I met her at a bar.  The beauty she possessed was engaging almost as if to physically pull you in.  I watched her spin around to look at me as her long, brown locks spun around to caress the opposing side of her face.  She smiled naturally, but you could tell she was a broken girl jaded by empty promises and lifeless hope.

Assuming alcohol would help her obvious hidden pain, I bought her a green beverage that reflected her eyes.  Most would have asked her name first, but I am a woman of impulsion.  Almost like an emotionally deprived child, some would say.  After a few sips in silence, my Vodka polished lips had the courage to ask her her name.  Mariella.  Her four syllable name her Mother gave her couldn't compete with the beauty God had given her.

An hour went by and she had already then impressed me with her witty, sexual banter and opinionated tongue of reason in which women my age appear to be deprived of these days.  As my bar tab aimed higher, her sobriety did not.  Mariella kissed me on my cheek with her scarlet lips and I must have been more anhebriated than I thought because I did not feel it.  She smiled at me and kept going off on rants about ex boyfriends who did nothing but stick their manhood in everyone but her.  All she wanted was to expose her love to someone that could conquer it.  Me, perhaps.

Allowing her to babble on for another five minutes, I then spoke her name for the first time.  She stopped talking and locked eyes with me almost as if she was pledged to my voice.  My hand began to think for itself and landed on top of hers...But it did not look like my hand.  I began to speak but could not make out my own words.  Suddenly, my mind came to an epiphany.  My body was not where it was five seconds ago and my face was a manifestation of disarray.

My eyes opened and I was alone at the bar.  And I realized that my imagination was just as impulsive as the desperate personality God cursed me with.  And as I continued to fuel my imagination with Vodka, I watched the woman I wanted walk out with the man I was pretending to be.

Violetta Alexis

Copyright 2009