Son of Tennessee Williams

I'm drinking Gin and reading The Picture of Dorian Gray.

I want to devour her and tear her apart. I want to break her into a million tiny perfect pieces. Shattered and crying.

Oscar Wilde was right: we destroy what we love.
I feel Tennessee Williams typing the dialogue of this romantic interlude.
I know this will end in catastrophe.

I know there will be madness.
I see the end before we've just begun.
I can feel her heart breaking with the certainty that I know my first name.
An unavoidable recourse of her desire for me.
A moth to the flame...and she will be consumed by my nature.


I hold to the memory of the first time I saw her walking toward me.
That briefest flicker of warning.....a glance that could have just as easily faded and she'd be "that cute girl I saw in the ******* waiting for my *****.

But instead....she took the window seat....and now.....our lust is on fire, burning brightly.