The Land of NeverWas

Where all the "Might Have Beens" live

Archive for the category “romance”

the insanity of cupid’s arrows

Is it cowardice to armor one’s heart against the barbed arrows of a Cupid gone mad? One who shoots his arrows without regard to consequence? Is it cowardice to wish to avoid the pain of his pernicious arrow sinking in to my heart alone? The arrow that he so maliciously forgot to also shoot into the one I fell in love with?

“Perhaps, it is. But I don’t care.” I think as I buckle the armor on and shut my beating heart away into the darkness once again.


I am lightly dreamt and poorly written.

A ghost of memory spied upon the mirror.

The falling echo of a word unspoken.

All that I am is see-through and you walk within me unknowing.


My words,
like a flock of startled birds,
flit and fly,
and when they settle where do they roost?
Within your heart
or merely upon your eye?

a word too far

There is that excruciating moment of fear when your heart is pounding her name but you don’t know how much you should tell her. Your heart is at a gallop but you are afraid to give it free rein because you are nervous it might ride you both right off the cliff, because every time she crosses your mind (which is literally all the time) you just feel like you have to talk to her right then or you won’t be able to sleep that night. And it feels so amazing but you don’t want to blow it by making it too much. But nobody ever explained what the hell the limit is or why the hell there is even a limit in the first place. I mean, something that feels this fucking amazing just can’t –  shouldn’t – be limited. Right? Apparently it is. And so you find yourself in that paradox where everything you think you know about romance is telling you to climb the highest mountain and shout out your feelings to the whole goddamn world, while reality is saying that you need to reel it in, parcel it out, don’t let yourself get carried away. Which is maddening. Especially since you can’t remember the last time your mouth longed to kiss someone so much. How long it has been since your trembling hands longed to trace every lovely inch of a woman’s skin. It is ancient history, barely remembered, since the last time your knees got shaky and your heart skipped a beat. And there she is, talking to you at last. Right there. Her eyes looking into yours. So close but yet so painfully far. The journey has started but still so many miles to go yet. You’re quivering for a kiss, a touch. You want to tell her all of the crazy ways she is making your insides jump around, like you swallowed a whole bag of jumping beans. You argue with yourself, a whole schizophrenic conversation playing out in your head, while you smile and do your best to win her heart. You’re going to say it. Fuck the rules. She has to know. You draw in your breath. But what comes out is something inane and safe. You do more listening than talking so you don’t kill the fragile new flower that you hope will blossom into the full beauty of love.

If only she knew of the inferno within. If only.

But better to play it safe than to lose it all simply because you went a word too far.


how can i burn for another
when i never stopped burning for you?

A dream full of passion

I am an animal made of fire. Deep inside I burn. Deep inside I yearn. The coals of my heart are cold, but I want them to be stoked up to that roaring flame we all desire. I need it, I crave it. I want my lips to meet hers and I want to nibble on them and pull them with my teeth. I want to get to that place where my mind is no longer in control and my hands and lips become creatures with minds of their own and all they want is to devour their quarry. Her body. But I also want to be devoured. Devoured by the scent of her, her touch, her eyes. Become entrapped hopelessly in her hair and feel her breath hot upon my skin. I want to pull her head back by her hair, put my lips close to her ear and whisper “I fucking love you.” And I want her to smile an evil little smile and say “I know.” And in that moment, I want to know that without saying a word she loves me too. Without doubt, without worry and that nothing will ever separate us.

I wake up and the dream fades, but that animal made of fire is still there, waiting.

Beautiful Stranger

Hello there Beautiful Stranger,
someone I once knew,
someone I could talk to
and not pretend.

Hello there Beautiful Stranger,
what have you been doing
where is your life going
since then?

Hello there Beautiful Stranger
it’s hard to imagine
all that has happened
that I know nothing about.

Hello there Beautiful Stranger
I once called you lover
but that now is over
and I have my doubt

That you will ever be
more than a Beautiful Stranger


All it would have taken was a kiss.
I know this.
A long, deep look into my eyes.
Yours full of nervous anticipation.
Mine full of desire and disbelief
that I finally had you in my arms.
My hands in your hair.
Your head tilted back and your eyes closed.
Just a gentle touch of the lips,
softly, tasting, caressing.
At first.
Tiny nibbles on your lips.
My hand caresses the side of your face
traces down your neck.
Then the storm of passion ignites
and we are lost on the tossing
waves of the sea of passion
as our lips
press together
more intensely
and our tongues
dance together
then separate
and we become more
than human we become two souls
interlocking, interweaving,
spinning into love
sweet sweet emotion
that opens our hearts
for they have been closed
so long
but now the doors fly open
and the sun shines in
and I feel a tear
well up in my eye
and that tear leads me back
to reality.

