The Imperfect Practice

She felt the warmth of his lips against hers as his hands crossed over her back and down her hips. Her hands pressed against his chest as she melted, not wanting anything more than just this one moment.  All too soon, they stopped pressing into each other and began their separation. Before a breathe of air came between their lips, she was filled with regret.  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Her mind was racing. All her thoughts were curse words, but they were all racing. Shit. SHIT. FUCK. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. She pressed her hands against his chest, backing away much more quickly than she initially intended. "Are you ok?" he asked her, obviously surprised by the turn of events. "I really shouldn't have done that," She blurted out quickly as she scanned the area for her purse. She couldn't remember if she even brought a purse. Shit. "It's ok - I understand what you....." Sympathy poured from his eyes as he tried to hold onto he...

She  pivoted swiftly , resting her left fingertips on the center of the door. As she gently shifted her weight backwards, she pulled the door close to her chest, closing it as silently as humanly possible.  She relaxed her wrist slightly, letting the spring of the door handle unwind. Aiming for complete silence, she absorbed the twist of the door handle, letting it slowly relax itself against her hand. After nearly an eternity, the tension exhausted. She delicately released the handle and  pirouetted spryly  to continue down the hallway.  "What the fuck?" she thought, as her eyes rested on his suitcase in the middle of the hallway. Did he pack his bags while I put her down for a nap? What the fuck?  She continued silently down the hallway. He walked in the front door at the same time she entered the living room. Obviously , he is loading his car. He quickly shuffles to the hallway, saying nothing.  The pain in her chest spiked as the vice arou...

She had been living life cracked, unable to hold joy as it leaked out through the slivers in her heart.  It hadn't struck her before this moment - that she was unable to hold all of the joy in her life. She hadn't realized her heart was a sieve, letting much of the happiness of her days slip through.  Her heart was broken, perhaps more deeply and completely than she had imagined. Yes, it hurt nearly incessantly these days, but she had managed to keep going with a heart that was more breaks than body. Somehow, she was still alive and breathing. But she was in desperate need of repair - intentional, thoughtful, meaningful repair. For once, she needed to feel treasured not in spite of her breaks and flaws - but because of them.  While she longed to be loved as she was and where she was, it was not the time for that. It was the time for repair, recovery, and resolution.  It was time to illuminate her cracks, embrace her imperfections, and tell anyone who didn...

The path back is never easy. She was learning that more profoundly with each new day. It's one thing to earn trust the first time, but it's a completely different thing to earn trust after having systematically and thoroughly destroying it over the course of time. Even if it was unintentional.  But she knew that she could not hold his hand along the path. Holding hands requires trust, and that she had none of. Her heart was battered and bruised, and felt it could not take another hit. She was also tired - she felt as thought she had not only held his hand, but also carried him for far too long.  Besides, she had her own path to trod - and it was difficult enough. Some days, it seemed simple: handle the logistics. Do the things you have to do to stay alive and keep your shit together, in other words.  Then of course, there were days like today - where nothing fits and realizations come careening through the atmosphere, out of nowhere.   She made a mistake a...

They were everywhere,  Like ants stuck in a cosmic joke -  Paused mid-stride, Lines and lines of solar panels Crossing the expansive desert.  They stuck to their lines, As all good ants do. They did their job, As all good ants do.  Hour after hour, Day after day, Never any end in sight, Still they fulfilled their duty. Line by line, Row by row. Do they ever get bored? Will it ever get old?

She stretched her body slowly under the relentless heat of the midday summer sun. To say the heat was intense was an understatement - it was a hair's breadth from unbearable, but it was nothing compared to the heat that continued to burn inside of her.  She delicately massaged the edges of her swimsuit to expose her hip bones - she didn't really want to be completely naked under the sun, but the thrill of exposure combined with the grasp of sunlight on her bare skin was too much to resist.  The heat of the sun encapsulated and gripped her like a lover gone far too long who has spent too many nights fantasizing alone. The intensity forced her to arch her back, allowing the slight breeze to rush along her breasts and under the small of her back as beads of sweat glistened against an impeccably blue sky.  She twisted her hips as she arched, hoping to ease some of the tension coursing through them. The dark wicker of the chair burned into her side as she rotated - it hu...