Scene4 Magazine — International Magazine of Arts and Media
Scene4 Magazine — Lia Beachy
Lia Beachy
Scene4 Magazine — Alá Ricardo Montalbán
Scene4 Magazine-inView

june 2007

A tasty day
sunshine and salt breeze
my face in your hands
my mouth in your mouth
tell me how it feels
does it linger for hours
for days
I taste you and smell you
anticipating the next kiss
the next touch
the next time
it is never enough
I am never satisfied
I think of you whenever
haunting the soul
of this desperate sad girl

Is this is my worst day?
My body aches, curled up in his stuffy room, lying on a mattress on the floor, and the sun is shining bright, bright, bright. Streams of brilliant yellow heat splinter through the dusty blinds on the window onto the wall, the floor, my skin. My heart yearns. I cry and yet birds chirp and cars drive down the street and neighbors mow their lawns.

I cry for an unknown beauty. I foolishly imagine the outcome of this creation while it flows from my body. I lose myself in this fantasy. It briefly dulls the guilt and the pain. Boy or girl, would this creature be the best of us? Intelligent and compassionate, beautiful and graceful, artistic and adventurous, strong and sensitive, easygoing and funny, honorable and trustworthy and impeccable with her word, would she have been the light that shines too bright? Would purpose and meaning become clear? Would she have taught me about real love? Would she have made me a better person, a lovelier and less selfish woman?

If love or money played a more significant role I might have chosen a different path. If there had been any warmth or fondness for me that didn't come from obligation and sympathy, another destiny could have flourished. If I had been stronger and braver I may have taken on the challenge alone.

I have known the warmth of love. I have felt that womb of safety and completeness cradle me to sleep at night. I have felt the walls of a lover's heart surround me. I know how to love. But I am still outside of this lover. And I am outside of myself. There is no one to blame for that wild night in June. And though he has shown me anything but love, he has been kind.

I am not ready.

It's all medicine now.

The hormones will diminish, the emotions will lose the sharp pointy edges and my life will continue. I am left with the cut, soon to be a scar deep inside my heart. Another secret to further my initiation into adulthood. A moment that is mine and mine alone and not even my lover can share it.

There is no shame in choosing this sadness. I am too tired to look somewhere else. So I will eat half of a turkey sandwich and I will weep and I will sleep and I will use up the roll of toilet paper and he will hold my hands and the hope will show its ugly face soon enough.

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About This Article

©2007 Lia Beachy
©2007 Publication Scene4 Magazine

Lia Beachy is a writer in Los Angeles
For more of her commentary and articles, check the


Scene4 Magazine-International Magazine of Arts and Media

june 2007

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