Excert From Romance for Women

by Al Cole author of Romance for Women

It’s never very easy for two people to share Love —

All of a sudden one partner ‘s share is a bit too great ,

A little too small ;

One Lover ‘s needs and desires suddenly a bit out of sorts with the other ‘s

They go ‘ round in circles —

Day in , day out —

If not at the beginning , then surely at the end .


The thrill of the love of Love —

A knife before the eyes of true Love ,

The thing that makes lonesome , Love-sick puppies of us all —

Love-things chasing their own tails ,

A whirlwind of barks worth more than their bite —

A deep-down despair , call it ;

More and more the frightened little child ,

A child learning to deal with the fact of its own sweet emptiness ,

With the possibility of never ever making it at Love —

Kisses on cold lips , touches with the chill of ice ;

Another quick peek at the shadow of ourselves in the mirror of our frozen reality …

Until loneliness seems second nature ,

Until lovelessness looks out longingly , cherishingly ,

desperately to the dangling real thing before it —

The treasure of its own battered affections ,

The sting of first happiness through the bittersweet truth of its own unhappy void .


We are all of us angels …

Angels in the appearances of men ,

Angels in the form of the bodies of women …

And the men and women of our aspect —

They are the ones that really count :

Their passions , seductions ,

their kisses —

Stepping stones lining the path

to our Virginity ;

Their petting , stroking ,

their lovemaking —

Talents blessed by the nature of gods ,

Footsteps back to the soul of an angel !


A kid in heat —

In over his head for the girl in the front row !

Carrying the torch that could light up the world ,

And with it the deep , dark morsels of the soul itself !

Call this the essence of true romance,

And call it truly the Lover here

because already he would be willing to play her Fool ,

To carry her books home ,

To bear her insults ,

Be willing to hold the same feelings for her even if he found out

that she really liked the other kid in the other row —

All this and more because he has already come to her body

a thousand times in the depths of his own soul —

The heat radiating from his body to hers ,

from her body to his own from ten feet away

or from the dizzying and delirious distance of inches !

Because he has already felt the softness of her trembling hand

ravished in his own sweaty palm ,

And has realized the dream of his lips tenderly at home with hers

in the sweltering , swelling moment of an illusion !


The Soul doesn’t look for goodness

. . . that’s the heart’s luxury . . .

It takes what it needs for better or worse ,

Makes it a monument ,

And transforms it to the bold exultation of everything human !

The heart worships the heavens ,

the earth ,

The soul gets up their guts !

It craves only the warm – blooded aroma of a smile it can’t do without ,

Or a body so close that it’s like shaking hands with its own dear conscience !


I woke up this morning

to the other part of my soul . . .

To the feminine side of my Lion

coming out to me ;

It was there at first as a face alone ,

And as I drew nearer to it

I caught hold of the eyes

and wondered what it might mean ;

Speak on that little girl , honey ,

and the woman she holds so near ,

Tell me the energy it might take to bear her

through my own dear heart

. . . Or if I was just dreaming . . .

Tell me this ,

And tell me …

What would it take to break the dream

and capture all of its elements

babes in arms ?

Yes , this tortured , frightened child

bearing in his will the blood of an angel !

Her right to be welling up

from the heart and soul of Magic ,

And pouring out like Wonderment

across the smoke – filled,

fiery heavens —

Farther now than the eye can see !

Oh tell me …

What Magic , what special Magic

might it again take , dearest ,

To fix one more golden gift outside of myself ?

Yes , one more – more and more clearly fixed …

One more – more and more clearly fixed …

More and more clearly … oh ever so clearly …

More and more clearly

Fixed !

. . . Oh , my love !

This Womb !

The power of Tragedy to conceive !

The Impossibility for which sorrow and joy have Survived !

Yes …

This chill and Magic ,

a product of my own forsaken Will —

This Miracle !

. . . I now see before me my own sweet Lioness …

Looking back on me with those Eyes , baby …

Oo , those Eyes !

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