• Words

    A dainty kind of desire

    I am wistful for you, a dainty kind of desire, an easy to keep in a pocket desire. Lacy, pointy and elegant, associated with sighs and a drooping head, it glances up from eyes partly hidden under hair. Discrete comings, stifled yelps quickly turned to a laugh to cover itself. But what is growing in me now is a need that roars its demands through pounding blood and throbbing tissue A craving girl who will not be denied. Whose mouth is permanently open to receive and from which moans, groans and gutteral grunts emerge as if torn from a mooring deep inside her that no longer serves. I want you.…

  • Me,  Moments,  Words

    Unraveling

    It’s hard to unpick the fabric of lives that have been woven together for over a quarter of a century. Initially there is a tear, maybe a small one in a corner that doesn’t show. Perhaps it gets darned, perhaps not. Perhaps someone sticks a finger into the hole and makes it bigger. Perhaps it is just simply ignored or covered up in the hope that it will go away. But ultimately the fabric is weakened, and unless a timely repair is made it will not last. I was, and am, a skilled seamstress. Not so good at knitting. But when it came to weaving a life I could pull…