"It'll never amount to owt"
As they say in Yorkshire.
"Ahh mean, 'ers 'int love wit 'ere ole man
'Ant thou's married too!
Giv ova 'ant grow a pair son....."

"I know, don't you think I've been thru this a million times in my heart and head"?
"But I can't give up on her, I haven't told her my feelings, I couldn't.... She'd run a mile, and I'd lose a friend, my heart would shatter into a trillion pieces"

"Aye, but 'ere know thou's sweet 'ont 'ere"
"Lassies know such things"

"But she teases me, leads me on,flirts with me, manipulates my heart".


"Nowt good will come of it I'm tellin' ye,
It'll all end 'int tears...probably yers too"

"I know that at my age I should know betta,
But no age is exempt to love"
I cling to hope,
Each and any crumb that might Indicate that she'll allow me to hold her in my arms
And kiss her..."

"So take your Yorkshire logic,
Your Northern pragmatism,
I can't see the wood for the trees in this 'affair' I know
But I live in hope that one day
She'll tell me that she loves me..."

I could write you a poem but it would never be good enough, for you are a poem

I could write that you are beautiful but my words wouldn't do you justice.

I could write how important and special you are but your value exceeds human understanding.

I could write how wonderful your mind is but my vocabulary is insufficient and weak

I could write how **** you are,
That my body belongs to you,
But my body, my self is unworthy
of you

I want to tell you how deeply I love you
But I'm unable to describe the depth of the oceans

You are the collective works of Yeats, Keats, Shelley and Tennyson.

My lovelorn heart is full of passion after sharing time with you.

I want to dress you in sensuous  words of love & disrobe you with dancing fingers of passion.

Every contour of your face is etched in lines of love on my bursting heart.
Waiting to be translated in kisses should you allow.

The nape of your neck invites my attention
Her jewellery embellishes its kissability and tantisizes my fantasies.

I hang on  every word...
Watching, ****** like as your tongue  and lips form words.


Your spell upon me was cast millennium ago but I never knew it
I feel it coursing through my veins
Like a embalming drug, chilling​ me to my marrow with desire

She is my addiction and I'll never have enough....

In the quiet shadows of shared glances and unspoken words, our emotional affair unfolds like verses woven into the fabric of clandestine emotions.

A dance of feelings painted in hues of secrecy, where the lines blurred between what was said and what lingered in the unsaid.

Each stolen moment a stanza etched in the margins of our lives, a prose poem of longing and connection, composed in the delicate syntax of stolen time.

Amidst the ache of unrequited love, my heart still finds solace in the beauty of our connection, even if it remains one-sided. I'll cherish the moments we shared, even if they were fleeting, for they brought warmth to my soul and left an indelible mark on my heart.

Its the way she looks into my eyes....
Standing there she talks to the three of us staring into my eyes...
Through me, into my soul,
Radiation, that burns the chambers of my aching heart...
Burning away any doubts I had of her feelings & sending me once again tumbling into an oblivion of passion.
And then she’s gone!
Her trap has sprung!
Once more she has me trapped in her web of longing...
Woven and
Hooked on loves longing.

She  has ignited a fire in my heart
That previously was a smouldering ember, barely alight
She has sparked a fire that consumes,flares and roars when ever I say her name or think of her

Her laughter fans the blaze
A smile that chars my soul
Fingertips leave stigmata upon my skin and kisses scald my lovelorn heart.
This fire is out of control, love it’s fuel
And my passion it’s heat.

Her words piece my heart leaving a luminous stain which spread  like a red dye of passion flooding through my veins until every corpuscle glowed with a radiant luminosity of love for her.

Staring into my eyes gently she fanned these embers of love within me into flames that consumed my soul.
Words formed by her are indistinguishable.
As my heart takes control of my conscious brain

Let me enfold you in my arms!
Tenderly smother your cheeks with kisses, smell your hair and whisper words of love.
Oh but we could be together, sharing our remaining years-My Queen!
My destiny!
My eternity!!

In the gentle embrace of a sun-kissed evening, Her presence becomes the very essence of enchantment. Her laughter, like a melody in the wind, dances with the graceful cadence of a thousand twinkling stars. Her eyes, two deep pools of blue, hold secrets only whispered to the moon, leave me lost in their captivating allure.

Every step she takes leaves an imprint on my heart, a path of warmth and tenderness. In her touch, I find solace, a connection that transcended the realms of ordinary existence. Time seems to slow in her company, as if the universe conspires to savor every stolen moment.

Her spirit, a delicate blend of strength and vulnerability, radiates a magnetic charm that draws me closer, like a moth to the flickering flame. The way she cares for others, with genuine kindness and empathy, paints her as an angel among mortals, a beacon of compassion.

