Monday, 16 September 2019


I’m aware, fully, independently, soulfully aware of what’s happening around me and within. It’s a stark contrast to the calm, serenity filled existence, that I’m used to. No issues, no paths needing to be followed and no quandaries to explore. Free, fulfilled and nothing much more.

Then there’s you. Just you. All you. Everything about you. I just want to ignore all of it, everything, every single little nuance of who and what you are. You’re that button that begs to be pressed, you’re the thought that lingers after exclaiming my ignorance. You’re the disorder within my very, eloquently, decisive structure and routine.

There’s a moment, the realisation, when and where you realise that you have a tight grip upon your emotions. That sterile subconscious that’s suddenly and irrevocably level. The balance within all things. The moment of moments. The pacification of a lifetimes struggle. I’m there, been there, returned there and more. Through that, experiencing that, means you’re more than aware of your surroundings.

I mention the word surroundings, like it’s some kind of special gift, but all I see is the solitary wisps of you within my mind. I want to look away, look out into the world, but I’m becoming trapped in an unravelling travesty of indulgence and dreams.  There’s something happening and, truth be told, I don’t wish for it to stop.

Maybe I should focus, force this into the world, face and view the moments head on. I’m not one to run away, from anything, despite hiding on occasions as I wait for my thoughts to procure the needed strategy. Often, or not, it’s then too late but at least I found the way. That path. This, on the other hand, is not a path. It’s all about you and you.

Swept away, the sea defences raised so very, very high, yet nothing can stop whatever it is that we’ve started. I’ve felt and thought you next to me, upon me, around me and more. We’ve broken the envelope that holds the story to a thousand events. It’s wrong, but right. It’s dark, it’s grey, it’s whiter than white with all of the other colours about to get into this very crazy mix.

I could say one word, ten words, or even write this, but it’ll never be enough as words simply will not do. I don’t want to speak, right now, as I’m aware and I’m realising that I’m losing something of myself. The therapeutic fear of falling for another. The imaginary meditative state we can reach. It’s all there. It’s all in the moment.

I’m not sure what could happen, or will happen, if I seemingly let myself float away into this space. The unknown, the known, both at the same time, the same old same new, appearing in front of my very eyes.

I’m aware, fully, independently, soulfully aware of what’s happening around me and within. It’s a stark contrast to the calm, serenity filled existence, that I’m used to. No issues, no paths needing to be followed and no quandaries to explore. Free, fulfilled and nothing much more. This is all a make-believe moment, just in case, imagining what it would feel like to fall for someone. Ever mindful, of what might one day, actually be.

Saturday, 14 September 2019


Ezrielle curled his fingers around the thick brutal chains, as he smiled at her. He was strong, very, very strong, but maybe this time she’d manage to contain him. Control him. Keep him at bay long enough for the current events to expire.

Wishful thinking, the notion of control possibly proving to be her ignorance in place. Naivety at play, the previous events escaping her mindful thoughts, or just her way of playing those sweet vicarious games of hers. He liked them. All of them, no matter the moment, circumstance or notion. He’d play them all, with vigour, expectancy and far, far more.

His fingers grasped the chain hooks, bolted to the floor, the two inches of pure steel and concrete keeping him at bay. Tightening, she watched as his arms tensed, along with every single muscle across his lascivious frame. She’d possibly find his perfect body disgusting, if it were not for her entire body screaming for his attention. She needed him, all over her soul, body and mind, which is why she did what she did. She hated his control of her, despised wishing for his kisses, his attentive nature calling to her in the middle of each night. She’d wake, yearn, ask and surely, receive.

She laughed at him, as he tried to stand, tensing and exerting nearly every ounce of energy he had within his veins. He closed his eyes, pulling at the chains, trying, calling upon his strength to do what it often did. Impress. Normally he’d never care for such things, but she seemed to enjoy his feats of endurance, especially where it counted and, surely, she counted. Insatiable, undeniably demanding, her ravenous instincts breaking through any intentional defences he presented.

That weakness, deep within, needing her more than he’d like to admit. The bonding of both for eternity, the awakening of an eternal connection shared between the rarest of two. He’d walk away from her, forsake her demands, yet he knew that he’d struggle to find another that seemed to light his internal spark. Scorching, burning at his very thoughts, he’d realised many eons previous that he could never leave. His arch enemy, his arc of truth returning to the indefinable conclusion, that no two could ever fuck the way they did.

