the Destruction of word(s)

The way he holds her suggests less than what she expects. An indication of different struggles meddled with. Her touch grasps for his, a frail tender moment unfolded. Uncomfortable facial features as she consumes his every reaction. A climber holds onto a ledge for dear life the way she is with his hand. Yet he breaks each motion to send her plummeting, no rescuers to reach out. Self preservation he trembles as she makes a blind grasp, reluntancy is a subconscious symbol. She has given herself to him like she was taught to do. But it makes a pale effort to his indifference. She tries to give him but his attention is rather to different times than the present. Emulating and exageration of every feature she urges for more than his frustration but fails numerous times. One scene after another he stands defeated even if he was the strongest man on the planet. Sort of a defeated slump when she hugs him. His breath slips out like a sort of last gasp. She claims to read alot she tells me later. But only articles on her beauty or about ways to get someone to notice. She wants to do what he wants. Yet he wants no part. A futile resistance and I write it down. She intoxicated by him. A pyschoanalysist might delve into her inability to be loved and what brought these feelings to tution but I sit sipping cappicino's and laugh to myself. My note pages filled to the brim with her. She is almost too much for my page to even handle. A woman that burts out and grabs you by the throat. I call that passion and the way she enchants you by following you. Watching you even when you cannot view her. She drives by your house and waits outside. To conquer a woman to have her on the floor or in your car on a sidestreet to take her moaning and doing it right. I turn red as my pencil point breaks and she stares at me I pack my stuff like a fawn in headlights.