Just Ice

Love is a simple thing, like a knife, or fire. It can bleed you to death or burn you Into oblivion, but it's beautiful when it's just right.

So it is with you and me; painful, loud, glaring, harsh; yet beautiful. I try to conjure up my most strained sense of menace when we're around others. I want to protect you, and it's all too obvious how bad of a case of you I have.

We spend our days rushing about, too busy to think straight much of the time. When you run a good quarter of one of the world's largest companies, it's amazing that I know a cup of coffee from my left hand. But every little moment is just to be with you, around you, to see you smile in the morning.

I bought you this building; gray wall and glass, so that we could be closer. You said it made you feel "kept"; you hated it, how modern it was. Then you dumped thousands of dollars into your own cold, marble-walled place. It's as though you won't take anything from me, won't let me care for you.

Blondes are my curse; loving them, keeping them around, buying them new shoes and allowing some of the "McMahon Prestige" to rub off on their souls. But you're different, Trish, I can make you understand that.

Only if you're here. But you're not.

Instead of holding you, I'm here alone in OUR damned ash-colored building, holding a Persian kitten in my lap. Everything is as you wanted it, and where are you?

Off in Beverly Hills. "Exploring yourself".

Why should I take this any longer? I'm becoming more and more sure that I can't. But a good wall of ice has been built up around my heart, and you're the only woman allowed access to it. I can't help but give you chance after chance. Because you're part of me.

So I'll wait here, where I thought you would be your happiest, for you to come home. Then I'll be at my happiest.

Pathetic? Maybe. But I love you. That's just the way it is.



The End