Anigasmic

The chances were there. Offered wholeheartedly, Those shining windows of wanting. But they were too bright. And I would turn my head, Belabor another excuse as to why they hurt my eyes. They didn’t. For months they were erected, Directly in front of me. They would beam at me Who would melt from their intensity. A mirror appeared to deflect a margin of these windows’ glare. It helped, But the mirror soon became bored of this pointless endeavor, And abandoned me. I don’t blame her. I soon got used to their heat, their Impending Presence. I never looked at them straight on. How I wanted to. T

The pink satin pillow sighed as Vanessa bestowed her weight upon it. Air rushing from the pillow lifted its chocolate tassels and shuffled them through the air. Vanessa sighed with the pillow, tired from the day's events. A black book endowed with the gleaming golden letters "Journal" rested in her lap.   She did not write in it often, only every now and again when her feelings and thoughts became such an intertwined bundle that she needed help to find stable ground. Retrieving a pen from within her jean pocket, she cracked open the patient books covers. Now, what to write. She thought. Taking a moment to collect her bramble of thoughts, sh