This is a twisted love story. It’s my favorite kind of love story.
The kind of love story that enraptures you body and soul, the kind of love story that ensnares you in its wicked dreams and carries you away on a black cloud of sin and… the forbidden.

This is a twisted love story, the kind of love story that can only break your heart, that ties you up in knots, that shatters you like glass, the kind of love story that will one day break you into a thousand tiny pieces…if you’re lucky.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that my mother warned me about when I fantasized about real love from a romance novel when I was a child. A true love story cannot be written it can only be…felt.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that I keep coming back to over and over at nauseum, and without fail. It seems… I am a masochist.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that promises redemption but gives no succor for your cause. The kind of love story everyone wants but no one gets. The kind of love story that will kill you dead while you sleep…if you let it.

This is a twisted love story, the kind of love story that is always waiting in the wings but never shows itself, a mere ghost of what the future could have held and you are left wondering…what might have been?

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that will tear you down, shove you into darkness, the kind of love story that will seep into your bones take root like a tree and berate you for not being…perfect.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that will tear you limb from limb and not be satisfied until you are nothing more than blood and gore. Waiting for the sun to rise again.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that will leave the taste of cotton candied rainbows in your mouth and the taste of passion upon your lips, only to have it yanked away in the last moments of…breath.

This is a twisted love story. A story that will make you quiver with delight, the kind of love story that will take you for granted in all the right ways. The kind of love story that will last an eternity, that will shake you to your core and make you a better person. The kind of love that will bring you to your knees and never lose it’s tentative hold.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that will show you the stars when there are none, bathe you in the moons glow when it isn’t glowing, give you a warm fuzzy feeling even when it’s cold.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that is so enamored with itself, you feel the effects long after the thrill is gone.
How do I know all of this, because this is my twisted love story.!



Since I already did a blog with this word in it I am just going to post the link here.



<a href=””>Elegance</a&gt;


It all started with this OWL! I was driving back from somewhere toward my house one evening at the end of the summer when something large with a huge wingspan cut across the front of my car. It was something that moved so swiftly in the dark I couldn’t tell what it was. I stopped so suddenly as to not collide with the beast and almost soiling myself in the process.  I slowly turned my head and there, upon the telephone wire sat, a great big owl. I slowly got out of my car turning on my camera on the phone and with bated breath snapped this photo. He didn’t seem fazed by all the commotion and in fact looked at me as if I were nothing more than a blip on his night. I having, never seen an owl before in real life was left breathtaken and a little curious that he didn’t seem to be afraid of me. He seemed to see into me and a shiver actually went down my spine.

Being more than a little creeped out I slowly backed away and got back in my car and drove home. A part of me shaken to my very core not understanding why? It was just a bird, right? I phoned my friend and relayed the events that had happened and she said, “you know in some cultures seeing an owl is a sign of death.”  Not knowing any of this I, of course, googled it and I wish I hadn’t. You see just a couple of weeks before this I had an overwhelming sense of dread. I had a feeling that I was about to die. I didn’t know how, I didn’t know when, but I felt a certainty unlike anything else I have ever felt in my life. I am still scared of it.

So you can understand that I was more than a little shaken by the news I found on Google. Here is what I found.

Some native American tribes (which I do have a lot of Native American in me). For instance, believe that dreaming of an owl signified approaching death. Boreal owl calls were a call spirits to the Cree people, and if you answered back with a whistle and didn’t get a response, it was a sign that your death was imminent.

Also, owls were associated with witchcraft. Greeks and Romans believed witches could turn themselves into owls, and in this form would come and suck the blood of babies. In other cultures, owls were simply messengers of witches or hooted to warn the approach of a witch.

Some Romans associated owls with the goddess Athena, wisdom, and prophecy.

This is the one that got me cause my friend and I was just talking about it before “the incident” it was that the Ancient Christians saw owls as a sign of evil and linked then with Lilith, Adam’s first, disobedient wife.

There is so much lore, centered around the owls that by the time I read through everything my head was spinning, but he seems to now be following me. I am more than a little freaked out now. It’s as if he doesn’t want me to forget him or something. Because owls keep popping up everywhere in my life. To show you what I mean I am going to add some pics I took of different owls and you can tell me an I worrying for nothing?


There is one pic I don’t have it was right after this incident I had all but forgotten the creepiness of the evening but then I went to work one morning and a friend of mine walked past me and there on her shoulder was an owl purse. Same beady eyes as the real one, but this was only the beginning.

The next one is about a week or so later and I have a pic of it. I went to the doctor to get stitches and as I looked up there at the entrance to the waiting room was a painting of a whole family of freaking owls.


Then came the ads on tv. This one was an insurance commercial.


This one is self-explanatory.


Then came my favorite way to procrastinate (while I am not writing) the tv shows. Granted I have only seen them on two tv shows but they are there every time I watch. This one is 2 Broke Girls see what is behind her on the counter yup it is another owl. I have another pic of the same episode with a shot of an owl on the fridge but I cannot find it at the moment.


Then there is THE BIG BANG THEORY! Look at the table owl salt and pepper shakers. There is another episode where she is in the apartment she had and it does a screen shot of her at the kitchen island with green owl salt and pepper shakers but I never captured that one.


Then there is this one same episode but look what is hanging on the wall behind him.


Then there is my everyday life. My favorite place in the world my used bookstore where I do my open mike poetry nights. The place where I go to unwind and relax. My church so to speak and now it too has been riddled with owls.


And I stopped by there this morning and what do you know right in front of me the owner’s newest addition to the store. Another freaking owl!


Annnd last but I am certain not the least. I was scrolling through stuff on Google this morning after that last pic when I came across the Native American Animal signs. I am not an owl but my best friend who just had her birthday on Saturday is. Ironically the pic looks just like the one I saw that first night, but in a drawing form. Here is that pic.


I am losing my mind here. Please, someone, tell me this is not something I should worry about or is it much like you know when you buy a car and you never see that type of car. Then suddenly because you have one they are everywhere. Am I subconsciously seeking them out? I don’t feel as if I am and yet, they seem to be haunting me. Everywhere I go. Is my madness finally kicking in by way of a night flying bird? Or do I really need to be watchful of falling beams and such? You tell me. Any input would be greatly received.


She was saintly in all that she did.  A wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister. Her roles were etched out for her even before she was born and she played them well.

Always the yes girl, she behaved exactly as she should. Never complaining that her load was too great to bare.

No one ever asking, if she was alright. They just assumed she was, with all her saintly ways.

However, she was full of fire inside. A hunger for a life only she could imagine. A thirst that could never be quenched.

She longed to sink her bare feet into the sand and watch the waves roll upon her. She craved a life she would never have.

She ached to ride wild horses, barebacked and bare-chested. She lusted after the moon and all his beautiful brightness.

She sought a world where she could be free of all her tedious masks. For in her soul she was anything but saintly.


<a href=””>Saintly</a&gt;