bed?

In her small town, where nothing happened and you know your neighbors because no one ever left.

She willed herself to wake and force the memories out....

but they came.