love, masculinity, poetry, women

Witnesses

There are those

Who you no longer see

But feel

Not ghosts nor enemies

Pieces

Unresolved questions

Made into a smile

A light which is with me

Always

And those who wish

Malign influence

Are denied it

For I have been walking

Living

To witness only

My own events and learn

As much as celebrate

I feel the well wishes

The disdain

But bear them lightly

As their wisdom left marks

As guides to better states

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beauty, life, love, poetry, women

Home is a person

I won’t miss the quiet

Squalor

But my friends are with me

Discarded the things

Which didn’t give me joy

Always travelled light

But it is a great leap forward

But I’m not so much landing

As ascending

She makes me want to be better

In a way that

Resists the weak parts

And I’ve grown stronger

If a bit slower

But look

I’m heading up

Somewhere else

But still

Home

Is a person

After all

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beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

In some small way

Quiet inside

come to you

Breathe you in

Nose against the nape 

Of your neck

Hands wandering around

Gruff chuckles

Giggles joining

Nothing I would call force

But a playful wrestle

Mark you in some small way

Make sure you know

Who you belong to

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beauty, love, men, poetry, women

Vicious Angels

We are atoms

In collision

Collusion

Through it all

I feel you

As I go about my purpose

Through pain and hunger

Late into the night

Even as disaster looms

Like vicious angels

I remain

Endure

And in this

You surrender

Gentle animal

Kind to everyone

Implicit strength

Leaner now

But still

Tuned into

The symphony of you

I hear it

Can pluck it from silence

No matter how hard

You may try

Tear down

Or build

When it comes to you

All the same

Isn’t it?

Now shut up and come here

I want you to feel me

With a force I’m not sure

Wouldn’t leave marks

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beauty, love, lust, men, poetry, sex, women

the smoke of loving battle

The languid flames

Lick at my insides

Appetites speaking

With my voice

Wielding the urge

To feed and purge

peaks of ferocious arousal

I would ravish you

Leave bruises tattooed

On your skin

The flush and dew of

A knot unties

An architecture of goodwill

Anatomy and limbs arranged

Damp intimacies

soft laughter at the cartoon

This divine rage makes

Of

Me

Restored to connect

Calm and sated

Kiss me again

Taste the smoke of loving

battle on your lips

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beauty, love, poetry, women

woman in black

my woman in black

decanting denture tablets

into tea stained cups

Telling me the things

Which make her sad

Stains

Spilled sugar

All the things

But I like it

Because everything with her

Is a test or a celebration

I’m a more private man

Because the light of her

Burns away the corrupted need

For attention

And I bask in her light

Even when she’s dressed

In shadows

Yet I remain umoved

Shifted only by will

So I shall sit

Watch her

A little longer

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love, men, short fiction, Uncategorized, women

Sommelier

1.

 

You never know someone until you’ve hurt them.

 

What goes unsaid, unmeasured is what does the most effective job.

 

Combine the two and you create the perfect means to destroy your life.

 

You’re not thinking about rebuilding as the sky caves in.

 

The knowledge of how this is all self-inflicted adds to the weight of what comes down on you.

 

Hell is pressure without the possibility of relief.

 

Infidelity, like most lies about love and relationships, is less a means to advance your sexual agenda than a chance to experience an acute and voluntary shame. You nurse it like a poisonous child, and it drains you until your bones are hollow and each breath aches with the fear of discovery. You’ll beg anyone who finds out to bear the burden along with you. It is so heavy they will hate you for it.

 

I don’t say these things to re-frame my culpability.

 

It was a means of getting the sex which had died in my marriage. There is a terrible allure to being desired, it is like access to a drug which alters your perceptions. If I think of her, or see her, then there is a faint embarrassment at her face and shape. A plain, overweight redhead who seldom wore makeup, wore Triumph bras and fucked me with a ferocity which left me gasping.

 

She smelled of talcum powder and oranges.

 

My ex wife smelled of berries and white wine. The good stuff even though she seldom drank anything other than Lambrini or Baileys at Christmas.

 

My fiancee smells of coconut and butter.

 

I carry the faint stink of potted meat, popcorn grease and rancid butter. My breath carries a hint of acetone as my body is in a constant state of ketosis from not eating.

Scent is an appropriate way to gauge someone’s health or well-being. 

 

Now, sir, if you’d like to make your selection.

 

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