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Thursday, August 25, 2016

Spiritually Clandestine

All I can ever be to you
Is the darkness that we knew,
And this regret I've got accustomed to. - Amy Winehouse, Tears Dry on Their Own 

Amy had an aura about her that transcended the pain.  Tragedy & despair mixed with genius. She was unfinished yet complete in her relaxed dress.

My life, Chapter 55---Steve

The small brick enclave, four steps down, essentially the basement.  I would visit him there.  It was his low priced haven, a steal and maybe a temporary escape.  Conquering more than money, laying off the booze--it was a life unintended but manageable.  By now, he could have been a marine biologist for the state but with 4 DUI's, a confiscated fully paid car and unspeakable regrets, he kept all things on the surface.  Making warm meals was his forte.  The memories of us together were more distant.  The lovemaking was a bit constructed like a few pages missing from an unread manual.  The chemistry inside that damp, cold basement was forced--his single bed- an acrobat's nightmare, a middle age woman's reminder of no security. Above his bed, was a painting he painted with his own hands and limbs, of his high school girlfriend.  He told me how they did everything but the final task.  He told me they respected the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy.

I didn't know what I wanted from him.   

to be continued. 

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