So I lie in wait
As the clock struck close to 4
But nothing happened.

Mornings should always start right , with kisses, a prayer, a hearty breakfast and most importantly – your morning coffee. Today I will teach you my own version, of how to make Jo’s Personal Caramel Macchiato, made with ingredients known and secret and created just for you. It may not be able to compete with the world class creations of coffee, but it is created with only one person in mind.

 

• Fill the metal pitcher 3/5 of the way full with milk.

 This is done gently, as with the first steps of a newborn baby, seen with delight – pouring the milk must be done with a smile, filling the heart with thoughts of nights spent in each other’s arms, and waking up to the cries of an infant waiting to be fed.

• Place thermometer securely inside of the pitcher.

A gauge, one might say almost like a lighthouse, out there by the rocky banks of the sea. Shining a great beam of light, for the seafarers – reminding them not to go too far, or not to come too close to shore. A gauge, because you need to wait at the right time.

• Steam milk to 150 degrees. Temperature will raise an additional 5 degrees as it sits.

Ice and fire make steam or something to that effect. Steam that soothes and burns at the same time. Steam the milk, and watch it as it happens, making sure that the fire in the heart blazes as the temperature rises.

• The steam wand should be inserted diagonally just below the surface of the milk, creating froth.

Patience, watching for the right time to say the right things – to do the right stuff. That’s what you’ve taught me, most importantly. Above all, to do everything as it should, done 1000%, given heart, even if its just creating froth.

• Tamp the ground espresso into the head and lock it into position on the espresso machine.

How can you make coffee without espresso? And how can I be a wife, if you’re not my husband? It takes a special kind of coffee to make a special cup of Jo. Yes, Jo it’s spelt like that because this is Joseph’s coffee not anyone else’s.

• Pouring shots is an art form, but this drink is... flavored: However, a perfect shot has a fluid heart, minimum body and a small helping of cream or foam on its surface. A "perfect shot" is pulled inside of 15-20 seconds.

Pour a shot, do it with care because each droplet is precious, like the family we built together. Every instance is important, each occasion special and not to be missed. But the most important memories are the simple ones in every day – like making you coffee before you get up for work or covering our children’s books with plastic.

• Grab your glass! You'll need to pour 1 ounce, or equivalent to 2 pumps on normal flavor pumps for every 8 ounces. Do this twice

Relationships need flavor – and you, my love have a distinct taste. Family, love, life, commitment – form this sweet subtle flavor in my mouth. It is heady and intoxicating and definitely you. You mesmerize me, and I love it.

• Pour your steamed milk over the the flavoring leaving 2 inches for froth at the top.

If you are the strong tasting coffee, let me be the milk that mixes and merges with you. I will take away the bitterness and provide you with the right blend of strong coffee and sweet tasting milk. Let’s complement each other baby.

• Scoop froth over your milk until you're 1 inch from the rim.

It’s like icing in your cake. Yeah, you can have the cake without the icing but would it make the experience the same? Our froth – are times when we disagree, when we laugh, when we cry and feel the same way. Finishing each other’s sentences, reading each other’s thoughts, getting the same items, eating the same meals. In sync. Yes, we can do without the froth, we’ll be ok without the froth but it makes everything so much better doesn’t it?

• Pour your shots over the froth.

Time to mix baby.. Let’s merge together, day after day, night after night. Let me be the one to lay out your clothes, fix your tie and argue you with over who gets to control the remote.  We won’t just have intertwined lives, but one. Like milk and espresso becomes one drink instead of two.

• Make patterns of your choice, drizzle caramel syrup over the froth

Do you know what design I would pick? No no, not a heart.. I’d make a pen… covered by stars that twinkle in the night sky.  Because you, you are the pen that lets me write. Your love is the ink I use to create worlds out of dreams and realities out of fantasies.

And when it’s done, I will deliver it to our bed, wave the steaming cup of caramel macchiato under your nose and wake you up with a kiss. I love you, and I can't wait to make you coffee everyday, husband.

Something tells me you're getting weaker by the second and you don't want to hang on anymore. Who can blame you? After all, you're in a relationship with a girl who's hurt you  when she should be loving you and making you happy.  You tell me, that I still make you happy - but it doesn't seem to outweigh the many times where I've hurt you. How is that right? How is this good for you?

You should leave me.

All logic dictates that you should. But I'm hoping that you don't. Somehow, a world without you seems bleaker, darker less hopeful. It's a world that I'm so ready to give up on.

I don't know what to do, how to begin to make amends but I do know I love you and I do want to make us work. Hopefully, you will stay long enough for that to happen. I am your Marie. Not Alyx nor Ann - but Marie.

When all is said and done, here's where I want to be. With you, beside you, forever with you. When daylight streams into this room and the cold rays of the sun pierce through my bleeding open skin - I know of only one absolute fact.

I love you, and I want to be with you. For best and for worst.

-----------------------------------------

Let's run away together you and I
It doesn't need to be a grand escape
Just take my hand and run with me
Outwit the guards standing by our door
Swim away, escape to shore
Everything I need is here with me
Placed in between a world of uncertainty
Here I am, just take my hand
   We'll make it great, we'll make it grand.


Ti Amo my love...

Wrote this last night, amidst tears and broken starlights.
Its a stupid song without rhythm
But its a song for you and what I'm feeling
Please stay, I need you with me.
Please stay - baby stay right here.

