Armor is not Amore

The excitement of being ‘his’ faded when lights weren’t on him.
In that space between stage-light and candlelight.

This ate at me, but I couldn’t figure it out.
Figured he, too, needed a safe retreat from the world.

He was a typical friendly and popular figure.
Atypically handsome, strong, and kind.

He was the perfectly mannered gentleman.
Perfectly suited for my outgoing personality, quick mind.

Our entwined fingers co-mingled our recycled hearts.
Quickly and happily mingling our lives.

We were into each other, laughed and loved at will.
Yet found myself willing him to dive into me, see.

We told each we felt deeply for one another.
Settled in less than deep waters, still.

His lack of intimacy gnawed at me.
Though I’d nod, and tell myself, “Give it time.”

I came to recognize this was his mask, not mine.
Not an act, mind you, as I doubt he recognizes his shadow.

Perhaps armor is more accurate.
But armor is not amore.

~Just L (October 19, 2017)


He touched me in places I had avoided for most of my life.
The scar on my belly —
The muffin top with jelly —
My too busy brain —
So where I had once experienced pain now interestingly aches.

~Just L (October 16, 2017)

Our Union An Oeuvre

When I need the warmth of an embrace

Cadence of words, sweet reassurance

Your luscious mouth my wounds erase

Blowing rhythmically lifting my stance

Under moonlight sharing a dance

Pressing the small of my back’s curve

Inhaling your vetiver fragrance

Our union an Oeuvre!

~Just L (A Ballade, October 9, 2017)

But, we didn’t get to wake up to the end of the story…

The Las Vegas shooting terrorized more than concert goers as active shooters were reported down the strip as far as Caesars Palace.

For those who say, but you weren’t at the concert (dismissing thousands of people’s terrifying experience), “Yes, but we didn’t get to wake up to the end of the story…”

Here’s my short personal account.

~Just L (October 7, 2017)

The title was a quote by my girlfriend, Kristina,

We are grateful we got to see another day. My heart breaks for the families of the 58 who didn’t.

Hiding in the staff uniform room in Caesars’ basement after running for our lives.