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....

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.

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.

In her sea of unrequited love I am flotsam—
not even wreckage with a story,
just something left behind,
adrift.

She is the water that carries me,
cool and untouchable,
vast and shining,
indifferent to the fragments she holds.

I do not sink—
that would be release.
I float,
caught in eddies of hope,
drawn near by a glance,
pushed away by silence.

There is no harbour,
no shore with arms outstretched.
Only the endless drift
beneath skies that never speak,
toward nothing,
from everything I once believed.

I am the forgotten,
the unchosen,
the still-loyal shard of something
she never meant to keep—
But can’t quite let go

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.

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  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.

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.

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.

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.

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.