Its been written in the stars that I will be
Starstruck by your personality, and your
clenched fists
Supergiant of manliness that strikes soft
flesh, sparks bruises, causes pain.
Leave, people say, but I can't, love is a giant supernova.
Sparse is the love for me, infinite is the universe.
The stars I see now are not of distant galaxies though,
but rather the start of a concussion

Heart throbbing
Mind racing
Breath panting
Pores sweating
Nails clawing
Lips locking
Tongues dancing
Skin tingling
Back arching
Mind altering
Eyes closing
Mouths moaning
Fingers finding
Hair pulling
Voice growling
Senses overloading
Being tingling
Blood singing
Body aching
Sleep **coming!

Is my shadow my soul?
Or is my soul my shadow?
Both come with me.
Why would they be separate?
Can my soul live also in my shadow?
Can my shadow hide my soul?
Shadow in the sun, indicates fun.
Shadows in the dark always give rise to fright.
Is my shadow the duality of my soul?
My inner struggle with bad and good?

A shadow is where direct light cannot reach due to
obstruction by an object.
This I know.
Is the obstruction my soul?
The soul, in many religious, philosophical, psychological,
and mythological traditions, is the incorporeal and,
the immortal essence of a person or living thing.
So what is the shadow?
The dark part of our souls?
Or, as many would have it a scientific result.
Soul = object of spirituality
Shadow= result of science

The ancient Greeks believed air, as opposed to solid earth, to be incorporeal.
Ancient Persians believed fire to be incorporeal in that every soul was said to be produced from it.
We humans are mostly water.
We humans live on earth.
Each of the four elements manifests in us.
Our shadows and souls must therefore,
relate to human activity on the principle of "as above, so below"
My shadow and soul are me

When I walk by, do you feel the tension in the air?
Do you notice that I'm even there?
I'm waiting for you to notice me.
I'm watching whilst you go day by day oblivious of my stare.
I walk so close you must feel my breath
Hear my steps
Smell my scent
Feel my need to be by your side.
And, yet I'm continually denied my presence by you.
Others notice, they look at me, through me.
They ignore me.
The woman in the grey shroud, blending in with the crowd.
Soon, this shroud will lie in tatters, and all who matter will know
How enticed by your paradise I paid the price
Seeds sown, Ploughed and rooted
The child within was muted
Know how you denied me twice and left us to die, sliced.

My demon stays silent
He has nothing to say
If I allowed him to speak
You'd only run away
So when I'm asked "are you ok"
Silence is the stern reply.
Quiet, peace, dumb, mute
Blank, impassive, soundless a
Demon tamed by having nothing to say

My wonderful friend
You blend words like a wizard
Evoke imagery out of syllables and rhyme
Leave us breathless at your unique insight
and jealous of your zeal for being a wordsmith.
Were I able to, my wonderful friend I would knight thee
for services to the beauty of words.

I'm sleeping, dreaming, suffering sensory deprivation
Inhibited, relaxed, circadian rhythms coursing through
REM, renewing cells, awaiting the terror of the night.

I wake, here you come, slowly, announcing your presence
Until you stand over me
I cannot move, immobile

I cannot scream, mute
I cannot fight, struggle or defend
I feel you, looming above me

Thrashing will only alert you to my knowing of you
I calm my breathing, relax my posture, think of the coming sun
Advertising my lie that I know you are here.

You lean forward I smell your foul, fecund hot breath
Your infertile want of me by you, but I want him
You are not him

Slowly, you pull the sheet down
I remain still,knowing that you do not exist
A memory of long ago, of my helplessness

He, is asleep beside me unaware of you
Of your torment night after night
I want him to turn in his sleep

To face me, take me into a lover's knot
Show you my tormentor that you failed
Failed when I was 18, and will fail now I'm 39

But, he sleeps the sleep of the innocent
You keep trying, night after long night
And, I will keep eluding you.

If you looked into a human face, you would see them slowly dying.
Hair turning grey, wrinkles etching deeper.
The body's shell frailer day by day.
A bag of dead and dying cells.
A body doomed to die.
A meat bag held together by bones,
frail, brittle, breakable bones, bone china skeleton.
You would also see a human trying to defy death's clock.
Botox, facelift, eye tuck, tummy tuck, implants.
Makeup and perfume to mask the stench of death.
Shame.
Why fight the inevitable?
Dying to look young.