There was more between them, between the laughter and fornication, an unspoken bond that neither would acknowledge. He’d seen this, witnessed his thoughts upon that singular day that he thought he’d lost her forever. It shook him, woke him from a certain aspect of his born ignorance, never to ever be forgotten. He'd once spent years wandering the deserts of this world, the solitary exclusion surrounding him, embracing him, only to find that his thirst could never be quenched without her lips poured over his.

She laughed at him, again scorning his actions, as he failed to break his given bonds. He smiled, for a brief second, as he laughed a realising acknowledgement. This would not do. He would never be beaten, never caged, pushed to the floor by this very means. Forcing his pride down into the depths of his soul, he reached his anger, for his lust and desire, that smouldering aggressive nature of man. He held it close to his thoughts, allowing them into his very blood and soul.

He opened his eyes, his head bowed ever so slightly, as his mood changed from playful to power defined direction. He would have her, today, tonight, in the next few moments. She knew what was about to happen, her mind informing her body to prepare itself for the next few hours. He would not stop until he had satisfied every single inch of her. He didn’t care about himself, in that way, as this was his mission in her life.

He again grabbed the chains, bending over slightly as he bent his knees. The full force of his legs, the entire range of his back muscles providing support, as he engaged the very core of his emotions. Strength was nothing, without the reason behind the purpose. He felt his passion, his need, his very reason for being and pushed upwards with his legs. Arms, holding on with all of their internal limits, as a second moved away with the sands of time. The chain linkages snapped, releasing him from his bonds. He stood there, in all his gloriously formed stature, looking directly at her. She smiled, then giggled, waiting for her prized possession to thank her for his latest game. After all, at moments like this, the monster within him came out to play with the roaring full moon.

Monday, 9 September 2019


Each step, each lumberingly laborious step, loomed ahead of her within the spiral. It had been a few months, weeks, with moments of joy filling her life in a way she thought she’d never experience. She’d smile. She truly would, if it weren’t for the damn stairs ahead of her. Sure, yes, of course, it was keeping her fit and lively, but that wasn’t the point. If there were a lift, she’d take that instead.

At times, on a good day, a very, very good day, she’d jog up the stairs but today was not one of those days. It was one of ‘those’ days. The weight of the world arrived, to her mind, the moment she had opened her burdened eyes. Nothing in particular weighted her thoughts, just the usual, the ever so often notion that staying within the soft sheets and escaping life would be easier. Facing life. Embracing life. Realising that things could be amazing, could be effortless. If only; if that ‘only’ moment roused her thoughts into believing. Anxious, heavy, wooden thoughts betraying her. She just didn’t want to move.

The basis of all things, her ever present thought, of simply not being good enough. Her alarm had spoken to her, after the third snooze, reminding her that there actually was a place that needed her. Wanted her. Called to her through all of the doubt and upturned smiles. He wasn’t a rescue, nobody would be, but for the briefest time she actually smiled, forgetting the thoughts, flying without the constant need and reminder of becoming grounded. It was beauty itself, the grace to which she inspired, to see her own face glow with a glorious smile. For that moment.

Each step, higher than the last, each step a push forward. She stopped, placing her hand upon the rail to her side, puffing air from her lungs as she grasped at her breathing. That momentary lapse in effort as she allowed her body to catch up and recover. It was early, far, far too early, but she had been given the suggestion and accepted in a moment of madness. No make-up, scruffs, just herself, her torturing thoughts and not much else. This is what he had asked for and, against ever single screaming thought within her mind, this would be what he would get.

The questions and taunts appeared within her mind, as she continued up the spiral. She’d found herself, figuratively, metaphorically and emotionally, at the bottom of many spirals. She’d climb from them, reach up from the bottom of whatever moment she found herself within, many, many times and would continue to do so. Through great fear, or so she’d read, could rise the most impressive willpower imaginable. Facing her own fears, her own thoughts each and every single day, meant that she could barely run, let alone hide, from each and every single one of them.

