For K.R, the Dance of disappearance

The Ugly Papers, a series of off the cuff Monroe style choppings of emotions run wild. What a Monster I was and a brute I have become

Well, ladies and gents, there's a firm grip on a small glass with jack daniels and a hard pipe in the ashtray.

 

This is the day that pain built, or at least drew up the plans for.

Today I think I'm going to leave a bit of the the black death in the cup for that one.

 

You know the one.

 

She was a blond when we met, high cheek bones, but still had that little chipmunk thing going on.

 

She'd always say she was nervous...even when she meant excited, or scared, or in love.

 

That happened quickly, you know, one of those things, blue streak of lightning, a crackling that you see and forget, but knew it was close.

 

She made dinner one night. I had no idea it was going to happen. She just had it waiting. Made the best damn cookies. Chocolate chip with a melted bit of peanut butter in the top.

 

Sliding the back door open to let her tiny toy chiuhaha in the house. Xena, the warrior dog.

 

I smoked back then, would head out onto the back porch and take in a massive breathe of fresh oak. I'd lean over the bannister and peek in through the blinds and get glimpses of her in one inch openings. She moved, you know. Moved like a housewife with angel wings. Pots and pans, gotta check the temperature, how's that sauce?

I'd punch smoke rings out into the thin upper NJ air.

I'd swirl little pieces of ice back and forth like playing a minature hockey game.

I'd look back through the blinds and catch her eyes.

We'd share a electric moment.

Deep brown eyes, kids, like pools of swirling souls.

her cheek bones would rise up, I knew she was smiling. She pick her hand up and extend her index fingure.

 

"I can't take my eyes off of you..."

 

She'd playfully push it forward and backward in the ol "c'mere" way, you know. The sultry. The goddess in the kitchen. All I existed for. All that was right with a series of wrongs.

 

Just an inch of her face. Just her eyes.

Just her eyes.

 

A card left under my dinner plate expressing sentiments that if put here would bleed pixelated love from the screen.

 

"And so it is...Just like you said it world be

Life goes easy on me....most..of the time"

 

You showed me that movie with that one chick in it.

Got that song from it. After dinner and before cookies i grabbed your hand and we danced and we fell into The Blower's Daughter like a liquid dream.

 

That day, the world spun for us. You fit right in the crese of my neck, right?

I know, nervous...or just emotional.

 

I leaned in and kissed right under your ear.

 

and slowly...

 

you disappeared.

I held tightly to your shirt.

 

"Wel'll both forget the breeze...most of the time.."

 

I pray that you would stop fading like a bad nightmare, or like a fever.

 

"I can't take my mind off of you"

 

You would pull back remember? And blow raspberries at me when I went in for a kiss.

This time there was no sound, just the way you would smile crookedly in the nook end of your mouth.

 

The plates vanished.

You walked backward, smiling.

 

Now I dance alone. It's different. It's tough. Ungainly. No rythm. you were the breath that kept me balanced.

I stand outside and peek though the blinds, there is an empty space of stone weighted promises, used dreams and a mystery that is somewhere at the bottom of a lake of yesterday.

 

"so it is..the shorter story

no love no glory,

no hero in her sky.."

 

Someone said they saw you yesterday...

and for one second,

 just one second

 

my heart started beating again.

 

 

E. H. Monroe

The Ugly Papers

Entry One

Author's Note

The fucking Blower's daughter...and the tears it produces..

Reviews

[Crowley]

Talk about chick fodder....this one doesn't take the cake, it buys it from that nut cake maker in Jersey. All kidding aside, I liked this side of your thought process. Everyone has that spot, even you...and this was as well laid out as any love story only more real. This was some nice writing and a hell of alot of emotion. A plus...

[Melinda Weber]

Oh wow... amazing, just f*****g amazing. You ooze talent that blows my mind. I adore this. I can't give a massively detailed review, because the words i have wont do this justice. I just have to have it, stored as a favorite in my library so i can read back on it from time to time. Thanks for sharing =)

[Maya Storm]

"...Xena, the warrior dog." *me>>chuckle*
"Moved like a housewife with angel wings." (where do you sit when you're thinking up this stuff?) I like the pace in which you write... now this real life love... no butterflies just crickets... I really enjoyed reading this. You get all ten toes.

[Joiedevivre]

phew... just like he song the spirit of this story is imbued with weighty melancholy. So real and atmospheric it makes my heart sink and soar.

[Veronica Chandler]

Your piece for me is a deadly delight, like a fisherman's lure, shinny and bright, "I can't take my eyes off of you" tempted me to chase your words. "Just an inch of her face Just your eyes just your eyes" made this fish dart to capture the vibe. "...Would bleed pixelated love from the screen." I snatched up that lure, got it stuck in my lip and I was caught up in a net. "Someone said they saw you yesterday...and for one second just for one second, my heart started beating again", hook line and sinker I got caught up in this piece.

[Jūdan FyreHeart]

Incredibly honest. Every little emotion carried across perfectly, fantastic work. Not much more I can say - all just sounds trite anyway.

[Amanda Dawn Sanderson-G..]

You take a story and make it real, whether it's because it's the truths you lived or what... but you take control and put plenty of power behind every word you choose in every sentence... in every story. You always keep me gripped to the computer desk... eyes glued to the screen... and heart ready to race, skip, or stop all together. And at times you end with me in tears. Either from the love, the pain, or the truths. Either way.... I still come back for more... I crave it, I desire it... I don't think my life would be complete without the writings of EH Monroe... thank God for this (at times, annoying) site, otherwise I'd have never fell into the trappings of your mind and your fantastic stories. Keep on truckin' and I'll keep tailing your a*s.

[faryn wolff]

The tears THIS produces.
Oh you & saddness & loneliness, tender nervous love, tender nervous aching whyohywhyness... Surely you have some kinda Vulcan mind-powers thing going on...I feel every syllable & punctuation mark, and of course the ee-moshun they compose....Why, I'm wondering if I am the narrator. I miss her so much, yknow, her crooked smile & all. I love how it is unedited, this is straight from your mind & heart & soul to words, why it's a motion picture in my mind, surely you transported the words from that other dimension which you undoubtedly inhabit, sipping your poetry coffe & looking up at your poetry stars & perhaps noticing every time a pretty poetry lady walks by with pretty poetry thoughts dancing in her pretty poetry eyes...Let's make a new literary movement together, kay? I like where you are & where you're going. you're on a marvelous path.

[Kerry O'Connor]

You have told this age-old tale of love lost so well - in fractured images, the way we remember the past, in a series of sensory images, rather than in linear episodes. It is so authentic, that the emotions expressed are instantly absorbed by the reader and made his own (or her own). But what is a story without a smack-bang conclusion, and you certainly nailed it.

Someone said they saw you yesterday...
and for one second,
just one second

my heart started beating again.

Ugh!! I felt that - a blow to the solar plexus!

[robyn.alexandra]

Bloody hell, this is the first bloody time EVER a piece of writings made me cry. This is deeper than ocean, and more painful than a rabid dog tearing at your man parts while an old man pokes you in the eye.
What can I say, clearly an old wound ripped back open, you transfuse the pain that flows into this to share with us all. It echoes in my thoughts so beautifully sad, like a ghost it wanders ever so quietly, clawing at my brain with cold noexistent fingers, as you retell those wonderful early days, missing them with every breath.