Fluttering eyelids give away
your quiet slumber in the summer sun.
I wonder what your dreams are made of,
silken memories?gossamer ghosts?
Plundering pirates?

I see the younger you as you sleep,
helpless like a newborn, still as a millpond, but
somber thoughts must have invaded, you've
wrinkled your brow, I lean over and caress your face
you ease back to Lethe, oblivious to my watching.

I want to see the images that are racing through your mind
I want to smother you, until I alone own you, you're mine
I want to rediscover all over again why I fell in love with you
I want to feel that first flush, rush of rapture
I want to know that you want that too.

The summer sun is fading into umber tones
The earth has been warmed, and the lustre of
The day is nearly at an end. Yet, still you slumber.
The sun has taken a somber tone, it's time to wake, go home.
The lover at slumber, needs to become my husband again.

What do you do when all you want is to be elsewhere?
Not, another town, another job, another life,
but elsewhere.
What do you do when a child's scream of enjoyment
makes you start to cry, cry for that child's future disappointment,
your current disappointment?
What do you do when you feel envy at a bird in the sky?
Wanting to float on the thermal, up, up and then away.
But, you and that child who's enjoyment sent you spiralling,
have to remember, Icarus.
He soared away into the sun, that baleful, always watching,
globe of fire.
Purified by death.

Hot summer nights have come around again.
With them my memories of you.
The way you squeeze me close
The smell of your clean sweat and aftershave
The way you look after a hard day at the office
The way you forget to get a haircut
The way you run your hand through your hair
The way you twist your fingers in my curls
The way you taste after a beer
The way you howled in pain at putting our dog to sleep
The way you always know I'm feeling bad
The way you calm me after my rage has taken hold
The way you never argue
The way you dress me, wash me, love me
The way you deal with me, my moods, my MS
The  way you'll stay with me until the end
This I'll know, even when I start to forget

Sweet fragrant offbeat smells and sounds
accost us as we wake in the oversized bed.
Sheets have been crumpled and creased
thrown to floor in a white pure heap.
Your warmth next to me is almost too
much to endure, I can see the sheen of sweat
coming from your very pores.
Sweat created by the Spanish sun and our Spanish fun.

I look around the suite, and sweet memories flood
through me, the heat of the night as we arrived,
dishevelled yet ready to concede with our pleading
bodies. We cannot retreat just surrender to the crisp
white sheets, inviting us in.
How we tried to be discrete, but it was too sweet
we tried to contain our passion, but it was a lost cause.
This was a country used to the rhythm of repeated pleas.

I run my nails down your sweat covered torso
here we are complete, we are one in this, the Spanish sun.
You turn lazily to look at me,I see the fire is still burning
I know I'll get another treat, Latino fiery ness has emboldened us
In this anonymous suite we compete with each other's affections
Like a matador and a bull we display, and play with each other.
Broiling in the sweat covered sheets we concede defeat,
we fall asleep not by the moonlight, but by the blaze of the sun.

Darkness, hides a shallow shadow.
Hiding from bright light.
The shadow moves slowly almost
hallowly along the narrow paths.
Head bent in friarly supplication, but no
kindness or peace follows this hollow shadow,
the shadow follows a dim tallow light
candle flame dim, he knocks at the door
13 Miller's Court, as far from a court could be,
he enters the room, a grate, a kettle, a bed, a settle
a painted doxy, a Catholic cross.
He takes these things in along with the broken pane of glass
the pane of glass will not be the last pain, 13 Miller's Court
will see tonight.

I wondered today if anyone was recording in high definition this World in caution? kisses banned, so’s holding hands, but wash your hands a lot or you might miss to ‘Out that ****’d spot’.

How apt, a spot, a circle, a corona, isn’t that a beer? Let’s all now cheer for key workers, clap for nurses the NHS, let’s forget what started this mess, was it China? A pangolin? A Mandarin?

Conspiracy theories abound, they’re all doing the rounds, oh look it snuck back in, abound, around, they’re all circular sounds, circle back to the start, wash your hands.....’Out that ****’d spot’.

Tonight the moon stalks my steps,
it watches me with baleful stare
daring me to break my pact.

I know it wants a sacrifice
a body laid out on ice.
But I dare to return your stare.

