Black Mirror

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She waits for the bus, and I’m looking but pretending I’m not because I don’t want her to know she interests me. I’m made of stone, you see, and I don’t want no woman knowing she’s getting under my skin making me feel like anything other than the distant writer I claim to be. So while I’m walking past rolling my cigarette, she’s searching her bag for her purse and then her money or bus ticket. She looks sad all the time, which is probably why I’m drawn to her so much. Once she’s found what she’s looking for, she sits herself down on a bench and folds her hands in her lap. Stood several feet away, I light my cigarette and stare at the side of her face. Secretly, I’m willing her to turn and look at me, but she just sits there gazing straight ahead at the park across the road. Is she aware of how I watch her? Does she notice my eyes picking her apart every time she’s close by? Shifting from one foot to the other, I suck down the smoke and imagine touching her face. So soft. So heavenly. So different from the bag of bones I am. There’s an air of neurosis about her for sure, but the sense of mystery she carries is enough to captivate me whatever. Looking down at her feet, she sinks in on herself and slumps on the bench as I blow out a lungful of smoke while imagining some giant black wave raging inland, destroying everything in its path. If it were to appear on the horizon, would I grab her hand and attempt to lead her to safety, or would I kneel before her and place my head in her lap wishing for her to stroke my hair? I’m not quite sure. After a while, her bus comes and she gets up and turns around looking in my direction. Like the coward I am, I turn my back and walk off through the parking lot visualising that black wave washing everything away, and then I visualise those eyes of hers as black mirrors. Black mirrors that pull me in and show me for what I really am. Stuffing my hands into my pockets, a squirrel sits on the hood of a car eyeing me up while wagging its bushy tail. No doubt it’s a messenger. One of her many servants sent to keep watch over me.

A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on Amazon.co.uk

A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on Amazon.com 

26 replies »

      • What I find so appealing about your work is the way you show intuitiveness through a man’s mind. A lot of your work has helped me see men on a more intimate level, so thanks for that. 🙂

        You draw me in, and as I’m reading, I keep waiting for something dark…(or darker, maybe?) to happen…something that will scare me, or even disgust me. And you manage to keep that tension going for me, never letting me down by the end. It’s kinda brilliant.

        I’ve read a lot of writing where there seems to be a kind of a drop off into salaciousness or even depravity towards the end (at times) and honestly, those endings can be banal and predictable if not handled correctly. Your writes never do that.

        I hope ANY of that made at least a little sense.

        And, it’s a huge compliment, in case I was confusing. If I’m waiting for a negative emotion like disgust, that’s a compliment, not an insult to your writing because it really just shows the emotion I find myself investing in your stories. Hope I explained that effectively.

        Still a huge fan after all these months. ♥

      • What a wonderful, wonderful comment!

        I’m ever so grateful for these words, I really am.

        It’s encouraging that you find my take on the world helpful in understanding the male perspective. I think that men hold so much back, and I for one never used to be open with my hopes and fears. This is what subsequently drives me to try and do my best in giving an insight into what goes on in my heart and mind.

        From that, there is a constant need to get what’s inside of me down onto the page. Hopefully, that’s where the tension you speak of comes into play. I never feel satisfied. Even after a ‘good’ piece of writing, the effect soon wears off and I’m searching for something more. To sit back and relax, or to become satisfied just won’t do. There’s just this obsession with wanting to show everything, both tender and repulsive.

        There was a time when I wouldn’t have dared to show my flaws through fear of not being accepted, but if people won’t accept me for who I am, then I don’t need those kinds of people in my life. I think that’s something we all relate to.

        Your kind words are so special to me. I’m smiling because to have touched you with my art is central to everything I am. It’s what drives me each and every day, and if I only succeed now and again, or even just once, I will have done something that goes beyond any expectations I once had.

        Thank you ❤

  1. It was all deep and serious and a little enchanting…and then there was a squirrel. Now that we’ve seen you on video, I imagine you smiling as you wrote the ending. 😊

  2. It just amazes me how when people find themselves deeply attracted to someone they just keep on throwing the hints left and right, and just don’t come out and say it aloud, maybe, it’s how we feared rejection that’s caused us to behave in such a way???

  3. This is incredible. Writing is your thing and our thing is to be in awe and look forward for more. I particularly like the ending. You should expect more messengers and more servants of her to keep watch over you 🙂

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