She wasn’t good enough, wouldn’t and couldn’t accomplish this, or maybe that, despite doing so against all of her odds. She’d see people flying so very, very high, despite having to be grounded and attached to her breathing patterns at all times. The momentary flairs, where she’d simply wished to run and escape, haunted her and pushed her to the ground. She denied it all, of course, as the desire to function the same as the people standing beside her, overruled the great big monster within the room of her mind. Haunted, exasperated, the darkness still calling for her at every single turn.

Another step, another moment closer to the door that held so much for her. She’d push him away, if it were not for the way she felt about him. She, again, reminded herself that he was not her rescue, a saviour of sorts, but a safe haven to relax and let her inner self express. The thoughts seemed to dissolve when he held her hand. He, as much as he said he did, seemed to marginally understand. He wasn’t the type to just say that he did, as he was not living within her thoughts, experiencing them, pushing them away when even picking an outfit filled her full of dread.

The last step, the spiral behind her for another day, gone and thankfully forgotten. She stood in front of the door, that fabulous door, the door that allowed her freedom of thought and expression. No judgement, no repercussions, only the odd look when he seemed to know what she was thinking. He had taught her one thing, amongst others, that her first thought or decision to a question would usually be the correct answer. All that followed was doubt, questioning, denial, fruitless and best avoided. The slow thinking versus the fast thinking of life. That thought, after realising that everyone did the same thing, opened her eyes a little. She’d denied her thoughts as much as possible. Her first decision, to any question, would be her guide and that’s why, right now, she was standing in front of his door looking like a hedge had managed to prepare her hair, face and clothes for the day.

She gently knocked on the door, her usual way of saying hello despite standing outside many a door for longer than necessary. She did not like loud noises and, due to this, she also didn’t wish to create them. The door opened, as it had done many times previous, as her view was filled with his smile. Those eyes of his, seemed to do something to her, in a way that she didn’t wish to ever change. They saw her, really, really looked into her while so many, many people looked through her. For once, that glimmer of hope residing within, that spark alight, she actually believed that he wanted to be with her.

“Hello,” he said with his usual warm voice, “Come in, everything’s ready!”

She smiled, stepping forward, not having any idea of what was about to happen. The apartment was beautiful, the d├ęcor quaint yet stylish, lived in and arranged for relaxation. Whenever she walked into the room the feeling of calm flowed over, which was a stark contrast to the icy feeling of her apartment.

“How are you?” he asked with that damn smile still upon his face.

“I’m fine!” she replied, knowing that she wasn’t fine, as her thought bounced around within her mind. She looked terrible, her hair wasn’t arranged as she’d like, her clothes a mess, her mood swinging from happy, to scared, to running away after throwing his potted plant through the window. She was, if she were honest with herself, a complete mess of contradictions. She felt her hands start to shake, as her thoughts simply destroyed any beauty that was within her reach.

He stepped forward, holding her hand, as his other hand moved around to her back as it pressed her against him. “I know that you’re not fine, which is perfectly fine, as you’ve arrived here as instructed, yet you still look amazing!”

She laughed. She didn’t look amazing, yet he seemed to see through all of that and insist that she was. The darkness, surrounding her, made her own smile escape her lips.

“Hey,” he said knowing exactly what was happening, “No words!”

She looked up into his eyes, wondering what was happening, as he kissed her. Slowly, very slowly, as he removed her jacket and started to unbutton her blouse. She looked at him as the kiss ended, her body racing, her heart becoming alive within the moment. The blouse fell to the floor, as he bent down, removing her shoes and socks. Returning to her view, looking deeply into her eyes, with that damn smile of his still doing what it did, he unbuckled her belt, undid the buttons on her jeans and slowly, with a little bit of effort, jostled them away from her. Stepping away from her clothes, he reached around and separated the clasps of  her bra with one hand and then, just then, removed the last remaining garment.

Naked. Completely naked, standing in his room, her mind suddenly vacant of thought as her breath explained the warmth escaping from her body. From only just managing to escape her bed, the grounding of her thoughts becoming her only concern, to dragging herself here, for this moment and notion. It all seemed a bizarre and crazy series of events. Her belief in herself, something of an enigma, yet she could stand here, in front of this man, completely naked and vulnerable. None of it made sense, with all of it real and so very, very beautiful.

