I set out on a narrow way, many years ago
Hoping I would find true love, along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign, pointed straight to you

Every long lost dream lead me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way, into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That lead me straight to you

I think about the years I spent, just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost, and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there you understand
It's all part of a grander plan, that is coming true

Every long lost dream, lead me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way, into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That lead me straight to you

Now I'm just rolling home
Into my lovers arms
This much I know, is true
That God blessed the broken road
That lead me straight to you
That God blessed the broken road
That lead me straight
to you




Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary…ah, Poe. The infinite genius. I wonder how many times he sat, staring out a window, lamenting the days of lost love and youth slowly passing him by. Perhaps it was a night like this that he poured out his heart and soul to his dear Lenore. The stars tempering the loneliness, guiding him through another sleepless night, patiently waiting for morning to come and erase the sadness.

I'm not sentimental, though some would call me a fool. Some call me a fucking bastard as well, but that's not the point. With each passing day, I realize that I am not getting any younger. My days of glory are behind me, my beauty, such as it were, fading fast. My glass is full…my heart is empty. There is a cure for this disease, but I am not yet ready - nor willing - to seek the treatment I crave.

I've made mistakes in my life, but I've regretted only one. And that is the one that haunts me now, sitting in a dark hotel room, staring at the sky, listening to the sounds that only exist in the darkness. I do not delude myself with thoughts of fairy tale romance and happily ever after. I do not dwell on the could have's and should have's, the what might have been's.

Who am I kidding? Myself, obviously. In all my life, there has only been one thing I have ever wanted, needed, craved, desired - and the only thing separating me from it is two closed doors and about 15 feet of hallway. That, and a lifetime of broken hearts and shattered dreams. And fear. Of rejection. Of disappointment. Of happiness.

Yes, I'm afraid of happiness. Afraid that I won't know how to deal with it, live with it, keep it growing and living and breathing. I'm afraid the reality won't live up to the hype. I'm afraid to look into those big green eyes, so trusting, so loving - and seeing myself reflected in a light that I have no right to exist in.

Diamonds may be a girl's best friend, but this bottle of whiskey is mine. The only thing it expects from me is to be poured, savored, swallowed. I do not disappoint. Is the bottle half empty - or am I full of shit? I tend to go with the latter. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I wonder…what in the hell was I thinking? What has possessed me to think that I deserve this lonely fate?

I find myself at the door, hand on the knob, waiting to open it…and I stop. What logical reason do I have for doing this? Not a damn one. Everything in my brain has passed to the illogical now and I realize that I am not doing this of my own free will. I'm fueled by my good buddy Jack, spurred on by the warm fuzzies in my stomach and groin, all of which have totally obliterated my common sense.

The door is open now. The light in the hallway is dim, but apparently I know where I'm going even without it. I pass one doorway and stop briefly, listening to the soft laughter from within. Someone - or a couple of someones - apparently are not having a debate with themselves over the disadvantages of love. I shake my head and make my way to the next door…

And stop dead in my tracks. What am I doing here? What am I going to say? I try to go over it in my head. I could say I'm sorry, apologize for all the times I've caused pain and anger and sorrow. I could explain why I left, why I never came back or called or even acknowledged his presence outside of work. I could make up a million excuses that would explain my behavior. Or, I could just say what I really wanted to say…

The door opens without me even realizing I had knocked. His hair is pulled back, a rainbow floating behind his head. There are still flecks of paint stuck to the side of his face. His shorts ride low on his hips, the small dents of the bone clear, reminding me of the bruises I used to leave there. His chest is bare, a soft tangle of hair begging to me raked over by my fingers.

His face is scruffy, the neatly shaved pattern threatening to disappear. His lips are shy, wet from either drink or his favorite cherry flavored lip balm. I want to taste him, to find out which one it is. Then I see his eyes. Quizzical. Confused. Afraid. Longing. For once, words have escaped me and I stand, staring at him for a moment. I start to turn, to leave, to go back to my little hole and hide away again.

His hand is on my arm, as if he read my mind. His touch, so different now than it was in the ring earlier, burns through to my very soul. The corners of his lips tug upward slightly and the melodic drawl of his voice reaches my ears. So plain, so simple. Just one word - "hi." I look into his eyes and think of a thousand things to say, but none of them reach my lips.

"Don't go," he says softly and in that split second, my common sense is overridden by something more powerful, more intense than anything I have ever known. He pulls me into the room and I follow. He closes the door and I stand there, looking around the explosion that is his room. I turn, looking into his eyes as he takes a step toward me. Then another. And another.

And then, he's right there, not even a foot away. His hand touches my cheek and I turn into the caress. The distance between us grows smaller as his lips descend upon mine and he's right there, arms tangling, lips touching, bodies melding together as if nothing had ever happened. There are so many things I want to say, but his kisses are stealing the words right from my mouth.

Later - three minutes, ten, an hour - he pulls back and looks at me. I open my mouth to speak and he puts his fingers across my lips, silencing me. "It ain't important, Scotty,' he says softly. I start to argue that it is, that I have to tell him, but his eyes tell me he already knows. His hands move under my shirt, pushing it off my shoulders. His lips - covered in the cherry balm - cover my chest with kisses.

He moves lower, trailing his tongue over sensitive flesh, dropping to his knees to worship me like some sort of god. His mouth continues its sinful dance over my groin and I finally give up the battle and give in to the lust. This angel before me is threatening to take me to heaven with him - and I'm more than willing to follow on his gossamer wings.

When I can take no more, I pull him up, embracing him as if he was my last hold on reality. He leads me to the bed and I follow, willingly. This time, when I love him, it's with everything I have. My body. My mind. My very soul. I see the smile on his face, the joy in his eyes as I give myself to him. He doesn't ask for anything I'm not able to give.

When it's over, when he has taken me to heaven and back, he doesn't cry out. He just looks deep into my eyes and says the one thing I've longed to hear for all eternity. "I forgive ya," he whispers. "I love ya." And with that declaration, I come undone. His thumb wipes away tears I didn't know I had shed. His hand rests on my heart and feels the beating that is for him alone.

He gets up and disappears into the bathroom, coming back with a wet cloth and a glass of water. He carefully cleans up the evidence of our night together, as I sip the cool liquid. He climbs back into bed, laying his head on my shoulder, the crook of my arm resting gently against his shoulders. Green eyes search mine before he speaks again. "Don't ever leave me like that again, Scotty," he says softly, his voice thick with sleep and satisfaction.

We wrap ourselves around each other and I smile, kissing his forehead. "I won't, Jeffrey," I whisper against his cheek. "Promise?" I have to smile at that one. He's never asked me for anything before and now, after everything we've been through, I can't deny him his one wish. "Promise," I say, and for once I mean it. Looking over at the nightstand, I realize how one moment, one split-second can change our lives forever. My glass is now empty…and my heart is full.