Do You Love Me, Or Just The Idea Of Me?

Do you love me,
Or just the idea of me?

I may be your ‘dream girl’
But I am real,
And that reality is different
From your fantasy.

How often must we fight,
Just to clarify
That you expected
Me to speak differently?

How many tears must fall,
Just to realise
That you expected
Me to be something I’m not?

If you love me,
Please drop your expectations
And open your eyes
To the real me.

My body has blemishes.
I will lose my temper.
I judge unfairly.
I get things wrong. 

I am not perfect,
No one is.
Unless of course,
They’re just a dream.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

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As I

Erotica, R-18+

I want to be under your skin
As I look upon it

I want to know you
As I move inside you

I want to understand your mind
As I taste your flesh

I want to hear your words
As I moan your name

I want to connect with your soul
As I take your body

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

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Let’s Pledge To Repair

I know you care
And that you’ll always be there
But our intimacy?
It’s threadbare
Our bodies are no longer aware of the softness we would once share
It’s unfair
That the first thing to go was caress of one another’s hair
And the impromptu hugs that came from anywhere
No one is to blame
We just became distracted by stress’s snare
And focused on our children’s welfare
I know it’s wrong to compare
But I know we both miss the fanfare
The tender words that would soothe any nightmare
The love we would declare
And the time we would spare
So please
Take my hands
Let’s pledge to repair
To once again become a pair
To take time together no matter where
And no matter what events snare
Let’s swear
To take time daily and simply stare
Into each other’s eyes
Into each others hearts
To see each other bare
Let’s choose to share the same air
To take those gestures now rare
And gift them everywhere
To help each other up the stairs
To listen to the despair
To sit together in prayer
To love
And to be aware
Does that sound fair?

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul’.

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Sacrifices

I wonder if
On the day I finally
‘Make it’
I will regret
The sacrifices
It took
To get there

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Notice Me

I want you
To notice me.

Not for what I have done.
Not for the money I’ve made.
Not even for my art.

No.
I want you to notice me.

Me.

The man behind the artifice.
The man behind the smile.
The man behind the mask.

The man writing these words,
Knowing full well that you will never see them.

The man waiting for change,
Knowing full well that you are stuck in your ways.

The man who’s desperately seeking acknowledgement from a dry well. 

I want you
To notice me.

But I know you won’t.

How could you?

You, who was never there.
You, who looked the other way.
You, who set impossible standards.

You, who never wanted anything to do with me.

Isn’t it funny that despite all of this,
I still want you
To notice me?

Notice me.

Me.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

He Accepts

He accepts the world as it is
Never asking for much
beyond a smile and a hug.

Unruffled by change,
Volume, voice, or visage.
He embraces you for who you are.

Happiness is never far from him.
Small accomplishments
yield disproportionate joy.

Just a look will change his entire world,
And in doing so cause
His unfiltered response to change yours.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

A Requiem For What Could Have Been

Last night
I dreamt
Of my father’s death

The slow pathetic decline
Of a worthless man
Was reformed into
A noble sacrifice
A resilient stand against oppression
An act to be proud of

I knew I was dreaming
Yet I preferred to remain
Bamboozled and blinded
By the beautiful facade

In the dream
I wept freely
For a man
I understood
Cared about
And loved

In my memories
I grew distant
From a man
I didn’t understand
Care about
Or love

I woke conflicted

Are my dreams
Telling me
That my memories
Are fiction?

That the feelings
Felt in the facade
Are more fact
Than the fear
And confusion?

Or perhaps
I’m only questioning
Because
My reality was retched

And that dream
Like others of it’s kind
Are a requiem
For what could have been

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Red Flag Chaser

I’m a red flag chaser
A self-debaser
That tattooed look
Leaves me shook
Dabbling in drugs
With ‘caring’ thugs
Incredible sex
For the brain hex
Insightful conversations
Just distracted ruminations
Same toxic pattern
From abstinent to slattern
A mirror’s shame
Only myself to blame
Left alone and burnt
No lesson learnt
I get off on the thrill
Of you losing your chill
I hate when you insist
With a scream and a fist
But it’s worth the pain
To feel like myself again
A childhood’s toll
Red flags make me whole
The end of another fight
This is love, right?

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

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God's Love

*** Trigger Warning ***

He told me I was special,
And gave me all the perks.
Held my hand through prayer,
And showed me how the system works.

He said it would be our little secret,
Kept between him, me, and God.
Told me that I was a good boy.
Summoned me with that little nod.

He taught me what was holy.
To trust in the divine word.
That my doubts were of the devil,
To not trust in the absurd.

He spoke of the afterlife,
Spewing words of eternal damnation.
The trials of earth trivial,
Compared to the day of revelation.

He showed me how a soft caress,
Can feel like the stab of a demon.
That he held all the power,
And that God’s love tastes like semen.

He demonstrated the church’s power,
By denying all my accusations.
How could a priest be sullied,
By a young boy’s fabrications?

He was eventually punished,
They moved him to a new town.
Gave him a new flock,
Other boy’s souls to drown.

He died as he lived,
Safe and admired,
Protected by his brethren,
A biblical patriarchy conspired.

He left me broken,
Mind, body, soul.
What he did destroyed my faith,
Leaving me not whole.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

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love notes written in flesh

bite marks
are love notes
written in flesh

physical poetry
carved onto skin
just waiting to be read

the body
made into a canvas
of aesthetic pleasures

a homage
to the ecstasy
of submission

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.