In one swift moment he cradled her within his arms, her legs over his right arm and her back held with his left. He carried her, across the room, towards the pre-prepared bath. Slowly, gently, he lowered her in. The bubbles, surrounding her, the aroma of freshness embracing her, as she just kept her eyes upon his. She watched as he removed his dressing gown, his taut figure greeting her as she gloriously viewed everything he had to offer. She’d laugh, or even giggle, instead choosing to keep her delight a secret. For now.

Stepping into the bath, lowering himself, their legs finding their place, he motioned for her to turn around to rest upon his chest. She turned, feeling his arms wrap themselves around her, holding her, greeting her in the way that they should always greet.

“If you’re feeling brave, tell me everything about the spirals that you face, each and every single day!”

She smiled, knowing, realising, that this was a safe place, would always be a safe place, with a person that understood. He realised that some struggled with the smallest things, the moments of life, the words that needed to be found.  But no matter what she thought, irregardless of the struggles, no matter how she managed to stay grounded, she’d gladly fall into a spiral as wonderful as this moment.

Thursday, 29 August 2019


She crossed her legs, becoming comfortable whilst sitting outside the French riviera. Calm, finding the place where she relaxed her body, as well as trying to relax that mind of hers. The thoughts, invading her, enveloping, consistently trying to find a weakness to exploit. That type of thinking didn’t matter to her, not anymore. She’d found a release, a sin of sins to explore. It kept her up at night, at times, while also keeping her thoughts constantly filled. He, him, that person sitting across from her busy reading the local paper, made her needed sins reality.

Excitement, his smile encompassing the very word, the very notion of being completely, utterly and absolutely devoured in every single way. Yet, at no point, would she ever deny any of the moments they’d shared. He’d appeared from nowhere which, to her, baffled her structured, whilst cluttered way of thinking and living. She fought herself, at times, finding any source of shallow negativity to cling to, to embrace, yet the sins upon her skin had spoken a legion of words within.

He was all of her sins, made manifest, from all of the nights, those lonely curled up and cold nights. All of the sins she needed to commit with someone, all of the times she desired someone to be within her, wrapped around her, having her, taking her, freeing her from the everyday boredom of life, drama and idiocy; made real.

She just wanted to feel that sin. She wanted to feel so alive, like she could let go, lower her guard, let someone in to do whatever they wanted to do. If, the next day, they were still beside her. As long as there was that little bit more, she didn’t care what sin was performed upon her body. If they wanted that little bit more, listened to her, held her hand, walked beside her, she didn’t care what happened in private. She was open, freely willing to do every… single… little… thing.

She didn’t mind the bruises, on her arms, or legs, as that was what he was. A whirlwind, a cacophony of absolute lust, desire and need. Again, that did not bother her, as whilst he was being a whirlwind, she was simply being swept away with the moment and then, from nowhere, he would calm. He would be so sensitive, touching her like she’d never been touched before, holding her in such a way that ensured she felt cared for, loved and more than desired.  Then, he would rise again, to literally envelop and encompass every single part of her.

He was a man, she was a woman, and he did not mean to hurt her, at all, but his fuelled moments made her shake, feel, her need sending butterflies to her stomach. She was wanted. He wanted to hold her and never let go, when he reached that point. He didn’t want to stop, never stop, and she didn’t wish for him to stop. Besides, she’d given him a few bruises, whilst on top, feeling, expressing, also not willing to let go of the moment. She even, once, nearly broke one of his fingers. Even though the pain echoed through the room, in that moment, neither stopped, neither giving in to the pain, because when it’s that intense, she simply did not wish to cease the moment.

His sin became hers. She knew that he’d had a colourful life, filled with pleasure and that pain spilling from within him at random moments, but that made his mystery seem all the more sensual. Each word, from his lips, called to her, especially when he whispered his sinful words at the most inappropriate times. He just knew everything about her. Reading each look upon her face, knowing exactly what she wanted, when she wanted. He seemed to have a sixth sinful sense that drove her crazy. She’d never known anyone to use their lips, the way he did.  Vocally, seductively, emotionally and provocatively. His damn sin, being spoken and written upon her delicate skin, as her cheeks felt flush with her rampaging thoughts.

He looked up, from the newspaper, with those dark eyes of his. Her body, her gloriously worshipped body, felt his eyes upon her as she witnessed his sin wash over her. She would never, ever, have this any other way. She would sin all day, all night, repeating that sin until she could hardly breath, as a world without sin, would literally be a sin made real.

