The only woman who is or ever was.

This is written the way I think.
I sounds like a graphic novel to me.
Actually, it reminds me of "A Girl and Her Cat" by the guy who did Voices of a Distant Star.

Enjoy.


I'm lying in my bed exhausted.
It's hot, and the fan isn't helping.
I can hear my dogs fighting in the living room.
I can't forget what you said last night.
It was about women.
It's weird, how you understand women.

Perfectly.

My feet ache, my shoes are too small.
My stomach hurts too.
Why can't I get you out of my head?
This longing, I haven't felt like this before.

It's so humid here.

I kick off my shoes, and take off my jeans.
Donning, instead, a pair of mens boxers.
I look up at the orange lamp hanging from my ceiling.
Then the posters on the wall.
My room, clothed in bright colors, is oddly soothing.
I turn over and hug my pillow, wanting to drift away.

A song plays softly in my head as I lay dozing.

I find myself listening to it.
As always, the music transports me into a dream.
I'm standing at the edge of a forest.
My robes are hot and heavy.
A shadow of the burden I bear.
I lean on my staff and look inward of the forest.

What lays in wait for me there?

As I walked I met a man, he said he knew me.
He seemed a mystery, yet a gentile soul.
I wonder, where have I met him?
He seems so familiar.
He leans in to whisper in my ear.
"You deserve to feel that way."
What way?

I hear a loud sound.

I find myself again lying in my room.
Stupid dogs, still play-fighting.
I roll over and look at the time.
All most time for dinner.
I begin to think, yet again, of you.
Your tender kiss.
Your soft voice.

As I wait for you to call.