tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-153367922015-07-27T22:46:25.265-07:00Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-1140987185234666432015-07-26T12:38:00.000-07:002015-07-27T22:46:25.489-07:00

Sunday Morning Daydream Laying in bed with my Babe, drinking coffee, the Los Angeles Times spread throughout the bed... looking thru the travel section, talking about all of the places we want to explore. Listening to Stevie Wonder, the windows open, the slight breeze drifting into the room. Breakfast in bed. French toast, bacon, powdered sugar on the sheets, honey making my fingers sticky

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-1147899514513483732015-07-23T09:45:00.000-07:002015-07-24T11:00:56.807-07:00

Tell me your secrets, words I will place in a jeweled box and lock away in the deepest depths of my heart. Tell me you need me, whisper the words into the night from deep within a dream. Let the words caress me and be my lullaby. Tell me I am your addiction, the taste of my kiss your weakness, the curves of my body the map leading you to loves obsession. Tell me I am your beginning. Tell me

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-1155189775331597072015-07-22T00:00:00.000-07:002015-07-24T11:04:41.389-07:00

I want to eat something delicious. Like ice cold cherries or decadent milk chocolate made in a candy shop in Luxemburg. I want to listen to a piece of music that will bring me to tears, like Adagio for Strings did the first time I heard it....making me close my eyes and for just a moment feel completely lost and know that these must be the sounds of heaven. I want to laugh, harder than I've

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-1123805694399350202015-07-21T23:19:00.000-07:002015-07-21T23:19:08.331-07:00

I’ve searched for you for so long. I’ve looked in dark, secret places. I’ve looked in hearts that have left me tattered and torn. I’ve wavered and fallen but my belief in you continues to be strong. But I’ve grown tired, and need you to find me now. Look for me on the other side of the moon. Look for me in the deepest depths of the ocean. Look for me dancing among the stars in the Milky Way

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-26433600168863183882015-07-20T03:32:00.000-07:002015-07-20T15:35:56.941-07:00

Rain falls hard as he lays me down. I am suspended in air, lost in a place no one has ever taken me before. In this moment of fire there is no past. There is only the sounds of my breathing, my heart beating against his. His body is as beautiful as a sculpture of an inked Greek God, such elegant symmetry of form. My fingertips painting pictures across his stomach and the sharp line above his

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-34865705447265880672015-07-18T11:30:00.000-07:002015-07-18T21:26:29.218-07:00

The house is quiet today. The windows are open, the curtains blowing in the breeze, music softly playing as I walk the halls and touch the frames of the pictures hanging on the walls. I am longing for something that isn't here.  I stand with my back against the cold wall and close my eyes and I hear laughter, I smell the intoxicating scent of a man's skin, I hear my name being whispered

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-1135211456744051512015-07-16T08:30:00.000-07:002015-07-18T21:27:12.266-07:00

He stands with his arms wrapped around me on Infinity Point in Ravello, overlooking the waters of the Amalfi coast. I take his hand and we walk thru the ancient ruins of the arch of Septimius Severus in the Roman Forum. We laugh as we travel the country roads of Umbria in search of the regions best Chianti and Brunello. We run down the lush hillsides that carry the strongly perfumed mix of

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-85470637496235440142015-07-13T01:43:00.000-07:002015-07-13T20:42:30.466-07:00

We lie sideways under the sheltering sheet. I have wedged myself against the back of you, my arm wrapped around your side, my hand on your chest. Your hand covers mine. We talk in touches now. We listen to each other's fingertips. -david meuel I'm not sure how it happened. How life, muted, unremarkable in hue suddenly became a kaleidoscope of  brilliant colors. Lost

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-1133748541268724952015-07-01T00:45:00.000-07:002015-07-13T19:01:28.919-07:00

I wonder if he knows that he's brought light into my life....a light that was completely unexpected. I wonder if he knows that I've shared parts of my life with him that I hadn't shared with others. I wonder if he knows that there have been many times in the recent weeks that I felt I was about to break and he's made me laugh and helped me to forget my troubles. I wonder if he knows that I

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-47572770394112409112015-06-29T00:49:00.000-07:002015-07-11T16:16:27.654-07:00

As the clock strikes midnight I walk out into the warm night and look up at the star-filled sky. I stand still, looking for the brightest twinkling star knowing the first wish made is the one that is most important, the wish I most desire to come true. I stare in amazement as I see a shooting star across the midnight sky and am in awe at the night sky's celestial dance. I feel my heart fill

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-51185093763635245052015-03-26T23:14:00.000-07:002015-04-01T22:29:46.504-07:00

Walk with me, hand in hand, down the narrow winding cobblestone streets of a Moorish Spanish hilltop town squeezed between the sierras and the sea.  Let's get lost exploring the brilliant white and ancient labyrinthine alleyways, wandering past iron-grilled windows and balconies and Baroque church domes. Kiss me against dark oak barrels in a sherry bodega, the taste of fino on our lips, the

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-7109866538548331722015-03-17T20:28:00.000-07:002015-07-24T11:12:10.859-07:00

Maybe it has been the brilliant meteor showers this past week, the wishes made on the shootings stars streaking across the desert sky or perhaps the acceptance that some aspects of my life are not ready for change that have brought a certain blissful peace over me. Whatever the reason for this sense of calm, I welcome it. The recent thunderstorm of emotions had left me weary, tired, confused.

