The Story of Us All

Written - 2-12-10

I turn the key and walk in, I can smell the sweet aroma of dinner.

You look over your shoulder from the stove and smile - a warm welcome.

I hurry to you and give you a quick kiss, hoping you can't tell.

But, even the smell of dinner cannot mask the smell of a man that is not you.

I hurry off to change, hoping to keep the evening moving along.

You call down the hall - dinner is done. Your voice's tone marked with a tinge of pain.

Dinner, a kiss, a long embrace, how can you not know by now?

But this is not the first time, nor the same lover - its become something of a sickly familiar routine.

But, it has been, what seems like forever since the last time. It is an improvement.

You never asked why and I'm not sure I could have an answer myself.

He wasn't a good lover - you know my body unlike any other.

His eyes didn't light up with anything but lust - no match for your tender passion.

He didn't even smell good - an old shirt of yours lays next to me when you're gone so I can sleep.

So why? I don't know. I never do.

Your friends warned you long ago - If she did it once, she will do it again - you simply said you loved me. They called you a fool.

And now, sitting across the table from you, I dare not see if that love still lingers in your eyes.

I hurriedly finish the meal - my favorite - and rush to leave, unable to bear my guilt and pain any longer.

But as I get up you reach for my hand, squeeze it gently, and let me go.

I retreat to the shower, hoping to at least get the smell of my lover out of my hair, my skin, my soul.

I look up from brushing my hair to see you in the doorway, watching me.

For the first time since I arrived our eyes meet; and yes - the love I have always known is still there.

You walk over and wrap your arms around me. You simply whisper 'I love you, my wife, my beautiful bride.'

My tears, my broken spirit, my weakened body say more in that moment than a simple 'I'm sorry,', no matter how sincere and genuine they would be.

There will be time enough for that later, but for now, I collapse into the arms of a fool, who, with all I have done to him, still loves me like the day we were married.

©Kristen Garcia 7/2010

Token of My Love

A lover far away with only a promise of 'soon' to when you'll actually be in their arms again.

Words from them you replay over and over again in your mind that bring a smile to your face.

A voice who's melody reaches into the crevices of your soul when time is found to enter into such conversations.

Their spirit you can feel from far away, through their words and their mere voice and it eases the pain of not being close enough to feel their true touch.

And then, one day a letter appears - a token of the lover's affection. Something you can hold that they held. Something that bears a mark that only they can place on an object. A piece of them you can put near your heart and in a moment, feel their embrace once more.

The preciousness of that object to the one who receives it is immeasurable. It is something they will never let go of. They will cling to it with all they have as it is the one thing from their lover that imparts a piece of their heart to their beloved - never to be released from their grip.

Whether a letter, a picture, a small token of any kind - the presence of the lover is still imparted. And for a moment, all the distance that physically separates two spirits is erased and an embrace across time and space is created.

Take and eat - this is my Body.

Take and drink - this is my Blood.

An embrace across time and space to my Beloved where all of Heaven and Hell and Earth can be erased for a moment and you can feel My embrace once more.

Soon. I Am coming to you soon, my love.


©Kristen Garcia 12/29/2011