For this never happened
we never fell
we never loved
and all it would have taken was a


Quitting still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I still can’t give up the thought that I just needed to hold on a little longer. One day more, a month, what did it matter? In the long run I had already put so much into it, a bit more time was nothing. But it seemed that the rope I had held on to so desperately had whittled itself down to a thread and I was in danger of falling into a chasm of waiting forever. Nothing was given to me at that point to believe holding on was going to make any difference.

So I quit.

I gave up.

That’s okay sometimes, isn’t it? Once you get to a certain point and realize you are more fool than patient, it’s okay to walk away, right? Was I a quitter or did I walk away because I had to? It feels almost like the answer to that would be: both. I had to quit. I would have never stopped if there seemed to be any point in going on, but the only person in the world I needed to tell me to keep going wasn’t saying anything. I’m stubborn. I beat my head against walls every day in pursuit of what is important and meaningful to me, but even I know that after a certain point you are just going to knock yourself out and wake up with a big headache. That brick wall isn’t going to budge no matter how hard you ram your head against it.

But I still can’t help but wonder; what if I had refused to quit? Damn the Hollywood movies that show a guy doing something desperately romantic for his lady love and winning her. I had all of these crazy ideas in my head. I was going to drive to her and make her talk to me, give her an impassioned last minute plea that would make her understand that no one would love her like I did, write her the love letter of all love letters and wrap it around a rock and throw it at her window. Whatever it took.

Then I realized, while all of that worked like a charm in Hollywood, all it would do for me was get me arrested, beat up (by her probably) or gain me a brand new restraining order. Crap. Romantic gestures like that just don’t work in reality. I would have loved to have tried, but the last thing I wanted was to have seemed crazy or scary in some way.

So after I had read what she had said, those words that cut me so invisibly yet so deeply, I sat back – stunned, dejected, hurt, seething, lost, confused, frustrated – and pondered my next move. There was a pressure inside of me as all of these emotions battered me heart and soul and grew like a snowball. The pressure began to leak out and I really had no idea what to do with it. I couldn’t direct it in the direction I wanted. It had become too massive and unwieldy for me to tame.

And so I typed an email. Hit send.

And became a quitter.


I didn’t find love where I thought it lay but I can assure you that I will find it some day, some year. And then, finally, I will wrap myself around someone, strong, brave, and beautiful and the tears that fall from my face will be those of happiness instead of sadness. And every night spent alone and wondering will be long lost in the mists of time, and I will only regret that it took me so long to find her and that our time together won’t be as long as it could have been. But any minute, any second, with her will be precious and nothing will tear her from me until the moment I breathe my last with her name on my lips.

I will let the water of her love wash over me and I will feel renewal.


there will be nothing left for you to see.
no inkling of anything to do with me.
nothing here, nothing there,
there will be nothing for you anywhere.
you have made your choice,
so no more will my voice,
share a thing or a feeling,
or pour out of my being,
in heartfelt love or pain.
it will wash away with the rain.

in the dark when your heart gently weeps
at the things you denied but which it still keeps
close to itself, all alone does it cry,
asking, with mine, why why why?
something that shall never be answered,
by thought, by deed or even by word.
i can’t fight the enemy of the past
and finally at long last
i just have to let the thing
go and, hurt as it may, become nothing.


n: The condition of being confused or disoriented.

Even after I said clearly what was happening, you just stood there, saying nothing.
I’m not sure what hurt the worst: having to admit it was over or believing that I meant so little.


I see plans for the future
that suck the hope right out of me.

I see words exchanged
that cut right through the soul of me.

I see touches shared
that make my heart scream to the sky.

I see too much
and it makes me wish that I was blind.


i’m tired of longing
i want the belonging
i don’t want to long for her
i want to belong to her
i’m tired of longing for a family
i want to belong to a family
i’m tired of longing for love
i want to belong to love
i’m tired of longing for what i feel to be returned
i want to return to where i feel i belong
and it is so easy for the longing
to become a belonging
all that is needed
is for it to be
and the longing will
become belonging.

the dream

My subconscious betrayed me. I had a dream. And I remembered it.

I dreamed of you.

We were at an amusement park. It wasn’t the usual sort of amusement park though. It was small and had rolling grassy hills and a little creek running through it as opposed to concrete, asphalt and steel. It was peaceful and empty. Almost as if we were the only ones there. But we weren’t. J and the guys from the band were there. I remember giving J a hard time because he was flabbergasted someone didn’t know who he or his band was. The other guys were off signing autographs while he was hanging out with us.

And then we were at a souvenir stand. You liked this cool magnet thing and then I started bitching about all the overly cutesy ones that made me want to barf. You asked me why I had such a problem with them and all I could say was that they were just so damn…. CUTE…and you made fun of me.

And then we were lying in the grass. And this is my favorite part. I was laying on my side, head propped up on my hand. You had your head nestled up against my chest with your arm thrown over me. We were as close to each other as humanly possibly. It was quiet, but as usual I was thinking. And I got to thinking that, maybe, being around the old gang was causing you some unspoken pain you weren’t letting show so I asked you if you were ok. Your voice was muffled in my chest but I heard you say “yeah”. And then you raised your head and looked at me and your voice was filled with awe as if the realization had suddenly dawned on you. You said “Yeah. I really am, actually.”

