beauty, love, men, poetry, women

Coffee, with demons.

Being good

Practices

Magic spells to ward old devils away

Being able to leave your phone unattended,

Without the low hum of fear

Running nails down your spine

But no one notices

Because you’re supposed to

And no cookies for the bad boy

Who is being a good man,

Coffee with my devils,

Black, no sugar

But he ladles dessert spoons worth,

Into his

She’s asleep,

Could go through and tell her,

But no, goodness is simpler

And I don’t beg

There is no notion of getting lucky

There is

There isn’t

I know magicians

And she told me about

Compassionate compromise

So, in the wan hours of morning,

Sat and talking,

With my demons,

Educated to a point of refinement,

It is almost invisible.

And the only things cut are

The horns from his head,

But sometimes,

They still sting.

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beauty, love, men, poetry

Paternal Column

All now is father,

Bear the pangs

With aplomb

Voice in the throes of

A roar and how much better

To be heard than to find

No one was listening in the first place

Say less, act more,

A little more kindness and gentle ferocity of spirit,

Here, no hope but action.

And when you find weariness

Has the force of gravity,

I will be your column.

No matter how deep the cracks

Go inwards

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beauty, love, poetry, women

Suits made of words

Sit down

Rest your head on my shoulder

Because in person,

I’m quiet with you because

The act of listening says

How I feel more than fragile words

Ever could

And even if you are silent

I still pay attention

Because so many people

Scream at the dark

And it tires me

How about you?

So sit

Remember this is all

We have

And even if we hadn’t met

In person

I would have known you

Even wearing a suit of words

But sit,

Tell me things

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grief, love, masculinity, poetry, women

Worlds

Worlds

Where we never met

Where I didn’t message you

Or I died tragically young

Terribly old

Where I lived in shadow

Afraid to let the light touch my soul

Worlds Where I didn’t

Betray my marriage and don’t feel

Guilt and relief when I look at the space on my finger

Where I didn’t let her go

Or she never arrived

Where I was smart enough

Good enough

Where I didn’t feel like dying

Worlds other than this

But here in this one

All and nothing

Alone in a way I can’t explain or justify

This is the only world I know

And across them all

You

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beauty, love, poetry, women

RPG

Sometimes taken

With the idea of getting it

So wrong

Do you ask them?

If they still think of you

And take flight within themselves

Or is it just a dismal quest through

The rain slick dungeons

Crossing the bridge of

Habituation

Resentment

You know you have a turn

Nothing is certain

The game never ends

But they hide their dice rolls

Until you see a fresh character sheet

Or late at night

Hear the scratch of pencil

The clatter of die

An extra experience point

A new character

You never know

You never know

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beauty, love, lust, masculinity, sexuality, women

After Work (NSFW)

AFTER WORK

‘Hello.’ I said.

‘Hey.’ David┬ásaid.

I smiled as I held the phone to my ear as I swiped my pass card then opened the door.

‘How was it?’ he said.

‘Honestly?’ I said.

‘Yes.’ he said.

He almost sounded amused. Continue reading

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