No one knew I was here. The elevator brought me to the 19th floor. My penchant for the number 9 told me this would be somewhat magical, lucky at least.

"Right this way ma'am," he motioned with his white linen sleeved arm.

I turned the industrial-style latch and opened the door to light, flooding light, as in a cliche from a dark hallway.

I listened to the elegant sound of my heels on the concrete- the sound felt elegant now as I made my way towards the window, which was the entire length of the place. At this height, who needed privacy? Perhaps from Spiderman? But he probably couldn't afford these prices.

"This is new construction and we are still in the process of finishing the kitchen in this one so please excuse the slight disarray," who would care, I thought. Who could notice the dusty footprint with the entire city sprawled out in front of me, like a time line, in a three quarter view ending on the water.

I would have this one day. No one knew I was here. Not even my man.

I stalled, asked questions I half knew the answers to, anything to buy myself more time in this high-rise paradise so that I could begin to see the hot ball Miami sun stain the edges of metal sky scrapers Blood Orange, watch the sky turn Pink, picture myself in my clear Louis Ghost chair, wearing nothing but my Pink Glitter Louboutins, waving hello to Spidy as he started his evening shift. But of course, this was in my head. And no one knew I really lived here.

Half Hearted Disagreement

"You have to be okay on your own, I know I am," he said, taking another bite of his maple soaked stack of pancakes, chewing as if the conversation was over.

"Yeah, but...I'm not so sure people are 'okay' alone. I mean, perhaps 'okay' is all they are, perhaps nothing higher than that."

"No, in order to be good in a relationship, you need to be completely and utterly okay with being alone. You have to be totally happy alone."

"Yeah, but I'm not happy when I'm alone. I don't think I want to be. I think I'm my best self as part of a couple."

"That's ridiculous!" he lowered his eyes into his coffee cup as he took a huge gulp, "You have to be complete on your own to be complete in a relationship."

"Do you?" she asked, truly wondering.

"Yes."

Perhaps he was right, but she always had a sinking suspicion that hearts were really the shape of only half a heart and it took two to make a heart complete.

How We Fall In Love...

"Are your eyes honey or amber colored?"

"What?"

"Your eyes. Would you say they're more honey or amber? They're not brown, you know."

Interesting...I've always known that, but no other guy had ever noticed, or taken the time to really look past the brown. The Amber of my eyes and skin which almost was my name. They're actually Cherry Umber with sparks of Green at the iris, eyes which darken with emotion to Rich Chocolate. Never thought his large, large blue eyes would see that much.

This wasn't in the plan. Why did this seem the only detail that now mattered? I started shutting the eyes of my past. He was right and he was now. Perhaps Mr. Right Now for now?

Actually, they weren't truly blue; they were Ice Green with Clouds of Grey that shone like Miami waters right after the sunset when the Neon Blush of the pre-dusk sky makes the sea glow Smoky Luminous Turquoise.

I mean, they're blue.

Love Out Loud

My HEART has the mic. It speaks freely. I am a woman. I will never be a victim of the unsaid, the unexpressed, the unsettled. You will know your place in my world and my graciousness for your presence. You will know exactly how you've touched my day, my week, my life.

I love you.

Out Loud.

From my heart and its mic.

Beating loudly, Beating pure

Yours Truly

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," he said.

"Hurt?" I thought, but actually said aloud. What part of this story felt vulnerable? I felt pretty good about my mastery of the situation. I felt I had it under control.

"I mean, you're fragile..." his words stopped me dead in my trains of thought.

"Fragile...Fragile?" Very quickly I also thought/said as if rolling the word in my hand like a ball, exploring its density and coolness.

"I'm not fragile," I defended.

"Yes...you are. I see it in your eyes."

And just like that he had me. He saw me, much younger, much more innocent. And I was forced to see me too.

A girl feels fragile and perfect and pretty when she first discovers love; love hidden under the slate grey rocks of adolescence- love that flares out- a burst of light into dark space.

A girl is a delicate bone china teacup, a tasse of fine-fired glass until the first break. She is never the same. The handle needs to be re-glued (and to necessitate the mar of glue at all!), it doesn't exactly sit the way it did before in the saucer, somehow it seems a little more accident prone. So she builds and thickens. Perhaps becoming a mug. Perhaps a thick and plated stein. She must protect herself from more breakage so she one day discovers she is made of platinum. Safe, Strong, Secure...but no longer fragile.

After much thought, much silence, many watercolored memories flushing out the words,

"I don't remember the last time I felt fragile..."

And like Bella after Edward, I was never the same. I knew my task at once, my optimistic regression to become that fragile, that pure, once again.

To replace platinum with porcelain. And to sit on a saucer that will hold me tight against the threat of shattering.

The Morning "Do"

Aqua Sequin Gown...check, Peacock Black and White Diamond Headpiece...check, Faux Ermine Stole (I have a white cat you know)...check. All is set to go. Driver, take me there, as I ascend the carriage, royally sparkling. Along the not-long drive, I watch the coral roses, which were strewn, vanish. My songbird, Mario, chirps tunefully and the appointed jester, Steve Harvey, tells jokes which make me smile. Torches of red fire are held to my cart and my driver halts. We wait, speak of the weather, the verdant starry sky. Torches of green fire send us forward, sky rushing past. I have arrived in luxury. A queen gets dropped off at work. Nothing is more befitting.

Hello Loves!

Somtimes, you just have to sit on the table, look around at your place, and take it all in...Perhaps wearing a rainbow spray of beads. Do you shine brightly in your surroundings? If someone were to break in, would they know it was your home?
"Jackpot, Raina's apartment...fabulous!" stated the cat-burglar, last seen running down the streets of Miami in multi-glitter 4 inch hidden platform pumps and champagne pearls.