A Purple Dream

Streaks of gold bid an intimate farewell to the cotton-candy clouds. The fiery sun gracefully sank behind the green hills and stained the sky above with a soft, copper glow. The remaining traces of light flickered through the dense trees and evaporated like spilled champagne.

A young woman kicked off her strappy heels, grabbed a fistful of her long, tulle skirt and made her way barefoot across the sea of emerald-green grass.

With a pensive expression on her face, she hummed a familiar tune; a tune she fell in love with as a child, and slowly walked towards a lonely pergola.

It stood amidst the evergreen field.

Lush strands of Wisteria cascaded down from its wooden ceiling while its roots snaked down the pillars and dove deep into the ground below.

Underneath the sea of fuchsia, lavender and white flowers hung an old, wooden swing.

The young woman carefully sat on it.

Her long fingers wrapped around the ropes and with a light kick of her foot, she pushed off the ground and swung back. Then forward, and then back again.

Memories of childhood waltzed through her mind, and with every high swing she had forgotten her worries.

Suddenly, a young man appeared on the horizon.

The sight of his face sparked a sweet, cashmere-soft feeling in her heart. Even though the evening was warm and inviting, a ripple of shivers ran down her spine. Her insides twisted into a cherry-knot at the thought of them being alone, at last.

He walked inside the pergola and with him brought a dark, starry night.

The darkness, however, was speared with hundreds of fireflies. They fluttered above the blanket of green grass and illuminated the pergola, and those inside of it.

He quietly stood by one of the pillars, with a slow, mischievous smile on his lips, and his hands thrust into the pockets of his meticulously pressed slacks, and watched her swing back and forth.

Their stares were aligned and their eyes burned with desire, but neither one spoke nor found the strength to close the intimate distance between their bodies.

The two lovers remained apart, yet their hearts were as one.

A Purple Dream

The Beginning of a Sinister Love Affair

You are not Prince Charming.

Your heart is the shade of charcoal, and it is filled with hatred against the world that has never taken the time to recognize the ingenious thoughts inside of your sinister mind.

No, not sinister – your brilliant mind.

Once upon a time, under a starry night, our lips touched for the first time and the poison you harbored in your black, little heart infested mine.

Slowly and quietly, I have fallen in love with the Dark Knight.

He has good intentions, even though he is riddled with insecurities, pain and sorrow. He is not perfect – in fact, he is ugly and far from the picture perfect guys that the modern society fantasizes about.

He fears intimacy.

Past love affairs have left him vulnerable, cold and guarded. He fears unknown – especially if it’s in a form of a fiercely independent woman.

But, whenever our gazes align, I can smell the lustful thoughts that brew in his head.

He is intrigued by the cloak of mystery I wear and although he cannot decipher the nonchalance in the tone of my voice, he tries. To him, a puzzle needs to be solved and a riddle needs be answered; uncertainty is not an option.

And, although he fears love, he will have to learn to accept it.

For the Dark Knight needs the Queen of Hearts.

It is simply inevitable.

The Beginning of a Sinister Love Affair



Burning up from the fever that your stare supplies,
I look away, averting the gleam in your dark eyes.
Your stare gently grazes the soft curves of my face,
As you stand across from me and smile.

I flush.

Your stare is intrusive and your smile is wily.
I sneak a peek at your body – broad shoulders, strong arms and toned tummy.
The way the fabric of your shirt stretches across your chest turns me on.
I wonder what it’d feel like to be in your arms.
Your hand is scarred, yet it’s attractive.

Your lips are sweet, yet dangerously captive.
Your voice is deep – a soothing lullaby to my romantic ears.
My mind is racing like a Grand Prix!
I wish you’d kiss me, ignite my fantasies.
I wish you’d hold me, envelop my body with your sexuality.
I wish you’d stop teasing,
Because I’m losing self-control and I wish you’d just ask me.

I’d cave in with a passionate yes!


Pretty, Little Thoughts


Even though I trembled from head-to-toe, I braved the cold, mid-December wind and followed you close behind. A plume of white air escaped my cherry-red lips as we quietly walked up the dark, damp road towards the old, rustic cottage atop of the hill.

The needle-thin heels of my boots echoed across the eerie silence as I plowed through the sea of orange and yellow leaves on the ground and hoped that you’d speak.

The sky was an ominous shade of grey, and with a promise of a merciless rain.

A blanket of green enveloped the craggy mountains behind the cottage, and fleecy clouds wrapped around the tips like serpents. The arctic air was perfumed with a potpourri of burning fire logs, pine needles and wildflowers.

You finally spoke, your voice deep and masculine.

And, while your dark eyes lingered on the green, weathered roof of the cottage that peeked through the dense trees, I stole a quick glimpse of your face. It was sharp, angular and defined, with high cheekbones, a strong, Roman nose and full lips.

The kind of lips I wanted to taste with mine.

Flushing with embarrassment, I peeled my eyes away from your broad shoulders, strong, muscular body and suppressed the urge to reach out a cold, trembling hand and gently touch your smooth, pale cheeks. Instead, I wrapped my arms around my body to keep warm and continued to listen to your soothing words.

I wondered, with a deep sense of agony, when and if you would ever be mine.

Pretty, Little Thoughts