He told me he is giving her roses.

The boy, who yesterday I finally admitted I love.

The boy, who the day before that , kissed me.

The boy, who a week before that told me I was his forever, and I said the same.

The boy, who has my heart.

Is giving her roses...

While reading an article last night about fathers and sons, memories came flooding back to

the time I took me son out for his first pint.

Off we went to our local pub only two blocks from the cottage.

I got him a Guinness.  He didn't like it, so I drank it.

Then I got him a Kilkenny's, he didn't like that either, so I drank it.

Finally, I thought he might like some Harp Lager?   He didn't.   I drank it.

I thought maybe he'd like whiskey better than beer so we tried a Jameson's, nope!

In desperation, I had him try that rare Redbreast,Ireland's finest.   He wouldn't even smell it.

What could I do but drink it!

By the time I realized he just didn't like to drink, I was so feckin ****-faced I could hardly

push his pram back Home.

Do you feel better now?
Now that you think you've figured me out?
Found out what makes me tick?
One hand clasped around my throat.
The other tangled in my hair
Pulling my head back so I'm forced to look in your eyes
So you can control me
So you can make me love you
Red marks on the backs of my thighs
A strict set of rules so you'll never worry
Punishment and reward
Equal gratification
All those things you want from me
That you can gain from tying my wrists together
Leaving rope burns across my stomach
Alone in a room
Exposed and waiting for you to come back
And love me
Just like I did to you
But in such a different way
You say that you're dominant
And that I'm the submissive one
Yet you want to jump right in
And I'm going to consider our options
Because your inexperience
Doesn't blend well with my needs
You can't collar me just to say you did
You have to mean it
And you don't know what it means to mean it

the doctor said i have a fatty liver
so i started drinking straight *****
to cut down on carbs

Youre a cliff hanger
At the end of the book
Making me hate you
Yet beg for more

Youre the ocean
Beneath the ridge
First Catching
Then drowning me
In an endless pit

You are the lightning
In the night sky
Illuminating my life
Then burning me down

You are these things
Because once upon a time
You were the place
The north star led to.
You were my home.

But what would life be like without these encounters?
The spark of passion ignites that which is supreme in the patina of our days, of our years, of our very being.
It comes and it goes...but in going it hovers in a spangled irridescence just beyond the now and endures in this special place, until the day we die.
M.