The CWC: On Love
The Canadian Writers Collective- along with some very special guest bloggers- are all about the lovin’ this February 2007. Drop in for a sweet slice (or a sour one, or a bitter one)! Be sure to comment. Tell us your love stories. Swap dating nightmares. Join in the cuddle party! Or rain on the whole parade- we love that too! Whether you’re bah humbugging St. Valentine or drowning in Harlequins, we want to hear from you. We’ll be picking the comment we love the most for a special prize.
posted by Andrew Tibbetts | 12:09 pm
5 Comments:
Here is my contribution:
This is Us
This is us dancing to CBC Blue Note, you holding me so I don’t fall, us making a soufflé together, me strumming the guitar for you, us napping outside after cycling, you bringing me wine in the shower and leaving a note on my pillow.
This is us playing backgammon on the picnic blanket, you guiding me to the sunny spots on the Ferry and me bringing you Handel; it is us laying down under your weeping willow and you talking about your squirrels; you showing me the owl in the night and caressing me in the hot tub. It is us hitting the ball together and you taking out my Christmas tree, you bringing me baskets of greens and me wearing a red dress.
This is me wanting to go away to write; this is you, torn by my absence.
This is me wanting every moment to be good; you, knowing that it will hurt. This is the brave new us starting again and making different mistakes than before.
This, I hope, is us locking fingers, accepting to come and go and always be there, knowing that some times are better alone and all the others spent together are but a gift from the universe that we chose to open at the same time.
213 words
Lovely Suzanne!
Chez Aphrodite
You jumped into my revolving door. Your Greek warrior shoulders and Adonis face. A delicious moment of whooshing, twirling, swirling bliss. Then you escaped in a gust of wind.
If I were a colour I’d be beige, like oatmeal, or the colour of change-room walls.
There’s a sign on the cracked window:
Chez Aphrodite School of Sex Appeal –
Awaken the Seductress Within
“Un, deux, trois… now follow me daw-ling.” Madame, a 58 year old Barbie doll with a gypsy face, ran her hands seductively down her thighs. “You must swing your bottom. Like zis.”
I strutted and swayed and caressed my thighs but you walked past me on the street as if I was a crumbling stone statue.
“Promise me you will buy a sexy pair of high-heel sling backs. Have you not heard of toe cleavage, dawling?”
Days pass. I finally spot you leaving your glass tower. I wobble up to you in my new stilettos. So close I’m lost in the maze of your navy herringbone. I smell your cologne, like steaming chocolate with cinnamon. Your pheromones cling to me like a wet bathing suit. You turn and bump me. You say, “Sorry.” To me. You couldn’t identify me in a police line up. But you spoke… to me.
I move in front of you, stop you in your tracks. I nudge your Hawaiian sunset tie with my index finger while I drown in your surprised, deep-sea eyes.
“With your lips parted, give him a smouldering look that tells him he’s yours. Then walk away. After all, daw-ling, anticipation is the key that unlocks the door of desire.”
See you around.
Thank you, suzanne!
Oh wow, Leanne. This is amazing.
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