by Amy Joy Lutchen

My lover is gentle, but they say he is mad.

They do not know of his pain, his indecision. “Shall she be blissful, or shall she be tortured,” my love says. “It’s always in the eyes,” he whispers. Will I reflect the affections of misery, joy, and fury that shine in his own?

Does he think me beautiful? I do not know if I am so. I am incomplete, this I am certain, for I ache for more substance. Something is off, but I do not blame him, for others demand perfection. They expect sacrifice.

Inspiration!

His hands move effortlessly across my curves, hugging my frame and rendering me speechless. The flow of his movements a dance, his excitement pulsing through his soft touch. A streak of ultramarine, a halo of gold, and a final dab of crimson to my lips, the climax—the completion. My gentle lover weeps. He loves me, of this I have no doubt.

Amy Joy Lutchen was born in Chicago, Illinois, a few days prior to watching her first movie at a drive-in theater.  Yes, drive-in theater.  And yes, her mother believed she was possessed by the devil after said first movie.  She grew up in the Chicagoland area and graduated from the University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign where she became a number (but decided it was a good number).  She loves cooking (mostly candy cooking), gardening (putting holes in the ground for perennials – DONE!), designing and constructing jewelry, and living with her wonderful husband, two children, black Labrador, and frog… and maybe even the chipmunk family that likes to destroy her aforementioned perennials.  Amy hopes you enjoy her original fictional stories and won’t criticize her for her aversion of eating things in multiples of three.

Advertisements