Wednesday, 28 August 2019


Jacob looked through the glass casing, wide eyed, full of wonder and intrigue. Eventually, one day within his future, the Crown of Crowns would be his and his alone. The majestic ideals of a mere child, with the excitement and honest innocence shining through his wondrous smile. His nose, being as naughty as it usually was, ever so slightly pressed against the glass. His eyes filled themselves with the view of the diamonds, spread across the golden surface. Magical.

Stepping back, ever so slightly, his inquisitive nature got the better of him as he asked the same question, he’d been asking for the last few weeks, “When will this be mine?” The guards, usually silent, carried on with their duties of standing very, very still, until, from the corridor, appeared his Uncle. Jacob adored his Uncle, the mystery of every single conversation, forcing his young mind to think of moments he might not have considered.

“Master Jacob, on this very day, I can finally answer your question. That is, of course, if you can answer mine?”

Jacob, throwing his arms around his Uncle, beamed from ear to ear as his imagination jumped into thinking mode. He loved the tasks that Uncle brought to his eyes and ears. He’d learned archery, staff fighting, sword play and more, whilst being mentally challenged by his Uncle’s wisdom of life. Each task, each moment, a chance to learn and explore, to acknowledge that any physical training required more than action, but thought as well.

“Uncle, what is the question?” asked Jacob, his small heart beating within his chest as he wondered. He, after all, adored the Crown or Crowns and wished to accept the gift without delay.

“My sweet Jacob, my ever-wondering Jacob. Are you worthy of such a gift? The Crown of Crowns?”

Jacob bounced from foot to foot, his innocence being of a boy that had not yet seen the world for what ii truly could be, which Uncle adored and loved. Uncle, of course, had been given the task of slowly bringing Jacob into the world, teaching him, guiding him, to ensure that he reached his teenage years with wisdom as well as the obvious wealth. Money meant nothing, to a man such as Uncle, without the knowledge and wisdom of what to do with such monies.

“Of course I am Uncle, it’s destined to be mine?”

Uncle shook his head, smiling as he did so. Kneeling, his face the same level as Jacob’s, he knew that the first answer would not be the correct answer. Power, in any shape or form, was a precious and dangerous force to hold within any person’s world.

“My Dear Boy, that is not the correct answer. Come back tomorrow. No words, right now, leave, think, return tomorrow at this time and you shall answer the question again!”

Jacob, with a fading smile, wished to say so many things, provide all of the cascading reasons as to why he felt that he gave the correct answer but, instead, he simply did as requested. This moment, his Uncle’s words, were to be held close to his thoughts. Any person could fire an arrow, aim to release the wooden artefact to bestow a consequence upon another, but the reason behind firing the arrow, was all that counted in the scheme of all great things.

Uncle watched as Jacob slowly, ploddingly, walked from the room. “The wonder of innocence” he said, being whispered under his breath.

The next day, Uncle waited, standing next to the Crown of Crowns. It’s elegance, understated, regal, filling his eyes with pride and fortitude. The grace at which a king wore such artefacts, had always filled him with pride. The splendour and magnificence of it all, enamoured him in ways that he may never understand. From around the corner, Jacob appeared, running with glee and certainty, “Uncle, Uncle, I think I have the answer!”

“Calm yourself Boy, relax your breathing and in your own time, clearly state which you wish to say!”

Jacob calmed himself, closing his eyes as he slowly breathed in through his nose, then out of his mouth. He could feel his heart, bashing against his chest, start to calm and relax. He opened his eyes and, slowly, started to speak.

“Uncle, maybe I’m not worthy of the Crown of Crowns. I am not. But I would accept such a gift without question!”

Uncle shook his head, smiling as he did so, “Return again tomorrow, young Man.”

Jacob looked thoroughly confused, almost annoyed, his mild anxiety appearing across his face. He, again, stilted his tongue with respect for his Uncle’s words. He’d thought about his answer for hours and hours. Barely sleeping, wondering and wishing for the correct answer to appear. Once again, despite his efforts, his gift was refused. Turning, slowly, he once again begrudgingly walked from the room.

The next day appeared, the hands of time reaching the desired moment, with Uncle once again standing in the very same spot. Today, he understood, would be a day of days. Uncle knew that Jacob had a keen mind, a solid mind, for such a youngster within a court of jesters, schemers and play artists. Jacob would be all he could be, one day, a day upon a calendar that would soon arrive.

