"Nothing is sacred" you said, ask away....

Favourite band, colour, song, film, book, poet, author,the list went on
Favourite food, soda, cocktail, ****** position, animal, vegetable, fruit, smell, season, singer, songwriter, tv show..

This endless list of inane questions, hiding the one stuck in my throat like bitter bile.

"What do you see in him?"

Thats the big money question, the answer eludes me whenever I see you together.
Maybe your dappled green sees beauty where my clear blue sees too much ego.
Maybe your heart sings when he kisses your forehead, while my lips ache for the chance.

He doesn't see you, not really, not the you that howls with laughter, head back, snorting with each inhale.
Not the you that pulls weird faces when I take serious calls.
Not the you that I wish was mine...

Only mine.

He makes you different...
Quiet, subdued, Stepford wife.
A good girl. A closed book.
Ignoring his eyes while they wander,
as you avoid the love so obviously in mine.

"Ask me anything" tripped off your tongue
While your expression and the way you shifted said
"Just don't ask me that"

Nothing is sacred.
Except you.

That cut grass smell, freshens the morning
reminding me of your visit.
How you rolled in it with my boy
as he shouted "Grass fight!!" and you bellowed the theme from Dambusters,
a tied sheet your makeshift cape
as his laughter sent other birds to flight.
How you told him that you were 5 too.. but descended from giants
his eyes widening at the mystery of you, this woman-child with hair of fire.
You entertained us with ease and drove out sadness with bad knock knock jokes and good candy.
I knew in that moment that life was good.
He knew in that moment that it was ok to just be him..... because you were just you.

A cool breeze ripples shades,
as long shadows loom,
chill air a lovers touch
on sun drenched skin.

Eyes half closed
I float, 
dreaming upon a tide of blissful shivers.

Seeing stars, constellations blinding
as a universe collapses within.
Laboured breath
gives way to pleasure's voice unfettered.
My mind unrepentant,
as velvet is tipped.

My darling you could keep my heart in your locker
but your Dad is a wrestler, your brothers are Dockers,
so on our hot lovin' they have put the mockers
'cause I  don't have the guts to face violent cockblockers.

You like to take selfies
You sure like to ROFL
You taught me of two girls, one cup and blue waffles
Your knowledge is endless on things such as these
If only your brothers weren't so hard to please.

They think I'm a man *****, a bounder, a cad,
a love shy lothario, a bit of a "lad"
on this I won't argue, the point is well made
but I'm young (ish) and ***** and like to get laid.

They think you're an angel
but that's not the case
'cause the photos you sent me
were not of your face....

I watch you sleeping,
Impossibly long eyelashes, black as rooks
flutter against yesterday's sun blushed cheeks,
small digits twitching,
right thumb firmly in mouth
suckling salt soaked skin.

You are the sea my boy,
the earth, the moon and stars.

I sip at my coffee,
eyed by Spiderman
as the Joker grins
and the Riddler envies Dr Seuss.

This moment is perfection,
a little bit of calm
before the tornado hits
with the blue of your eyes.