-------------

Here are my words,
My one final try
Hoping you'll come back home
Right back to me
Come back home
I beg you please my baby.
Please won't you stay

Cause its empty in this great big house
And I'm screaming so loud but no one hears me crying
And its empty here when you're not with me
There's a million people but you're not the one I'm looking for
Not the one I adore

Here's my request
I'm down on my knees
Here are my broken wrists
And my bleeding heart
I need you here
Please stay with me
My baby
Please say you'll stay

Cause its empty in this great big house
And I'm screaming so loud but no one hears me crying
And its empty here when you're not with me
There's a billion people but you're not the one I'm looking for
Not the one I adore

And I need you, need you here with me
I'm broken baby without you I'm dying
So save me save me won't you please
Take my hand
Baby can't you see I'm drowning..

I'm scared.
I finally have the guts to admit how scared I am. How uncertain of the future... Everything seems to have gone awry..  What happened to my life? How did it get to be this fucked up? And will I ever get a chance of redemption?

I'm scared.
The tunnel is dark and damp and I'm cold and shivering. I am not afraid of being alone, I am afraid of not having a life with you anymore. I pray to God I haven't pushed you so far away that I cannot run after you anymore. Yet you stand by my side, tell me you love me, despite everything that's gone wrong. You wipe my tears and present me with images of rain, and love and life and bears. You cover my bleeding hands and tell me to stop crying. You're still here.

This isn't rock bottom after all, you're still here and I draw strength from you and for you. My love, my king, my Joseph.

I'm scared, but as long as you're here - I still have the strength to fight.

 Tiny little pieces, lay scattered on the ground.
I dare not pick them up.

I open my the shutters of this room and let the morning light casts its piercing rays - reflecting, illuminating, casting brilliant flecks of light across the room. A rainbow illusion. Amazing how such beauty could come from something that's broken and beyond repair. Amazing how, from this wreck, a rainbow of promise chose to shine its light. 

On my knees, I bend down and start picking up the pieces of crystal on the rug - it is a painstaking process and I have to to be careful. I am not alone in this house, and it might pose a danger to the others. Especially the ones who run around, barefoot - laughing gleefully.

Innocent youth.

I am halfway done, the crystal carefully placed in a tray - broken but safe. Liquid streams from my skin and I hastily brush it off - my hand braced on the floor for support. A sudden stab of pain jolts through me and a cry streams from my lips.

A curse.
I look at my hand - there it is. Like a traitor - head buried in my flesh and backside rearing.

Crashing to the floor, I sit - frustrated. The crystal is hard to take out by myself. I look around the room - there's still plenty to fix and the clock is almost tolling 3. They'll be here soon.

The door opens and I see you come in. Worry reflects on your face - furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. You come to me and take my hand. I hear you admonish me, but I am distracted by your touch. It's soft, protective - as you peer at my palm.

"Wait here."

You leave me and rummage through the drawers. I feel stupid, reduced to a small child unable to move or speak. Can barely stammer. You take my hand and with the tweezers, carefully take the crystal out. Before I can protest, you place your lips on my palm and stop the blood from flowingg. I blush and smile. You grin at me.

"Come here."

I crawl to your open arms and lie cradled there, nested and safe. Protective, didn't I say that before? That's how I feel as you stroke my hair and caress my hand. We lie there, minutes passing without notice before you slowly disengage. It's time to return to work. I nod, and we finish collecting the rest of the pieces. As we rise from the floor, you called my name.

"Next time, call me. We'll do it together.'

I nod and you take me in your arms as you whisper in my ear.

"That's what husbands are for you know."

FIN

And so I sit here all alone
A gust of wind becomes my song
And the scattered leaves become my blanket
In a sea of lies where truth is wrong

--------------

WOOOMPPHH!! Was rummaging through all my stuff (by stuff I mean junk, old notebooks, papers, test quizzes from the 3rd grade) and found this stanza scribbled at the back of my "Introduction to Poetry" compilation freshman year. Unsure of whether its mine or not, but it's in my handwriting. So I shall take ze credit for it.

So what's up? The NANK has celebrated its 11th anniversary and its actually the first year since the Fontana inception that we haven't gotten together. Chalk it up to internal conflicts. *eyes narrowing*

Vincent's Death anniversary also falls on the same day, so... Wherever you are little Vince Vince, I miss you and your long shaggy hair! Best shittzu ever! (And on a sidenote /hugs to Storm, Fluffy and Chuckie who all joined Vincent in doggy heaven)

All that aside, I've just been cleaning. watching DVDs, pirating series and PDFs and getting the word out on the Book Blockade Owtai?!


P.S. Have made my first Baby Book, just for Due. Originally was going to write for the brood, but decided, upon reading it to ze hubby that I want them each to have individual storybooks for night time loving. Although, now that I think about it, how will we ever read bedtime stories to 18 kids all at once? Oh yeah, they won't all be kids at the same time!

P.P.S  Needs to catch up on Reborn readings, desperately looking for link to the Hellsing and FMA Brotherhood Manga (and Fushigi Yuugi, Tenjo Tenge and and and.. umm.. Fate/Stay Night) Halp!

P.P.P.S Online shopping is dizzingly fun, for the bibliphiles, check out Avalon. Great place for second hand , out of print books resources.

You have to admit, I gave it a shot at least. But it just won't pan out the way I wanted it to be and as much I'd love to keep trying, there's really no denying it. I have to blog. Properly and without it being tagged as just "Notes" So let me try to get back into the groove of writing again. It's really hard you know, when I'm used to just 250 character entries or writing for the dollars that will come my way.

Let me try and set a balance. For now, forgive me. I feel like I've been reverted to a 12  year old kid who does not yet know how to properly write (or type if you're the type to deal with the semantics). Let me do this, feel my way around the dark tunnel again, and let me find my own way back. To utopia, to the basic that holds a writer's pensieve.