Sigh...

I don't know if it's love or obsession. Maybe a little of both. But in the night, when the wolves come knocking at the door, I find myself reliving some things. I remember tight blue jeans, a black leather jacket, a purple velvety top with a v-neck and a chain, and the most gorgeous eyes I'd ever seen on a woman.

Then there's a night she wore an outfit that when I saw it, my jaw literally dropped - a tight red v-cut blouse, a black skirt, and black calf-high boots. Sex appeal on two legs, live and lusty.

A night of flowers and Italian food, conversation for hours, and a suggestion of another date. A red top, black slacks, and dress pumps.

Even when she called herself dumpy, and wore a green top, faded old jeans, and flip flops (which annoy the hell out of me on anyone else), with tears in the rain and heartbreak on the wind, she was nothing short of beautiful to me.

I'm a romantic and a fool. I didn't give as much to one person because of fear of myself, and I followed that up by giving everything I had to another who was only looking for a good time. Live and learn. I know what I want. But at night, in the dark, with memories and dreams my only company, I know what love is. And the wolves can't take that.

Good night.