All Comments on 'Lonely Is The Night'

Well, loved it isn't exactly correct. It touched me. I still haven't really gotten past something like that despite the passage of 3 years. I think one goes on because finally, there really isn't anything else that one can do. But I think I will always hurt in that place in my heart.

A story need not have a lot of sex in it to be erotic or passionate, which your story was.

Thank you for a truly honest story. It was erotic because it came from the heart. Not every tale needs to contain graphic sex to be arousing

Thanks again

So touching, so sincere.

You promise more sex in your next. OK,if that's what you want to do, but this is just fine as it is - measured and, in its way - romantic. As someone earlier said, blatant sex isn't necessary to make something erotic; in fact, it often has the opposite effect - subtlety is the key to any story-telling, in my humble opinion.

The one you love is gone,moved on and you are still living in love with yesterday,and you cannotmove on into tommorrow. you have all the memories and all the emptiness of a love thats gone.

After reading that there would be very little sex in this story, I nearly clicked away in disgust. But I'm so glad I didn't. I would have missed out on one of the most thoughtful, well-written pieces I've ever read.

That was a lovely piece.

Not necessary erotica, thought the sotry up in the mountains was eroitc, it was still moving, about the loss of some one close.

M

We all love you, honey.

My mom is gone too, and I still keep her close to me. I drive by where she used to live and remember only the good times of course. With each passing year she becomes more and more saint like I guess. My sister expressed surprise that I wasnt repulsed by living in the same town and almost on the same street as she did in her final years. To me, you can visit the past by visiting the place. And in that visit, the past becomes alive again, and its comforting to have Mom with me, smiling at me, laughing at me, being proud of my most recent humble accomplishments...and loving me still.

I do the same thing sometimes when im in Anaheim. Thats where I fell in love with Cindy in 1982... and every street, every building, the very sunshine is the same as it was then, and driving those streets, inhaling the air there, i can see the ghosts of two cute teenagers, so deeply in love that they didnt have to even talk to communicate. To me, shes always there, waiting for me to drive up, and get out and walk up to her door, and knock on it, and come in and sit on the couch and gently embrace and kiss for hours, while the Doors played over and over on her mom's stereo. She'll always be there, young, sweet and in love, looking up at me saying "You're everything I've always ever wanted, all rolled up into one."

I'm 43 now, and she's 40 and I havent seen her in 20 years. But I think of her, and that time, and that place, and me. And the memories are so real that I feel that THATS what is real and the rest of my life since then has been some alternate reality and isnt truly reality.

Sometimes, I dig up a small box in which i keep certain momentos of my life, and at the bottom of it is a light blue bandanna, rolled tightly and tied at the ends in a tiny knot which was tied by Cindy in 1982 shortly before she gave it to me, as what I took to be a symbol of her virginity. I remember in the months after she broke up with me inhaling it and smelling her fading scent in that bandanna. Below that is the scrap of paper that i wrote her phone number and name down with a shaking hand. Below that, in a clear plastic case, for safe keeping, is a photograph of her. In 1982 Cindy was out with her girlfriends at the mall and they decided to sit in one of those photograph booths. She is remarkably beautiful, tall, thin, pale skin, thick chestnut hair, thoughtful blue eyes a tiny nose and the sweetest lips. She handed the tiny square of paper to me and said "I was thinking of you when I took it." Its a beautiful expression. Deep, sincere, with a faint smile. I look at it from time to time, and talk to it through my tears and say "I love you Cindy. I'll love you forever."

Then I toughen up again, put it away and go on with my life.

I recall the death of a favorite musician of mine, where a fellow musician was asked what the guy's legacy would be. His answer was, "His legacy? The truth hurts." That's how I feel about this story -- it just has the texture of reality. That guy was a great musician ... and this is a great story. No need for more sex, no need for more anything. It just is what it is.

Like the Doors lyric say, you make it real. Thank you for sharing such an intensely personal experience. You have a fine way with words and mix little details with emotions and give us readers a glimpse into a world that is fascinating to see. I am looking forward to settling in and catching up on the rest of your writings.

I want to read more please

Captivating like sobering hug....

Kudos..,,,,Jaxx