It wasn’t the 113 days of playing defense, hard, refusing to give details or names or scenes or excuses when he learned she had made choices to learn, to adventure, to be her own person after three decades of tradition that began in her 14th year.

It wasn’t the duck and dodge of his body blocking the doorway or finding there was a GPS tracking system mounted underneath the steering column.

It wasn’t the waking in the middle of the darkest hours of the night to the spray of spit in her face as he startled her from sleep in the divided bed with words laced with whorish insinuations.

It wasn’t the pleading and the begging for her to return to the life they planned, or the implied life-ending opportunity he wished he had the guts to take.

It wasn’t the need to leave on her shoes or keep her coat on her person, complete with keys in the pocket and handbag moving with her throughout the house when she came home to be with the kids and show them she hadn’t abandoned them. It wasn’t her hurried move to the small apartment, with inadequate locks, just nine minutes away.

In the end, it was the choice between two futures.

Come home. I need you, we need you.


You do You. Whether I’m in the picture or not, I only want you to be happy.


She appeared to be on a cliff, leaping, suspended mid-fly, arms outstretched, fingertips brushing the edge of tomorrows. 


For Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web. 2/111/2016. The Chesterfield couch was installed in her library that weekend.



Love on Me


I want to dance in your smile

sing a little ditty that springs into my head

make that upturned right corner of your mouth show itself for me

maybe twirl a time or two,

strip off a bit of this and that

She will never, ever forget that look that came over his face when he was so close…
#for Reticent Mental Property. Image courtesy of the web

Quote Day Night


“In silent slumber echo my form. Pull my bottom and back into the bend of your body.  Drape your arm, protectively over my hip,  cup the heavy of my breast in your hand.  Grace me with your secrets, those sleep-talk whispered confessions lifted into the nape of my neck.  Invade my space,  colour my dreams until our waking hour.

Timeless together we rest our weary and let ourselves exist without a schedule.  My beloved partner in the joining is now marked with my scent on the rough of his beard.  The shaking, resounding reward is my own.  Claim my joy as we recover,  envelop my person, clothe my naked heart with tenderness.” – Ret

#for Reticent Mental Property.  Images from

And if you enjoy this type of photo…visit here for 2013 photography of time-lapsed lovers,  sleeping.