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Archive for the tag “love”

Love Moon

Love Moon (2)

She looked my way,

when sorrow overtook her,

and cast her shine upon my useless heart. 

I’ve seen that look before,


through moving windows,

separating us for a moment,

like the miles would,


separate us for all time. 

But tonight,

like sometimes,

when the earth and the moon are close as life allows,

I feel her. 

Not how we were,


but in the only way there is left to us. 

In our wounded hearts,

under the Love Moon.


© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Please May I Have a Coma?

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“Please, may I have a coma?”

 I said that in a conversation with a friend the other day.  There was no correlation to any one thing I remember talking about.  It was just a stand-alone thought.  This sort of thing happens often with me, seeming, usually, completely disconnected from whatever train of thought or flow of conversation I’m having in that moment.  Most people, even those closest to me, miss it.  That instant when my consciousness gets invaded by my subconscious, and my Freudian Slip starts to show.

I used to miss it, too.

But a lot has happened over the last year so that, on this day, I didn’t miss it at all.

I, and most of my nearest and dearest, have had a hard year.  I can’t explain why.  Okay, maybe?  The same way people try and explain how a half-a-dozen women, in regular near-proximity to each other, seemingly sync their periods.  Or how, when you buy a make and model of car you never really gave much thought to, and then it seems like that same car is on every street, and in every parking lot, everywhere you go. 

The collective unconscious, manifested.

And no, I don’t believe for one minute that, like periods or late-model cars, any of my friends and I wanted our collective shits to happen, but maybe there’s something equally invisible going on that drew us all together before, so that we could be here for each other in the during, and rejoice with each other in the after.  Because that’s why human beings have friends. 

“Please, may I have a coma?”

Now that the end of another November is here, and with it, the end of another National Blog Posting Month, I think it’s time for a re-examination.  Priorities that held this priory together last month, last year, last life, no longer belong in my life.  Things that once felt important, no longer feel that way.  And I’m educated guessing that the same is being said by many of my friends.  But human beings are nothing if not creatures of habit.  One of those habits is holding onto to things we’ve outgrown, or that have outgrown us.  I don’t know what you’ve outgrown but, like a closet full of last decade’s fashion disasters and fat pants, for me, it’s time to make room for something new, or maybe for nothing new at all, but only for what’s most important. 

Because a closet full of winter coats does you no good if you live the rest of your life in the sunshine.

“Please, may I have a coma?”

Okay, but only for a little while.  It’s time to empty out my storage, give away what I won’t be needing, and decide where the sun shines brightest for me.  But don’t worry.  You’re ALL my friends.  And I’ll leave breadcrumbs on the trail, wherever it is I go. 

Thank you for reading my words these last 30 days.  And thank you for allowing me to spend it reading yours.

Till then. 





© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

For as Long as I Remember

nano poblano 19

I got burned

for getting

too close to fires,

but I won’t end up

one of those

sad-ass liars. 


I’ve been a sucker

for as long

as I remember,

I’ll be a motherfucker

before the

first of December. 


Because only

two things happen

when you’re unguarded. 

You’re either loved

or you’re



© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday


nano poblano photo 15

It’s not

a matter of

how little

or how much,

but only

of how well

we touch.


© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Ruby Marie and Me

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The last of the “Ruby Marie Trilogy”.


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Love is a rollercoaster. 

It wasn’t made to go in a

straight line,

and the turns are unexpected. 

Sometimes as you ride,

you can’t breathe,

and you feel like

your bones will break,

and at the worst moments,

you don’t even believe the lap bar

will keep you safe. 

But there is the hand of the one riding next to you. 

Squeezing your hand so tight

you think your fingers will pop,

yet you never want them to ever let go. 

Because it’s in that hand that

you feel the only safety there is. 

Not the safety of the lap bar,

but the safety of love. 

Flying, falling, twisting without warning. 

And with it,

the unbroken knowing that

as they are squeezing your hand,

you are squeezing theirs. 

Neither of you with any

plans for letting go.


© 2017 William S. Friday

The End of the World

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The end of the world came in silence,

except for the sound of tears hitting the hardwood floor

a couple of miles away. 

I knew it as I woke,

too late to stop it. 

I tried, but it wouldn’t let me. 

The world is stubborn that way. 

Doesn’t mean I’ve given up. 

Giving up isn’t in me anymore,

I just have to pretend I give up from time to time,

to satisfy the world;

which isn’t fucking easy,

because the world is smart.  

The world is too damn smart for its own good. 

So for now, the end of the world is here. 

I just won’t tell it how bullshit that idea really is.


© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Open My Mouth

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“Open my mouth with yours”,

he whispered,

before her lips parted,

and she slid her soul inside him.

“I have a dirty mouth”,

she whispered in return.

“Then there will always be truth in your kisses”,

he answered.

Before the distance between them was no more.


Worlds colliding. 

Stars born then dying. 

Lights fading. 

Fears abating.

Hunger raging.


Lives in need,


Insanity dissipating.

No more anticipating.

Each the other’s cure.       


“Open my mouth with yours”,

she whispered,

before their lips parted,

and their souls were at home inside each other. 

“You have a dirty mouth”,

he whispered in return. 

“Then there will always be truth in my kisses”,

she answered. 

Before the distance between them was no more.


© 2017 William S. Friday

And If a Hundred

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It’s not about who you want to love.  Love is very much like lust in that way.  If you could fuck a hundred, you could love a hundred.  And if a hundred fucks, or a hundred loves, there must be a hundred reasons to love the one of them who could love you.

Will she keep you honest when you’re having that asshole moment, when you don’t yet know how stupid you are in those thirty seconds between your idiot words and when you speak the words that tell her you’re sorry?  And for those thirty seconds, will she still keep her hand on your cock, and look you straight in the eyes, waiting, because her love for you will not wane, even when it hurts her soul?  And more important than that, will she tell you, right then, in that moment?  Because you’re a fool sometimes, and you don’t want her to just get over it, you want her to share her disappointment or sadness or grief, even if, especially if, you are the one who caused it.  Because that’s the only way you will learn how to love. 

Because only the insanity should be temporary.

It’s not about who you want to love.  It’s about who wants to love you.  And if a hundred fucks, or one.  A hundred loves, or one.  A hundred reasons, or one.  


© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

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