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-7468614970954408142015-03-17T14:35:00.000-07:002015-04-01T22:31:04.485-07:00

A Daydream  Driving home in evening rush hour, heart beating quickly, my body aching for the quiet only found in his arms. I walk through the house removing layers of clothing, layers of the day and of myself, every step is taking me towards the bedroom where he sleeps. I climb into bed, gently, so not to wake him. I need to lay next to him, feel his skin against mine and lay my head

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-15540637750841882412015-01-07T00:00:00.000-08:002015-04-01T22:33:21.777-07:00

Beautiful winter Monday spent enjoying the beauty of the day. Now, pumpkin bread bakes in the oven filling the house with the smell of vanilla and spice. Firepit lit brightly, sounds of wood crackling. Soothing. Laying on the couch unwinding, thinking... I write. I wait. With the passing of time have come beginnings and endings. Memories that make me smile and some that bring tears to my

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-1143016784111611782015-01-02T00:43:00.000-08:002015-04-01T23:12:26.963-07:00

Feeling nostalgic tonight. A whirlwind of somber memories of days past circling my mind. Are you happy?Questions blown away by the thousand windmills I've put up to keep you away. Feeling lonely tonight. Finding myself so far away from Home. Home not being just the place with walls and a roof. Home is where the heart is I've heard. Home is wherever he is, I say. Home, is where my heart is.

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-51427462160800199312014-11-11T22:09:00.000-08:002015-07-24T11:10:10.367-07:00

The room is dark, the only light is the soft glow of the waxed crescent moon lightly shining thru the window and the only noise is the buzz of the fan above me. I open my laptop, the soft beat of a favorite song begins to play and after almost a year's hiatus, I write again. Always begin where you are. I read that somewhere a few years ago and it stuck with me. When I sat down to write

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-1123808409651233972014-11-11T20:59:00.000-08:002015-07-09T22:01:57.272-07:00

I want to learn how to Tango or dance Flamenco. I want to play piano again or learn how to play the violin. I want to ride a gondola in Venice. I want to climb to the top of an Aztec pyramid. I want to make love behind a cascading waterfall. I want to pray at the altar at the Cathedrale de Notre-Dame. I want to learn how to speak all of the romantic languages, fluently. I want to walk the

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-41224787013163520242014-10-15T00:00:00.000-07:002015-04-01T22:34:33.279-07:00

Wake up to the smell of wood burning in the fireplace, hot cup of coffee with a small piece of banana nut bread bought at the farmers market before I walk out the door to face the day. Take a deep breath of crisp air. Walk to the car. So much to do today. Look at the sky, winter blue, look at the leaves, a kaleidoscope of amber. I go on about my day, I go on about my life. Everything has

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-85983694770192104722014-09-16T19:51:00.000-07:002015-04-01T22:42:39.981-07:00

Today I want to go home. Only I don't know where home is anymore. Today I am sad and hate myself for that weakness. Sadness is a lonely place to be. Today my heart is heavy and I'm tired. Today I look at the sky and watch the planes fly by and wish I was flying away. Far away from this life I live, from these people who walk all over me, from the ones who throw me out like trash over and over

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-1123808063277778532014-09-08T02:17:00.000-07:002015-04-01T22:38:39.958-07:00

I miss being touched. I miss having a man put his hands on me and caress me. I miss the feel of a soft caress along my arm, or across my collarbone. I miss the simple things....like feeling the warmth of a man's body as he stands behind me and lifts my long hair and kisses, gently, the back of my neck. It's when you're alone, and think back to the touches and caresses and kisses that were

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-1125439388620645262014-08-20T15:44:00.000-07:002015-04-01T23:19:16.363-07:00

I bought a book last night. Love in the Time of Cholera, as suggested by a friend. I stayed up for most of the night reading, unable to put it down until my eyes burned and I could no longer fight off sleep. It is lush, beautiful and poetic. It makes me wish I had been born in the era where men in love serenaded women under their balconies. A story about unending love. I am a bit out of

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-88199270807670250562014-04-29T23:22:00.000-07:002015-04-01T23:24:31.572-07:00

Driving at dusk. Windows down. Music playing. Happy. Suddenly, unexpectedly, a song starts to play loudly. Our song. I thought I'd locked him up somewhere where he could not get to me anymore but in an instant I feel him around me as if he had never been gone. That ache that lingers somewhere deep inside comes to the surface and I have to fight back the tears. I will not cry. I will not. I had

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-51637223568961587832014-02-24T04:54:00.000-08:002015-04-01T22:38:53.725-07:00

  You've stolen the sleep from my eyes, the peace from my soul and I hate you for it. I hate you with as much passion as I loved you. I loved you with as much passion as I hate you. How easy it's always been for you to love me with such ferocity then just as easily forget. You are a capricious child. Fickle at heart. Cold. How easy for you to replace me. To find substitutes to stroke

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-91899189774782847122014-02-23T02:00:00.000-08:002015-07-09T22:02:53.880-07:00

I wish I was floating on an azure sea, weightless. The tranquil waters soothing the thunderstorm inside of me. I wish someone would hold my hand, no words spoken, strength through touch. I wish I didn't know what I know. Amnesiac. Words forgotten cannot hurt. I wish I was the woman I used to be. I am nothing, to no one. I wish I wasn't so alone, in an empty house, in a crowded room. I wish I

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336792.post-1127018482331313672013-05-08T19:23:00.000-07:002015-04-01T22:40:01.264-07:00

There are people that come into your life and tattoo their name on your heart. The scar they leave behind becomes a part of you, forever. Even after they let go of your hand, and you watch them walk away, you know they will remain a part of you. They may fade out, having decided they don't need you anymore, then, silently, just as if time nor distance ever came between you, they fade back

Monique Riellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04655753465124284403noreply@blogger.com3