Fate doesn’t come to you at just anytime. At the very least if you want to use the term fate, it should happen, often at the most dramatic moments brought by coincident. That’s what makes it fate. That’s why, another term for fate is timing.
If I had not been caught at any of those dame traffic lights…if any of those red lights had helped me, even once….I could be standing in front of her as if it were fate. My love was always held back by that thing they call timing. That dame timing.
[But I was wrong.]
In the end, fate and timing do not just happen out of coincidence. They’re products of earnest simple choices that make up miraculous moments. Being resolute, making decisions without hesitation, that’s what makes timing.
He wanted her more than I did. And I should have been more courageous. It was not the traffic lights fault. It was not timing. It was my many hesitations.
Maybe it’s blue but it could be green too
Seventy shades of sin I’ve come to call him
No not Christian Grey but he is a Christian Guy
He could be David…through Bathsheba lens
Behold, his ravishing smile piercing holes through his armor of gold Continue reading An Invitation to Sin→
Pretending that everything is okay when it feels like your world is crumbling down around you. I wish you could stop acting like a superwoman and just fall down and cry. I wish you could just let it all out and tell the world how tired you are. I wish that for once you would stop putting everyone ahead of yourself…just once…that you could put yourself first and just love yourself before you attempt to love anyone else. I wish you could stop for a minute, look into the mirror and realize just how different the woman looking back at you is from the woman you ought to be. For once, just this once, I wish you would not give a dame and just run wild, run to that place in your heart that you buried the day you decided it was okay to not be happy. I wish that for once, you would stop pretending to be happy and actually be happy. Continue reading The Woman I Wish You Were→
Fleeting memories from a past forgotten
Resurrected by whispered confessions
Like the second glance you give a stranger
A gaze frozen in time
On sensuous lips inviting
They speak to me
About wine flavoured secrets
And rosemary scented sheets
A fallen angel
Yearning and pleading