'Sweet Flower, use your magic rose, bring me into your power. Show me where the wind blows.'� he once said. The wind blew us apart, stopped me to bloom. From morning till evening, my dark bedroom a retreat of sorrow, a place to be alone, so no one may see my misery and that I may take a little comfort while I pet my fears with indignation, pamper my pain.

Grey the morning; bitter the taste of squashed dreams, dragging at the corners of my mouth. In the anguish of my broken spirit, I cursed their faces. They set me as a worthless target for their untamed desire, how could I pardon their transgression? My days spent without hope, cocooned in a black cloud. God why is it that I have to endure this again? Why'�. and when did it happen?

Why did I find the poem he wrote her, why did he not burn it and banish it to hell?

YOU.
Fire in your eyes,
Passion in disguise,
where have you been?
You crippled me,
I can not feel,
nor could I see.
My passion ' Gone,
I don't know.
The truth is - You, I waited for.
But something is black, maybe guilt.
Millions of miles apart, my thoughts.

We had fun,
But fun doesn't make the world go around.
You perfect in your sense.
You know all the tricks.
That was more than I hoped for,
more than I wanted.
How could wisdom be poisoned?
Power you find attractive.
You speak of anger like it is your best friend.
Then you wonder,
Why the pain?

I made mistakes,
but none were fake.
Your eyes lie,
what do you hide?
Nothing seems to be wrong,
You say you are strong.
But what about'�
One day?
When you turn gray.
You play on emotions.
You play with fire.
You play with others devotions.
You play too hard.

I like you, I know.
The attractive light of danger,
but that road leads nowhere,
so I have to let you go.
You, sweet innocent look,
danger lurking under your hood.
You could destroy easily.
But it will kill you too.

This time I won't be able to help,
darkness is on my trail.
And if I try, I would surely die.
At this point I'm scared of dark shadows,
creeping from behind, unheard.
Cold fingers grip my heart,
squeeze little drops of life,
luck and love, passionately hard.
Drowning me in confusion,
but make me see the only road.

He said his emotions drove him to a point he did not want to be. In a moment of madness, he give up on everything, obsessed with one thing, a sense of 'nothing else never again'.

Damage done, everything gone. Nothing made sense anymore. His words, not mine.

Monique, close my eyes '�'�..Monique. She is on my mind, she is everywhere. Is that the way he feels too? It would help to understand, but even he doesn't understand all ' or so he says. He tried to explain. 'Seven sins took me by the hand, made me part of their evil plan, I tried to break the spell, it was driving me to hell. There was nothing inside my mind, it felt like I was drowning, stuck in a hole. I felt there must be more to be found, like there is more in the sky, hiding away, very shy.'�

Black Magic is an easy trick. She caught him in her net, a sexual nymph with angel dust, luring him into a magical realm of wild fantasy. She knew all the tricks in the book. He fell for her in a dark place, looking deep into her soul before that first, long, dizzying kiss as the moon was hiding. Her heavy-lidded gaze, ravishing and mysterious, released violent, vivid pictures of the most erotic pleasure in his racing mind.

Fully aware of the effect on him she enjoyed it. She teased him with her promise of ecstasy and euphoria, her taste lingered on his lips, left him thirsty for yet another encounter.
Regardless of the reasons why he did it, the facts are, he wanted her. He insisted on having her. Madonna face, she wasn't what you'd call a catwalk beauty, but she certainly had attributes with merit, capable of driving feeble men into paroxysms of lust. Petite and shapely, using her wiles and charms, she did not appear trashy. A priced reward, she was in hot pursuit.

He was mine! He healed something that was broken in me. Why then! My face flushed from weeping, I was tired, yet I couldn't sleep. Haunting thoughts, all consuming, dragged me around, took me back seven years in time, when things were the same.

A young girl entered my room hesitantly one morning and ended my cynical thoughts, but not the headache pounding on the right side of my temple. Not in the least curious, I watched her come closer to the side of my sorrow bed. It had been days since she first got there, picked up and dragged with by my worthless brother-in-law who befriended her at the pub where we celebrated sin and I only remember drinking beer and puking.

It took guts, coming up to me like that, I thought. I was consistently unapproachable, she deserved a little credit.
Tendrils of long black hair framed a pretty face, her green eyes avoided mine. Subdued and well mannered, she had an innocent quality, true representation of virginity, yet I was very sure, even at the tender age of 14, maybe 15, she wasn't one.

She took a deep breath; I watched her lips and the tiny space between two front teeth, as she quietly spoke. She knows I don't want to talk to anyone, but she will just sit there and say nothing - if that is what I want. Just then, she touched my heart - changed my world. She made me endless cups of tea, hung on to every word I said, went everywhere I did.

Every day she would reveal more of herself. Red and skew the little heart tattoo on her upper right arm, a true symbol of her longing and her lack. Mistreated, she was driven from home, a girl deprived of her rightful place in her mother's home. Abuse and neglect are shameful acts that does incredible harm, the effects can last a lifetime.

Everything felt so very perfect. We simply bonded. She saved me from a situation that was destroying me as a woman. I needed her as much as she needed a home, a mother and care. In the middle of tremendous hurt feelings - she stood by me. As the last seconds of the so-called marriage cup drained and I thought I'd die a thousand deaths whilst I fare-welled my false love and his mistress, she was quietly there.

When destruction left me, finally ' completely, her dedication gave me reason, and the power, to fight another day. In the back of my mind I pictured happiness.

In French her name means 'Wise'� in Latin 'Advisor'�, The Irish added Counselor, Saint, and Happiness. Something Sheldon Harnick wrote comes to mind, words harsh and bitter: 'From a simple beginnin', just see how her sinnin' has paid. She's the picture of happiness now that she's mastered a trade'�

She should change her name - to Jezebel.

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