Untitled Winter Verse

There's a harsh beauty in her
her fairer sister can never hope to possess.
It can't be replicated 
only worn in over time 
like a fine patina
Stews of rich red wine with 
musky herbs of depth and desire 
added slowly over time

A beauty that creeps on you 
like a dreich November fog
Settling the silence of a soft Sunday lie in.

Tea, toast and icy cuddles

(image by dark777fairy)

The Next In Line

The next in line
When they ran out the straight white teeth.

The next in line
as they dished up the last self belief.

The next in line
When they ran dry on artistic flair.

When they gave out muscles,
I wasn’t even there.

The next in line
When the luck ran dry.

The next in line
When they showed you how to cry.

None of that matters.

I pulled of the greatest coup,

Because I was first in line for you.


Poem for my Kitten

She's always right
and loves to smile
when you are wrong
and in denial.
She'll always get you in the end
no matter how you may defend.

You'll never change
the way she says
That she writes the rules,
she runs the plays.
In matters of her heart
you're already winning by taking part.

You'll never own a Kitten
Not even for a day
But if you treat them well,
there's a chance that they might stay.

This might seem tough, it may seem hard
but what is plain to see.
Is that there's nothing quite as sweet
as love that's given free.