Each gesture, each word she speaks, paints vivid portraits of affection on the canvas of my soul. And in the quiet corners of my mind, I dream of moments yet to come, where love would bloom like a garden of roses, and our hearts would entwine like vines in an eternal embrace.
I speak ofAnn, a name whispered in the silence of my thoughts, it carries the promise of a love story destined to be etched in the stars, forever bound in the timeless tale of two souls entwined in love's sweet embrace.

The priest will never marry us
and my mom will never know you
but I can kiss you over a mug of  tea and dance with you under the stars and if that isn't marriage I'm not sure what God is looking for...

In the quiet chambers of my soul, a fervent flame dances, fueled by the whispered winds of her name.

Each heartbeat echoes the symphony of my longing, an inferno ignited by the tender spark of her presence.

Embers of passion glow in the verses of my soul's prose,
a timeless poem etched in the language of devotion,
burning brightly with the intensity of a thousand suns.

She holds my heart securely within her grasp
Thus far she has no knowledge of her potency.
For her to have awareness of her cradling
My ardour, my affections,
May risk an arrest of  my hearts loving palpitations
For she may leave,
And then my hearts light would be extinguished.

I hear your spirit so clearly my love
It bawls at my heart and my soul  
Telling me that you are the one for me
You take  hold of me with talons of passion that have ensnared every ounce of my flesh and spirit .
Please take me my sweet
Devour me, all of me, gaze at this beating heart I hold precious for you.

Life without you is death
Death within you is eternal life
I just desire to exist in the invisible, unspoken love that I have for you.

My days of laughter have slipped away, like sunlight caught in a wave, bright for a moment then lost to the deep.

Once, joy was found  in every corner—a child’s secret smile, the pulse of music in crowded rooms, the thrill of chasing a breeze through open windows.
Holidays,trips to the seaside long since past.

Now, the echoes are faint, hollow notes where melodies once sang. I walk through the same streets, the same rooms, but the colours have dimmed, the voices have softened.

The fun, the careless abandon, the rush of forgetting the weight of the world—they have packed up quietly, leaving only the stillness, the memories, and longing.

Now I wait in this quiet longing,wondering if the light might return, or if I must learn to dance with the shadows of memory instead.

Wind, you who dance through the world with no barriers, who knows the secrets of every leaf and every whispered breath—hear me now.

As you brush against my skin, gentle and unseen, I ask you to carry my love, delicate as a feather, to the one who holds my heart in secret.

Let my kisses be your passengers, riding on your back like tiny whispers of the soul, traveling through the unseen paths between us.

Move with the grace of a lover’s touch, through fields of wildflowers and over rivers that shimmer like dreams. Slip through the night’s velvet cloak, and find the one who is mine in thought but far in presence

Surround her with the warmth of my longing, the softness of my affection, until they feel the invisible embrace of my heart.

Tell her nothing, wind, for this love is ours to hold close and quiet. Simply let my kisses fall like petals at her feet, like stars at her window, until she is surrounded by all that I am and all that I give.

Her sneers cut like invisible razors,
slivers of disdain slicing through the air,
the silence swelling with unspoken judgments.

Each twist of her lip is a verdict,
a dismissal of the things I am,
a shadow cast over the fragile corners
where I hold my own worth.

Her eyes, sharp as broken glass,
reflect nothing of me,
only the cold echo of her discontent,
a tide that pulls my spirit under.

I feel it in my chest—
a tightness,
as though the air around me
is hers to withhold,
and I am left gasping
in the storm of her unkindness.

Yet still, I stand,
weakened but unbowed,
seeking in the ruins of her scorn
some thread of strength
that does not rely on her mercy.

My heart floats in the hollow between beats,
a weightless thing, neither here nor gone,
left in the purgatory of almosts and maybes.

Time drips slow, like sap from a wounded tree,
every second stretched thin,
every breath a whisper of what could be.

Hope dangles, fragile and frayed,
a spider’s thread trembling in the wind,
unsure if it will hold or snap
under the weight of a longing unspoken.

I do not bleed, I do not weep—
I simply linger,
caught in this timeless pause,
my heart in suspended animation,
waiting for the whisper of her touch,
the warmth of her voice,
to pull me back to life.

The sky is the colour of well-worn bedsheets,
greyed and softened by countless washes,
a damp washing line kind of grey,
the kind that clings to the air
before a drizzle starts,
or after it ends,
and the world is still dripping.

Not the bright, hopeful white
of freshly laundered linen,
snapping in a summer breeze.
No, this is the grey of a Monday morning,
of a forgotten promise,
of a lukewarm cup of tea.
It's the grey that seeps into your bones,

It settles in your shoulders.
makes you want to pull the covers
back over your head
and pretend the day
hasn't quite begun.
But even this grey,
this damp, heavy grey,
has its own kind of beauty.

A quiet strength.
a muted dignity.
It's the colour of waiting,
of slow, steady growth,
of the earth breathing
beneath a blanket of clouds.