She says, "All men betray,"
a curse she hurls away.
Not every soul she's known,
but one made grief her own.

He was her single light,
her moon against the night.
He cracked trust’s fragile seam,
and "all" became her scream.

One minute after midnight,
I stumbled out of the pub.
A young woman blocked my way.
“Stop,” she said.
“Yes, dear,” I answered.
Then she told me,
“I think you’re the one my heart wants.”
I grinned,
“Look behind you.”
She turned.
I added,
“See? That proves I’m not the one.”
And I kept walking,
thinking maybe it wasn’t wisdom at all
just the whisky talking.

A pillow princess, soft, aware,
her sigh a spell, her breath a prayer.
Emerald eyes, half-closed, half-known,
a feline grace that is her throne.
She blooms by touch, by whispered plea,
a lover’s gift, ecstasy.
Silken threads of longing bind,
a vow half-spoken, left behind.
Beneath the jest, a spirit kind,
playful, daring, yet refined.
In shadows deep her fire grows,
a purring secret no one knows.
Respect her still, with tender hand,
with grace that few can understand.
For yielding too is sovereign art,
a gift of trust, a sovereign heart.
For we are cats—wild, yet tamed,
our longings caged, yet never shamed.
A touch received, a gaze that stays
the princess reigns in softer ways.
And pardon—yes, I am a man.
I learned to cherish all I can:
to honor giving, fierce, forgiving,
by learning well the art of receiving.

Your absence aches.
Your presence calms.
The pendulum between the two
beats the rhythm of my lungs.
You are the air.

Knuckles call the night, the dark throat swells, echoes wail.

Your face, dawn's whisper, shatters this shadowed silence.

Knock, and I am whole again.

Upon whose shoulder shall I rest this night,
In winter's chill, with shadows deep and white?
If warmth departs, and comfort takes its flight,
You, only you, can banish winter's blight.

A whispered dream, a solace soft and true,
Held close within your arms, forever new.
You are the haven, where my spirit's hue,
Reflects the world, in colours bright and true.

You, in my heart, a tapestry of grace,
With roses woven, in a tender embrace.
A love entwined, a bond beyond compare,
Where whispered words, and silent moments share,
A world of wonder, filled with love's sweet air.

Naughty me, forgive the jest,
My magic watch won’t let me rest.
It whispers secrets, sly and sweet,
Of what you wear beneath the sheet.
Yet strange—it tells me none at all,
Perhaps it runs ten minutes tall.
So shall we dance, my daring catch,
To the ticking of my watch
Or let my heart set out the beat,
Where time and reason both retreat?
For both, I swear, make madness true,
And both, my love, now point to you.