This Is War

they asked for it and it is imminent. From the first stone throw out of the misunderstanding of ignorance to the final button pushed on a panel of expert missiles, war has been waged.

A battle of the sexes was brewing long before coffee in the tropics. Man begat war after war all in the name of some female he wanted to possess or promise not rendered good upon. I have waged my own private war on man. I have no equal in my travels to draw my attention and have been left with the weakest of drink and the lightest of dinner. I have been left with man. And he is not alone, his other half feels my mirth too for all the unhappiness I bring to them for the inferior love I get in return. I love with my whole heart and soul. I give everything, too much really, and am left with nothing left but sadness and mirth. I have been accused of being sad as of late. By several men at that who find me irresistible in a broken state but still reproachable for the sadness I bear and produce.

I have been a sinister sister indeed and really have no problem other than the fact that my loins ache for the love of a master who will by day rule and reign over me and by nightfall yield to a mastress who will govern with pride. This sinister side keeps me from liking and finding one with an acceptable amount of guild for me to look upon. It is a quest that has took me on a four-decade journey looking for a him who is worthy. When I come close some door is always slung shut and tightly on my foot and my heart. It is dangled farther back than a brass ring of achievement and seems to be my one true failing in life, love. But I don't give up. Amazingly.

And I claw upon the ground and trace outlines of my game plan and even leak secrets of the battle to the other side in the hopes it throws them off their game. I have found a many "someones" and wonder about the latest in a long list as to whether this will be my shining moment to persevere. Is this the day I will finally find what I am looking for and give all I have without worry or continual scarring of what is left of where a heart should have been. I adorn my armor and my weapons and clamor to the top of the hill only to look down into the most beautiful, serious face I have ever seen. Green eyes and darkest soft curls framing a full masculine face dotted with stubble and a traditional, to his breed, beard-burns combination, sans mustache. He is tall, of course that is no great feat when one is five feet four to begin with, and broad of shoulder and looks as though he himself had lifted the moon and the sun at their respective times each day for all to admire. I am speechless and melt and doubt I will be worthy of the battle. I am not even sure I want to fight so much as curl up naked with him in his tent and promise him my services until the end of time, I think I may have at some point but cannot make out the inaudible sounds coming from my bellows.

I am going to lose. Big time. I think I may have already lost the last little piece of steaming red bloodied meat that was supposed to grow me a new heart. I talk so foolishly and gush over my words as if they fell out of the mouth of a child too young to understand the emotion. But my body responds to him and has already mutinied my efforts to overtake him. He will cast me aside or capture me and either way I have no more choice and I can wield the largest of blades but would not for fear of marring such an elegant creature that I would rather bed. He knows my attraction to his maleness and he himself suffers a disease of sorts and is drawn and betrayed time and again by his phallus at the mere mention of my name and the things that it entails. How is it two people can be so scared and so drawn at the same time that our own bodies would jump ship and flee to the other side? How is it that I no longer hold a heart in my hand as an offer or gesture, that it can be snatched so easily and in plain sight? No, friends, there will be no cure for this...this thing that has softened your mobe and made her aware of her scent again and of her face and her smile. There will be no cure if even he denies what his legs and arms and lips and eyes tell him is so and he casts her away. She that was a fearsome ruler some minutes ago is lost forever in lace and caresses and will not stop until she has ventured into the enemy's encampment and stared it in the face with her sword to his throat and makes him say the truth or perish forever on her blade...

...that he loves her. Only her and that he too was lost and searching for so long and that he would rather die than let anything ever keep them apart..could this be real? Could mobe's judgment be blind? There will be an end to this...soon for it is killing her slowly...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.