These iron bars cast lines.
Lines I cannot cross.
Crimes enshrined in moonlight.

You stalk my mind, my soul, my dreams.
You keen to me, to be seen.
You beg more bad to be done, you stalk me when there's none.

My life, this pantomime

Today is grey.
Today is cold.
Today is getting old,
soon it will be tomorrow,
but tomorrow never comes.

Tomorrow will be the same.
Tomorrow will be today.
Tomorrow the date only will change,
I'll charge my glass to the coming morrow
Same day same sorrow

Staring through the bottom of a glass
tomorrow is far away.
Tomorrow is not grey, but a whiskey gold
staring at tomorrow through the bottom of a glass
tomorrow is not old, just another day.

Ever thought you had friends you'd know until you die?
I did.
I wish with all my heart that a clock could be rewound,
revisit old mistakes, erase them and rewrite.
Life isn't like that.
Life is a ***** in heat scratching away at mental scabs.
"Friends are the family we choose ourselves"
*******.
It's a fridge magnet quote for a reason.
                        ~
Fickle, feckless,
Replaceable
Idiotic individuals
Endlessly
Needing a
Damn hard
Slap.
* Stepford friends*.

Will I still be your wife in the afterlife?
Will you still stare at me and swear you care?
Will we still declare our love?
After we both know
it was my hand in the glove
that held the knife
that ended your life and stilled our love.

Dumbstruck that the news came
so impersonal, so matter of fact.
A text to say you were leaving.
Forever.

The usual spin on 'it's not you it's me'
Came my way, 'I need to find myself'
'I feel stifled' also got a shoe in.
I was impressed the text was not abbreviated.

When I think back people commented on how handsome
you were, was that a sly dig at me?
Whatever, it's passed now.
Time stands still for no man(so I'm told)

So time to stop grieving at your leaving
Begin anew, start breathing and thinking
for me. By the way thanks for retrieving
Your personal belongings from the flat.

People, you know friends and family
asked how I was, did I need anything?
I was stunned at their curiosity and
kindness, but, told them no.

Well, if you hear from him let us know,
if you want a chat we're here to listen
Oprah says break ups are like bereavements
No need to be brave for us honey.

They leave after getting their gossip
believing I was being stoic, grieving on the inside.
I wasn't, quite the opposite in fact
I felt liberated, unchained, free to be me.

That's what I did you see, became me
I had difficulty heaving your corpse into the garden
but those gym sessions you insisted I take paid off
As did the self defence class, one strike and down you went.

BTW Thanx for the txts, they is well good as alibis.

Dear darling,
I'll take you to bed, I'll have my way with you.
I will make you ache
I will make you shake
I will make you moan
I will make you groan
I will make you hot
I will make you cold
I will make you shake
I will make you shiver
I will make you quiver
I will make you beg me to stop
I will leave you weak
I will make you feel me for days
I will finish when I am sated
You will be left ecstatic when I'm finished.

Yours
The Flu

My hand became yours in marriage
My mind and soul remained mine

Your family should have become mine
My family became yours

Was it that you were the first born?
First born son

I was also a first born
First born daughter

Your mother's talons had dug in deep
Not in you but me

Every look she gave
Every snide remark

I tried nice, I tried too hard
I showed my talons, and my talons were sharper

I cut deep, like a bird of prey
After all mother in law, remember

Only the bride wears white
And a man is a son until he meets his wife.

Tears of joy
Tears of anger
Tears of irritation
Tears of frustration
Tears of laughter
Tears of grief
Such emotion in a drop of salty water.

Never be ashamed of those tiny droplets
they reflect all emotion in a single fall.
Sensitivity, frustration, anger and hope.
Never hold back, and never stop crying at someone's behest.
Tears clean your soul and releases all unhappiness in you.
Tears are your pearls, of wisdom and experience.
Tears, hot coming out, cold going down.

The oceans are all the saline tears of our earth.
Tears, are all our actions and words in an action.
They are words our heart breaks at hearing,
images our eyes cannot bare to see.
Feelings our mind cannot fathom.
Tears are the truth of a sensitive soul set free.

When I became yours and you became mine,
did we think we'd stand the test of time?
Did you think we'd last forever?
That we'd weather all storms together?
When we stood reciting our vows,
did you envisage us in our shrouds?