And then you kissed me.

days like months, months like years

I keep picturing you with sad eyes. Sad eyes and a far away look. I have no idea if this is accurate as I am totally and completely cut off from you. I said I wouldn’t write this kind of thing anymore, but I was struck by the need to make a record of this moment. I have hope it will be a history of us, but if nothing else it will be a history of me. And I think looking back and remembering my feelings at this moment will be important to my future self. I just wonder if there will grow a disconnect between me now and me then. Like when I look at pictures of myself from my childhood and it feels almost as if I am looking at the life of someone else. Some other unhappily happy child who is trying to find balance between the magic he feels inside and the turmoil his reality has become. I hope not. I hope that the feelings remain. I hope that I can grasp your hand and smile at how foolish we were in this present. How we kept ourselves apart while everything else was waiting not so patiently for us to give in and accept the inevitable.

But for now, this now I am slogging through, there is nothing but an abundance of time that seems to be never ending. And this is the feeling I wanted to jot down. How the tick of the clock is both my enemy and my friend. How the rise and set of the sun is both my enemy and my friend. How I am marking days off the calendar like a prisoner awaiting the day he can walk free from his cell.

Yes. I needed to make a record of this.

So here is the record of the time that days felt like months, and months felt like years.


n: : temporary inaction especially as caused by uncertainty : hesitation

this is going to sting.


when you lay eyes on the one that catches first your eye and then your heart, it isn’t simply a matter of fate putting the two of you in that particular spot at that particular time. no, fate had much more work to do before it put you two lonely spirits in the same space. there was a brilliance to its plan. a patience. fate had to lay out a domino of events that is best never contemplated, for not only did it have to place you two together at the right moment, but it had to place your parents together and their parents and so on and so forth all the way back to the time your ancestors decided to take ship to new lands and even beyond that to a time when Targ fell in love with Unda. you two potential lovers have come from a long line of lovers that fate pushed together like two dolls and said “kiss her!”…and stuff. and to compound fate’s job even more, it had to put the two of you through other relationships just so you could learn lessons that needed to be learned so that you would be ready to recognize what fate was putting in front of you. you had to cry, you had to hurt, you had to destroy others so that they could learn lessons of their own. you had to be the bitch, you had to be the asshole, you had to be the victim, you had to have your heart ripped out of you. fate puts a lot of work into you and it isn’t happy when you ignore that fact. if you keep your mouth closed and let her slip by, if you let fear keep your heart closed and let him slip away, fate will fuck you up. when you are sitting there pondering why you were never able to find love, fate will smack you upside the head and say “you did you dumbfuck. you just passed it over out of fear. remember so-and-so? yeah. THAT ONE.” fear is fate’s worst enemy. fear laughs at fate’s work because fear has an easy job. it just gives us a twinge and we run. you can always tell the brave souls. they are the ones still holding wrinkly hands, the ones that still have the light in their eyes even as the rest of them is going to hell. it’s in the tender attention of the old man that is taking care of the wife that can’t remember him anymore, it’s in the patient, steady force of the old lady that has to take care of her husband as if he were a baby. because in the end, fate is happy with the ones that did get it. fate smiles at love and love smiles back because that is the one little slice of heaven on this planet that we are given. love. the love of others and the love from others. so remember that the next time you fall and fear starts tapping you on the shoulder. remember all the work fate has put into it. remember it is all just a beautiful convergence.

love and physics

now i want a compression of time.
the months until i see you feel far too long.
then the days between will feel far too long.
then the hours between will feel far too long.
then the minutes, then the seconds.
in the weird physics of love
the seconds and the minutes
and the hours with you will feel far too short
and the days with you will feel far too short
and the months with you will feel far too short
and then i will want a decompression of time

or better yet for time to stand still

damn the beautiful nights

Damn the beautiful nights.

Not that I hate beautiful nights. Sitting there in the dark while the cool breeze ruffles my hair and caresses my skin like a playful lover makes me really glad to be alive.

No, it’s not the beautiful nights I hate. It’s the fact that you aren’t there sharing them with me that makes them far less enjoyable. I’ve counted so many. So many lost opportunities to hold your hand and walk with you by my side. So many lost opportunities to lay on the grass and look at the stars. So many lost opportunities to sneak away with a blanket to the dark beneath a tree and make love and dare anyone to stop us. (And so what if we get caught? I’d go before the judge and say “You’re damn straight I was making love to her under the moonlight. And you better keep on the lookout, because I aim to do it again, Your Honor.”)

But, even so, I send my love off with the breeze and hope it finds its way to you. It’s not quite the same, but for now it will have to do.

Damn the beautiful nights.

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