Women Always Put Men First. That's How

Poppies Bleed Petals Of Sheer Excess. You And I, This Sweet Battle Ground.

I Wanted To Hear What She Was Saying. I Wanted To Smell That Burnt Midnight Again, I Wanted To Feel That Wind. It Was A Secret Wanting, Like A Song I Couldn't Stop Humming, Or Loving Someone I Could Never Have. No Matter Where I Went, My Compass Pointed West. I Would Always Know What Time It Was In California.

She Was Sitting Cross-legged On Her Bed In Her White Kimono, Writing In A Notebook With An Ink Pen She Dipped In A Bottle. 'never Let A Man Stay The Night,' She Told Me. 'dawn Has A Way Of Casting A Pall On Any Night Magic.' The Night Magic Sounded Lovely. Someday I Would Have Lovers And Write A Poem After.

That Kind Of Tenderness Couldn't Be Permitted To Last. You Only Got A Taste, Enough To Know What Perfection Meant, And Then You Paid For It The Rest Of Your Life. Like The Guy Chained To A Rock, Who Stole Fire. The Gods Made An Eagle Eat His Liver For All Eternity. You Paid For Every Second Of Beauty You Managed To Steal.

What Is A Scene? A) A Scene Starts And Ends In One Place At One Time (the Aristotelian Unities Of Time And Place-this Stuff Goes Waaaayyyy Back). B) A Scene Starts In One Place Emotionally And Ends In Another Place Emotionally. Starts Angry, Ends Embarrassed. Starts Lovestruck, Ends Disgusted. C) Something Happens In A Scene, Whereby The Character Cannot Go Back To The Way Things Were Before. Make Sure To Finish A Scene Before You Go On To The Next. Make Something Happen.