Jacob appeared, again, walking hesitantly around the same corner. Uncle’s head tilted to the side, ever so slightly, as he wondered what was happening within this young man’s mind. It wasn’t often that he’d seen Jacob like this. Reflective, stilted, not quite sure of himself. Either way, the conclusion would soon appear.

“How are you today, Jacob?” Uncle asked with care.

“I am okay Uncle.” Replied Jacob.

“Do you have a suitable answer for me?”

“I do uncle, I do!”

“Then let’s hear it boy, time waits and awaits our decisions.”

Jacob bit his lip, as he looked down at the floor, starting to slowly speak. Uncle could tell that Jacob didn’t like the answer to which he had found but, thankfully, Jacob accepted the truth of such things.

“I am neither worthy, or unworthy, of such a Crown of Crowns. Gifts are given, accepted and appreciated. Especially one as precious as this.”

Uncle smiled a deep, caring smile, the lines upon his face showing his love and appreciation for such an honest and down to earth answer.

“Correct, my boy. None of us are worthy of such a gift, be it love from another, or a Crown of Crowns. To think that we are worthy of anything, is but folly filled with vacant grace. We must earn such things. We must earn the love of others. The Crown of Crowns signifies that you will be loved, such is a ring of marriage, but before you can truly appreciate such moments, each of us must prove ourselves to be worthy!”

Jacob smiled, as he’d finally found the answer, with Uncle’s words resounding within his heart and mind. “Will I ever be worthy of Love, Uncle?”

“My boy, we are worthy of our own love and, through the grace of actions and deeds, we may all one day be worthy, of the love of others. This, and only this, will keep you grounded. Earn, respect, appreciate and listen. This is the path to love. This is the path to being worthy, of the Crown of Crowns!”

Jacob jumped up and down, twice, his excitement once again getting the better of him.

“I shall try to be the best person I can be, Uncle, I shall listen, just as I listen to you!”

Uncle nodded, “Jacob… be worthy my Son, know your worth and be worthy!”

Sunday, 25 August 2019


The first time I saw your picture, I did and said something a little bit wrong. My mind escaped itself, vanished, as my eyes sent your image to my heart and, in that moment, I simply said to the empty room, “I’m going to marry you!” I then silenced myself, informed myself to stop being stupid, as this way of thinking simply would not do.

When you get to the age that I am, right now, with the scars and lessons understood, that way of thinking is all a little bit silly. Maybe even scary but, when you forget all of that and remind yourself that you can still be innocent in the way you view things, you can permit, allow, remove the hesitation and believe again.

There’s only one life, filled with many chances, moments, with few of them seemingly ever meant to last. I’ve formed connections, created a whole new world, remembering that things in our lives can and will be better than they were before.

The second time I saw your picture, after we’d spoken many times, I’d reached that rational place and space. It’s a solemn realisation that we have to stay grounded, level, safe and protected. What happened to flying as high as we could? What happened to my dreams and imagination? I know that they’re all there, within me, sustaining my worth, hidden from the world as we’re all supposed to be special, whilst silently exclaiming that we’re afraid to be more than we are. We’re either all special, all wondrous beings, or simply all meant to fade away with time.

Either way, whichever picture that I have of you within me, it matters not. I’ve been called every single name under the sun. I’m supposedly the most understanding man some have met, also giving, loving, communicative, whilst freely giving silence as my ears listen to all of your words. At the same time, as the echoes reach my mind, I’ve heard the vilest comments being made about who I am. Undeserved, understood, but never to ever be forgotten.

What I’m trying to convey, as I myself search for the words to communicate my thoughts, is that I’m no longer willing to put one foot in front of the other, in order to walk across the bridge between us. I’m not afraid, most certainly not lacking confidence, but that fear of miss-understanding and repugnant recriminations, have made me want to stop forever more. It’s been a year of years, with a few day of days that can never be taken back.

Yet, still, from nowhere, my heart skipped a second and my eyes opened wide. No matter which crushing car crash of our lives we’ve suffered through, no-one and nothing can ever expel my innocence. It’s there, in my words as your impression flooded my view. We live in a world where men have to push to get what they want. The lion after the lioness, dressed to impress with words and actions of pure vulgar irregularity. It’s the golden standard for all men to aspire to. That’s the truth. The madness of where we’re at.

