Look For The Girl With The Broken Smile, Ask Her If She Wants To Stay Awhile.
And She Will Be Loved.

There once was a girl whose hair glowed the color of a late summer sunset. All she ever wanted was to be loved and to give love. But she never quite got there. She came close once or twice but something always went wrong. A little slip and that was it. She was alone again. Naturally. When she was young she thought she loved him, the boy with the copper hair and eyes to match. And she did love him, as much as her 15 year old heart would allow. And this is where her pattern began. She broke it off, not because it was going south, or because she didn't like him. It was just the opposite. Things were great and she was happy. But that is precisely what scared her. Happiness. That sneaky two faced emotion. It starts out feeling so right. All good intentions with no ending in sight. But then it changes, morphs into something else. The pain and the emptiness of happiness gone away. That low tug way down in the pit of your stomach. That little voice in your head that tells you how stupid you were for letting it go. It's like a drug. And she became a junkie with him. Learned how to get her fix. A simple ride home. Sometimes that was enough.

It was years before she dated someone new. This boy younger and untrained in the bitterness that accompanies happiness. She was his first girlfriend. His first kiss. Hers were the first breasts he touched. Through her grey hoodie at first, then later with nothing between his hands and her skin. She knew this was not love. Not what she was looking for. But she was having fun. She was young, still able to let her 17 year old body do what it wanted. So they dated. Held hands in the hall. Stole kisses at her locker and behind the band room door. When that ended it wasn't like before, it was very friendly. They talked the next day. Even exchanged a hug or two. But she didn't ache for him the way she did her first. And she understood why. He was a filler someone to pass the time with not to fall in love with.

She kept looking. Her search brought her lips to many others. But in none of those did she find what she wanted. That feeling. Her breath being stolen and her heart speeding. Her hands never shook. Her knees never quivered. And by the time She kissed him she had all but given up. She had packed the ice so thick around her heart that she thought she could handle a no strings relationship. One that consisted of late night drives and early morning returns. That first kiss still lingers in her mind. She can still she them walking up to her car. The stars the only light on that dirt road. She slid her hand into his and her breath caught when his finger interlocked with hers. When they reached her car he leaned her against the door and dipped his head to meet her lips. She pulled away bringing his bottom lip back between her teeth. He kissed her like she had always wanted to be kissed. Rough. Hard. She sees now that they jumped the gun. They hopped into bed too soon for it to be anything else but that. So she was always on her toes. Never letting that feeling creep up on her. Never listening to that voice that said things like "maybe in time" or "he wouldn't kiss you like that unless" She knew deep down that this was not love either. Just time wasting. Waiting it out for something real to come along. But once again her pattern continued and this time a lie was what ended it. She told herself to tell him. Tell him that first night. But she couldn't. She had been telling it for so long that the truth seemed more like the lie than the lie did. So that was that. 7 months of bedding down. 7 months filled with late night invites. 7 months of slowly melting ice. Just to have it all wiped away by an email none the less. The type spelling out what she had known all along. Not love. Not even lust. Just killing time.

Happiness, she's always thought, is a sneaky little bastard of an emotion. She can feel it's eyes on her now. It hunts her in the night. When she's in his bed. In his arms. That's when she feels it's clutches are the closest. It has such a pleasant feeling now. That small swell in her chest. That heat that spreads through her, out of her. But then there is that voice, the one that tells her to wake up. Look at what is actually happening. It's Friday night and you're alone but he isn't. What's wrong with this picture. No this isn't love either. But it has the potential to be. Maybe someday. He makes her laugh. He's made her cry. She itches to be with him when it's been a day or two since she's seen him. But still she knows, sure as she knows what she's felt before, that he isn't ready. Isn't willing to be that one. The one who proves her idea of happiness is wrong. To let her know that it doesn't have to end in a bitter and painful way. And he may never be. So why does she stay. Why does she come when he calls. Why does she never make plans until he has told her his. Because of one reason. It's better to kill time with someone then to do it alone. Alone the time passes slowly. The minute hand ticks by, but it takes hours for it to travel more than five paces. Together hours pass in the blink of an eye. a whole day can be spent laying in bed just being with him. And she's not willing to give that up. Even though she knows his days are not hers alone.

Time is just as sneaky as happiness. It plays tricks the same way. Easing the pain and nurturing the seed of hope. Letting her think that maybe just maybe this one will be different. Only time will tell. But her sense of time has all but slipped away. It's been 20 years. 38 pairs of lips have met hers. 5 men know what she sounds like, what she looks like when she is in that place. But there has only ever been one close call to love, and that was young love. Innocent love. She is starting to believe that maybe there will be no other love for her. Yes she's young. But bitter. And aged beyond her short life. And so the pattern continues. She's just waiting now. There have been a few times, with the current time waster, when the end was in sight. But for some reason it always fades from view. Giving her just enough hope to see him one more time. Forget about the other girls for one more day. Hold out for love, maybe not from him but from someone. There's got to be that. That small glimmer of hope or else none of it is worth it. The high school boy friends. The late night drives to the one with the amazing green eyes. Not even the nights spent in the newest one's bed. Those nights may be the most feeble of all because they seem the most important. It is the freshest wounds that sting the most when the salt gets rubbed in them. Not the old scars. Although they serve their purpose as well. If she loses sight of that hope then she will give up for real and then all of it will be lost. All of it sent to a place too dark for her to see why she held on to them and that just can't happen.