devlyn-aria

Devlyn lay across the velvet-draped bed, her long mahogany hair spun across the mattress. “I don’t see why you’re getting all dressed up for this guy. I meet, come on, Katia, you’re preening, for crying out loud! You are exceptionally beautiful and you certainly don’t need rouge and a revealing outfit to make a man want you. What’s the point?”            Katerina turned her chartreuse iridescent eyes t on her best friend.            “Because, my dear, we are no longer living in Europe, because of your mouth and ironic detachment and vulgar sense of humor that the French did not find amusing. So here

“I will not marry him!” the young goddess announced in her temple, loud enough to be heard by all in the vicinity, including the “him” to which she was referring. “You have no choice,” her mother stated simply. The goddess was beautiful. In truth, one could hardly tell there were thousands of years difference in their ages. In actuality, the older goddess only looked a few years older. There was compassion in her voice, a lightness. She was the Goddess of Order and Virtue. Light and compelling, she hated to be forceful with her daughter, but currently, it was needed. “Of course I have a choice! I am a godd

My head is clear My heart is full But when I dream, you're still there.

Silent Crescendo There he stood—three years running Spring Break and jazz came and the baton was passed out of his fingers seamlessly. He didn’t know, his shoes still danced along the hot, black pavement as the trumpet Mourned to me about St. James Infirmary and the sounds of laughter, the smell of Bourbon letting me become anyone I wanted, for just that time, as bodies intertwined and became the crowd. No sound in the world like jazz. The music, crescendo at the end, Silence as I watched the race, spectator only, greeting him as he won the gold medal.