3:30 AM

3:30 AM
and I am awaiting the hallucinogenic memories
that slip into my dreams
like we slid,
slick, hot bodies,
across the yellow vinyl of that ugly couch.

3:32 AM
and you are my gateway drug,
the little pill I pop under my tongue
while the shadow growth on your face
rubs a passionless rash
across my cheek.

3:35 AM
and I am as flat and stiff beneath you
as a carcass under the steady,
sharp beak of a vulture,
I pull away from you,
scalded by your touch.

3:48 AM
and your breathing has deepened
to the steady rhythm of slumber
and I dream of yellow vinyl couches
and the first time you slid,
slick, hot body, and shattered me like an ancient mosaic.

© Laura  A. Lord, 2016


I just finished a book, The Pilot’s Wife by Anita Shreve, and without spoiling the story for you, because it is amazing and you should read it, the main character spoke numerous times about passion leaving a relationship as the time past. It inspired this piece, along with the wordle from MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie.

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The Telling

Last, but not least…Here is the reader’s choice from my latest book, The Telling.

Submissive

I like a dominant man in my life. I like someone who is in control. I like to think I’m in control, pretend it, brag about it, lie for it. I like that I know, that he knows, that I know I’m not really in control.

We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to.

The perfect line. The perfect pitch. He’s already made the decision, but poses it in such a way that I can make-believe it is mine. I like to take what doesn’t belong to me.

He’s a steamroller in my life and I like to be laid out flat. I like his hands on my chest, pushing me down whenever my back turns to the span of a bridge. His hands on my thighs, forcing me flat, flat, flat. Yes. Yes, I like that.

He makes me crow like a rooster and I want the world to know I’ve seen the sunlight. It’s like daybreak bursting to life inside me and for a split second I’m lit up brighter than a Christmas tree in Times Square. My body becomes a beacon, a calling card, a flash bang grenade and it draws more, more, more. I want a sunrise that keeps coming, up and down like a yo-yo on fire.

I like when everyone can hear my sunrise, my daybreak, my rooster call.

I’m vocal about it.

I’m in charge of it, or so I pretend.

Want it now? Click the picture to go to Amazon! AVAILABLE ON KINDLE!
Want it now? Click the picture to go to Amazon! AVAILABLE ON KINDLE!

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