In front of all we took our turn,
repeating words like herds before.
Now, after ten years wed and fifteen together,
have we melded into each other's oppressor?
We love each other, that is true,
but don't you yearn for when we were unconcerned?

The brutal indifference of living is life.
The brutal truth is I will always be your wife.
We were made to stand the test of time.
What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine.
The brutality of this truth is that it extends
to the afterlife.

Oscillating timekeeper ticks and tocs.
Pendulous seconds bumping time forward on the face of a clock.
Father Time, that Patriarchal chronometer
that martyr, master, commander and observer.
Watch the clock, it's moved forward, did you notice time moving?
Father Time so old, and bearded, a scythe by his side waiting to cull.
Waiting is dull.
Time is a lull, a lullaby before you die.
Cronus never steps back, always marches forwards
and we the human race, suspended in time, and space
watch the clock, wishing more time away with regret,
whilst watching the clocks face.

Did I love you when we first met?
No.
That sounds cold but, truth is often painful.
Was I looking for someone like you?
No.
That is a brutal truth.
Were you persistent?
Yes.
Did you win my heart?
Eventually. With roses? No, with chocolates? No.
You won my heart, by accepting me.
You won me by being you.
I love how our love grew.
I wasn't looking for love, it somehow found me.
Did you write me poems?
No.
Sing me love songs?
No.
Did we have anything in common?
No.
But, love grew, desire bloomed.
We needed each other, we still need and want each other.
Over coffee, Monty Python and a gentlemanly kiss on my cheek
I knew that love was real, it crashed into my heart like a wrecking ball.
Is love like the movies?
Is it *******.
It's more like a Wile E Coyote cartoon.
You bought an ACME love boulder!
Meep meep!

Time spent with you I find precious.
Delicious seconds turn to minutes, turn to hours.
Ours.
I know not what powers brought us together,
only that I'm happy, content and true with you.

Time is fleeting, it's always moving forward,
constantly flowing, and towering between us.
Us.
One plus one, still equals one with us. We are one.
We empower each other, and lift ourselves to the stars.

We find completeness with each other.
Never needing anyone else, others may suffocate
We
Are two halves of one whole.
We devour each other daily, only to return whole.

Twenty four hours later.

As we start this solemn slalom towards a day that ends engorged,
with stomachs bloated whilst we gloated and toasted a perfect day,
let us remember that December has more days than the 25th.

Mass consumerism has voided homemade, love made gifts.
Orange? In a stocking? That is shocking,
the kid asked for an X-box bundle.

Now, I'm not from the distant past, just the 1970's/80's
Where Christmas carols played alongside a Wham's 'last Christmas'
as we ate our immense repast and pulled a sad ******* or two.

Now, gifts are tiny (but show immense expense)
Most perplexing is this new time of year that Kris Kringle
Would undoubtedly mingle slamming a tequila or two!

Now, kitted out in new underwear
(Ironically cherubic rhymes with *****!)
it's time to offer salutations to the incoming year
with no backward glance or hindrance
We say "Happy New Year"

It started with a glance.
An innocuous chanced glance.
Fate is a cruel mistress,
I was just the mistress.
I'm not proud of the fact.
I don't take pride in being your "bit on the side"
Part of me died when you told me you were married.
But, I couldn't stop being with you, that is,
until the glance.

Ever had the feeling that someone is watching you?
Well, I did, and I looked up.
There she was.
The wife.
I felt the colour drain from the room.
I wanted to run, but Karma had plans.
How alike we were, hair, build, our humour
the only difference were our eyes.
Mine, blue, hers brown.

That's how it happened.
A chance glance at a coffee shop.
We chatted, it would seem we both knew of each other.
I didn't know of the pregnancy.
You should have told me.
But then you knew I'd leave.
Mistress to a married man I can live with.
Mistress to a family man? No.
Even a mistress has some standards.

Over coffee and cake we conspired to rid ourselves of you.
The cake was the key.
And they do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.
Anti-freeze or Ethylene Glycol poisoning was chosen.
Embittering agent was nullified by the sweet frosting.
Our combined bitterness made fantastic cakes.
Acute kidney failure in 72 hrs, and, well you were told to stop drinking.
The only questions I really wanted to ask you were,
Do you remember who served you?

Were her eyes brown or blue.