Blue Eyes and White Lies

A writer, lover, thinker, and midwestern, book-loving sexpot.


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What’s your favorite position?

Mine is under the covers and in my underwear.

Of course, I’m talking about reading. Right now, there weather is getting warmer, but one of my favorite things to do when there’s snow and cold, is to get my favorite book and slide under some clean, cool sheets. And you can’t be fully clothed under sheets. Trust, me I’ve tried and it’s terrible.

What’s strange is I don’t mind sleeping nude, but while reading I just can’t do it. So I’m usually in shorts and a tank top, but something comfortable. And I have to have wine or hot chocolate. There’s just something about books that makes me feel nostalgic, romantic even. I love it. And I love those days I can spend under the covers with just me and a hardcover.

It’s got me all excited. I think I’ll go do just that right now.


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How to Deal With Jehovah’s Witnesses

**Please note: This is FICTION.**

There’s a knock at the door, which is strange, but I open it anyway. Two guys stand there with pamphlets in their hands. I’m not wearing a bra and my shirt covers my shorts so it looks like I’m pantsless. The wintery cold air hits my chest and I see the younger of them glance down, then look away.

Hi, do you have a minute? the older asks.

Sure, I say and I bend down to scratch my ankle, letting my shirt fall forward a bit.

The older of the two starts talking about natural disasters and how the world is turning to shit and the whole time I’m staring at the younger guy biting my lip. He smiles and looks at the older man and nods.

Wouldn’t you agree? he says.

It’s cold, do you two want to come inside?

Oh no, we couldn’t go in there.

But I’m freezing. And all this stuff your saying is turning me on.

Excuse me?

I’m not interested, I say. I stretch and lift my chest in the air and I see them both look away into the distance.

Well, sorry to bother you, the older one says.

He shuts my door and I go back to sitting in my blankets.


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Winter Days

I’m not much of a poet, but I dabble. So here’s something I’ve been working on. Hope you like it.

Winter Days

Ashes rest on my nightstand where
they missed the tray. We laid in bed
for hours when the snow fell
and made love under heavy blankets,
drinking hot chocolate spiked
with scotch. Singed holes in my sheets
remind me of your memory and the ashes
remain untouched, a fragment of us.