A Poison Tree – William Blake

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I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,–

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

© Copyright 1794 William Blake.




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2014 in Review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

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A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,200 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 20 trips to carry that many people.

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Win or Lose

Each unseen blow that brings you down
Takes all your breath so you can drown.
You fight and win, or so you think
Each “win” will bring you to the brink.

Hands you can’t see will urge you on,
You’re smart, you feel just like a pawn.
You fight and win, or so you think
Then darkness will give you a wink.

The emptiness you feel is crushing
Feelings of dread come forward, rushing.
You fight and win, or so you think
You’re just a captive in a rink.

Your opponent – slick and cunning
Only for you is always gunning.
You fight and win, or so you think
You’re not the chain, only the link.

Loneliness, your greatest friend
Just strength forcing your will to bend.
You fight and win, or so you think
Your joy all gone in just a blink.

Your isolation has gained wings
Only to hold you tight in strings.
You fight and win, or so you think
But all you want to do is drink.

A deathcup – sip and go to sleep
But know the price is way too steep.
To stop the voices just give in,
Just know:
For all your fight, that’s not a win.

© Copyright 2014 Olivia G. Owens. All rights reserved.


My Life Will Never Be the Same


My life will never be the same…

A college degree is supposed to be enough. It wasn’t. The career path I chose was difficult if intentional. Although challenging, the decision was made rather quickly. Perhaps out of necessity, perhaps out of a need to try something exciting, new and unique.

I have never done anything like this before. It certainly wasn’t something I ever wished as a child. Once the decision was made, I felt eager, scared, and apprehensive all at once.

My first time was exciting and terrifying woven into an irresistible need to satisfy. Despite the shivers running through my body, the worried eyes gazing back at me from the mirror challenged me to follow through. The evening’s promise left me spinning and breathless. I could see the pulse in my throat.

Slowly, deliberately, and consciously I applied my makeup. I decided on simple black pants and white top; flats no heels. In case I need to run, I joke to myself.

I slowly open the door and walk into the room. The lights are low and glowing. Soothing music plays adding to the ambiance. I sit and wait until my name is called. My heart is pounding.

I hear my name and my heart jumps. Apprehensively I meet my client and escort him back to the readied room.

He walks in a little hesitant. I could tell this is his first time as well. He doesn’t know what to expect. I almost burst out laughing. I wasn’t sure who was more scared; he, the one in charge, or I, unsure of my… skills.

I ask him to remove his shirt and he does so without a word. He swallows visibly and lies down. He fidgets restlessly in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

My head is cocked to one side. Biting my lower lip I study him. He’s an attractive man, but in my line of work clients’ appearances don’t matter. I do not have the luxury to choose my clients.

My hands float unto him. I gently touch him and a tremor runs through him. I am not unaffected. Tingles start in my fingers, run up my arm, and encompass my entire body. This is unexpected.

I run my hands down the length of his arms my fingers entwining with his. I release his hands and travel back up his taut arms, up to his face. I gently explore his face with my fingers as a blind woman might, as if I had never seen it before and never will again. I smooth the damp hair from his temples and see chills chasing down his neck and chest. His muscles flex and release.

I smile to myself, I’m not as bad as I thought and I have yet to begin.

I work tirelessly for an hour. He makes not a sound. I worry that I do not meet his expectations.

I end my service unsure of his experience. I walk out and wait as I’m supposed to. A few minutes later he opens the door and smiles. He reaches into his wallet and puts the money on the edge of the table. This simple gesture tells me he enjoyed my… services.

Yes, my life will never be the same, for I am an esthetician.

© Copyright 2014 Olivia G. Owens. All rights reserved.