Never My Love mistress of words recalls a conversation she had with her muse. It’s an indefinable, ethereal, which some say is a lyrical, even mystical, kind of love. The love she wasn’t looking for, never thought she wanted, but once it showed up on her doorstep, she wondered how she ever lived without it.


We were talking over a glass of wine when you asked me if there’ll come a time when I’d grow tired of you.

Of course, I was speechless.  How could I?  Never my love, never my love, I replied.  There isn’t anyone who knows me better than you do.  I’d be without passion if not for you, I argued.

But you weren’t listening, and talked over me. You wondered if this heart of mine will lose its desire for you. How could it? How could I? Never my love, never my love, I replied.  What makes you think love will end? When you know that my whole life depends on you (on you)? Never my love, never my love, I cried.

We argued.
I hate when we do.
You left me.
I mopped.
Time moved on.
You do what you do.
I do what I cannot stop doing.
Pages accumulated.

Long ago, I learned to be a writer I had to write with or without you. I love when you are near. You are the flame in the fire, the embers in the ash, the heat in my blood, and a torch song that only I can hear. But with or without you, and in order to survive, I go on. I must. I’ve told you before, it’s more a calling than a choice.

I write.

You think I can’t stand on my own. You think that I am weak, fear I’ll change my mind, and I won’t require you. Never my love, never my love, I cried. I tried to convince you there is only you, but how could I? A writer has no magical proof of her love other than to do what she knows how to do, which is to use the gift, the mystical, even lyrical, indefinable, love of words she’s gifted with, and write.  It’s the only proof her love is real.

How can you think love will end? When I’ve asked you to spend your whole life with me (with me, with me)? I asked.


It’s not magical, nor is there really a muse, although, in my romantic heart, I choose to believe there is. As for the love, it is ethereal, even lyrical, but mostly it’s mystical.

Do you have a passion for something you never expected to have? How has it shaped your life?



I’m a writer and hoarder of one-size-fits-all panty hose. Until the hose fits over my bum, I write to provide an alternative view on writing and perfection.

28 thoughts on “Never My Love

  1. Quilting. Never entered my mind. I didn’t grow up around them. But fabric and colors and the comfort of quilts have taken hold. It soothes the painter in me and is a nice foil to writing time.

  2. Hmm… I’m not sure if any of my passions came as surprises to me. I’ve always loved to read and write. I’ve always wanted to be a mom, so my close relationship with my daughter isn’t a surprise. The only thing I can think of is how I took up tennis. It was very spur of the moment. I wanted to try a sport in high school, so the summer after eighth grade, I picked up a racket for the first time and I just fell in love with the sport. I went on to set a school record for most wins two years in a row in my junior and senior years, and I’d say playing tennis shaped my high school years. I met people I wouldn’t have otherwise met.
    Kelly Hashway recently posted….Friday Feature: Dominus by Christine FonsecaMy Profile

    • Kelly, we never know what’s going to strike our fancy. I didn’t have your insight about writing, so mine love of it was a surprise. I wrote, but only in secret. Do you still play tennis?

    • I was on a plane to Denver last weekend when this song rolled around on my mp3 player, and I immediately thought about writing. I have a long time love affair with Etta. You know some of the oldies you just can’t live without. On my way over to listen to the video.

  3. You picked one of my favorite songs, and one of my favorite versions too! I so love this post, and need to remind myself that my “loves” never are the ones to do the leaving, if they seem to be missing it’s because I am blocking them!!! Love you!!
    Kathy Radigan recently posted….The Joy of BakingMy Profile

  4. I love how your applied these lyrics to your writing, Brenda…not only moving, but quite encouraging.

    There is something that I absolutely adore and that is visiting children. I never realized how much I would love spending time with them; helping to shape their imaginations and listen to their stories and dreams. I am always surrounded by kids because my job enables me to be, however, when you are standing in front of them, front and center in a school’s assembly hall, or kneeling down on the floor in a small classroom, coloring and engaging in different activities with them, there is something magical. Oh, to be young again! Their possibilities are endless, which is why I am grateful that I can be one more person to remind them about such opportunities. Great post!
    gina recently posted….Scents and Spirits of the PastMy Profile

  5. Neat! I’m a little surprised at how easy writing comedy is coming to me.

    I used to write political essays and other stuff when I was a politician. That was hard because you want it to be perfect.

    Writing comedy is coming very easy to me because I’m naturally funny. Yes I am! Yes I am! Okay, Whatever!
    Agent 54 recently posted….The One That Got AwayMy Profile

  6. Love this version of Never My Love. Funny I started my latest blog post with a song too – Ella Fitzgerald’s Summertime. As for passions, I’m a fickle sort. I pick up and drop all manner of pursuits: Chinese brush painting, origami, sewing, Chinese knotting (never mastered that one) landscaping, beading. The list goes on and on. once I’ve learned the basics, passion fades and I’m on to the next endeavor. Words and writing are the one constant.
    Lynne Favreau recently posted….Summertime, NaNoWriMo and MeMy Profile

  7. I have an actual, real-life Muse. This wasn’t always the case. But I write with or without her. Mostly with, but even when she’s absent, I write with her in mind.

  8. I totally relate to your love for writing, how it’s an “indefinable, ethereal, . . . . lyrical, even mystical, kind of love.” I can’t say I have any other passions, except, perhaps, for the things I love–my children, “nature,” the ocean, the oak trees, certain poems by Wallace Stevens or Emily Dickinson, or Mary Oliver. . . . I’d say my passion is for love itself, what I see in things, in others, that makes me love them, and as you say, it’s indefinable, mystical.

    You always have posts that make me stop and think and dig deep. Thank you!
    Deborah J. Brasket recently posted….13 Ways of Looking at Dying, Just Before, and the Moment AfterMy Profile

  9. Brenda, I wasn’t familiar with Etta James’ version of this song, but you know I was a kid when the original version came out. To me the Associations will always sing it best. This song wrings the nostalgia out of me, having the capacity to bring me to tears. Reminds me so much of my youth, of days gone by, of my mother who I loved so much but lost so long ago. Thank you. I love this song so much, so thank you for weaving it through this beautiful post.
    monicastangledweb recently posted….Pack-Free ZoneMy Profile

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