I’m not going to do that. I do what I do, I say whatever I say, as that’s who I am. Yeah, I know, crazy but true. No-one wants a butler, whilst blagards and thieves exist to taunt everyone with words of temptation. The word ‘gentleman’ hasn’t existed for the longest of times and I honestly, truthfully, appreciate why so many people are jaded.

The first time I saw your picture, I did and said something a little bit silly. My mind escaped itself, jumped, as my eyes sent your image to my heart and, in that moment, I simply said to the empty room, “I’m going to marry you!” I then laughed at myself, ignored myself as I was being stupid, as this way of thinking reminded me of being so very, very young and innocent. Again.

Remember: This is a work of fiction! (With a bit of life experience thrown in)

Tuesday, 13 August 2019


David touched the phone’s screen, his breathing stilted with expectant nerves, opening the view to see that the message had arrived. Finally, after such a long time, he could smile. He pressed the text icon and watched as the screen changed to a familiar view. He scrolled up, for a few seconds, with many messages and memories sliding in front of his eyes. Finally, he stopped scrolling, as he reached the first message.

He started to read. Speed reading. Glancing through, missing out the usual formalities of conversation, until he reached a certain point in time. The first kiss. His eyes softened, the smile increasing, as his emotions tried to grasp the situation with a pure heart, an understanding heart. That first kiss where you show that you’re interested, that you want more, feel more and need that something extra from a person. The wondrous adventure of all the moments to follow.

He recalled their first kiss, stolen, a quick glancing affair taken whilst he was feeling that extra bit brave. He had all the confidence in the world, with any woman, until he met someone that he actually really, really liked. Maybe he’d watched far too many black and white movies, as a child, or maybe it was the dignity and nobility trying to enforce that he respected her in all the ways that he should. The long-lost values that meant little, in the fast and free moments of their present world.

Either way, no matter his thoughts, he’d distracted her and upon her eyes meeting his again, he took that moment to grab his kiss. A quick, single, simple gesture to ensure their nerves stayed calm and the conversation relaxed. It had worked. The success of a brave foot forward or, should he say, placing his lips upon hers. He returned to viewing the messages as his emotions rose. Special. Something to remember.

He scrolled a little more, the quick messages between them flowing with such ease. He reached the obvious place where the relationship turned from friendly gestures, to the intimacy shared between the two. She turned him on, with nearly every single word from her lips. She wasn’t one to hold back and, finally, neither did he. He’d waited the longest time to find someone that he could feel comfortable with, to be able to express himself the way he’d wanted, with happiness finally being embraced. He felt free, unconstrained, as she listened to whatever his imagination wanted to think. He’d whisper to her, whenever he could, words of devotion, love, debauchery and more. She seemed to adore his naughty mind, the nature of being able to say the words needed, to drive the both of them insane with physical need. It was the electric to his fire.

Then, he recalled the moment they’d said the three words that meant so much. He feared the words, held them close to his heart, despite wanting the world to know. The vulnerability they signified, warning him, embracing him, opening his arms to allow another person into his life and emotion. She said the words first, as he read them on the screen, with him quickly rushing to her side, to say them in person. He just wanted to see her eyes glow, her smile escape, with her arms holding him close as he felt even more freedom. The trust, often given, seldom actually earned, being created between them.

He was so happy. They were both happy whilst walking hand in hand. The world faded; the moments bonding the both of them, to a new place. He continued to scroll, realising that it really was working for her, the love that she had.

Content with the messages, he reached the bottom of the texts and started to type his reply. He simply needed to know, wished to have an answer and, despite the moments being as they were, he didn’t want to push or hamper where she currently resided. He pressed send, next to his typed message, as he re-read the content, ‘Thanks Brian. I just needed to know, and I hope that it works out for the both of them. It hurts but sometimes, knowing that your ex is happy with someone else, is all that matters’.

He pressed the lock button on the side of his phone, standing and turning towards the door, as he slowly walked from the room. He knew that history repeated itself, that people said the same things, to each other, over and over again, yet he preferred closure, an ending, a realisation that everyone was a free spirit. He was now free, eager to move forward, after reading a few simple, little, private texts.