If I Were To Marry You

If

I were

To

Marry you

And

There’s

Every chance

I might

I would expect

Devotion

No

Headache

Late at night

And

Just in case

You

Are

Unaware

Let me

Make it

Clear

I would

Demand

Civility

No

Back word

Glare

Or

Sneer

I would require

Domesticity

A home

Needs

A woman’s touch

Don’t fuss

Or

Bother me,

I

Wouldn’t like that

Very much

And

In the evening

Please be dressed

I simply

Abhor a slob

After all

I have a

Reputation

To uphold

You

Must see

My dear

Its

Very clear

Mine’s

An important

Sort of job

Oh…

And

At weekends

After golf

When I stand

Before the

Fire

Don’t

Tire me

With your prattle

With

What might

Have filled your

Day

Instead

Lay down

Your

Sweet

Sweet

Head

Soft

Upon our marriage

Bed

And wait

Wait

Until

You hear

Your lord and master

Drawing near

My tread fall

Light

Upon the stair

And

Then

And only then

Let me have

The best of you

Naked

Rampant

The zest of you

And

We will splay

All

Inhibition bare

You will

Suck me

Fuck me

I

Don’t care

Then

Let me have

My rest

And

I will take you

First thing

In the morning

For that’s

When I’m

At

My best



So then…



My goodly wife to be

If

You play

The wanton whore

Set

My heart

Beating like a drum

Then

I can

Safely say

‘Pon your birthday

Once

A year

I

Might

Let you cum

Blood Red Wine (A Love STory)

From the first moment I was completely captivated by her; she was exquisite, perfect and beautiful. Beautiful woman have a quiet serenity, a floating, graceful confidence. I watched spellbound, drinking in her every move and gesture.

As I drank deeply of her, myriad rainbows flashed, scattering light over her long auburn hair, stars swirled in rolls of curls like a wild mane of fiery light dancing across buttermilk shoulders. I had become so enchanted by her that it became impossible for me to look anywhere in that vast gallery without finding myself constantly meeting her assured gaze.

We had met and fallen in love forever in that first exchange, in an instant, in the blinking of our eyes, without one word needing to be spoken. She filled my mind with only thoughts of her, she became my art, she became the music and the colour within every word I would write, every stroke upon every canvas.

Love, or more truthfully this love, became a new palette of hitherto unimagined colours. She wrote me as words in her story; she spoke of love, breathed life into my life. Her words lost to me as I swam in pools of darkest blue only midnight away. Floating in that darkness through the night of dancing dreams came the dawn that would toss us anew upon a golden shining shore. Breathing kisses wave over wave.

She poured wine, from a tall silver pitcher.

Sweet red

Blood red

Red

Red red wine