Moments

 

It was in those moments

The smallest

Most telling

Moments

That I was most sure of you

 

The moment our chests deflate

After fits of laughter

Sitting cross-legged

On the common room floor

 

The moment we all collapse home

From collective exhaustion

From the splendour and awe

The night gifted us

 

The moment our quartet sings in unexpected unison

To songs we never knew we could recite

The moment the most mundane tasks

Together are filled with bursts of delight

 

The moment when you feel

Shockingly vulnerable

And yet fundamentally safe

It is in that sweet paradox

 

It is in those moments

The smallest

Most telling

Moments

That I am most sure of us

 

This is a home.

Born of The Same Star

 

Our kiss held the perfect balance of

Swirling excitement

And

Giddish nerves

That ignited life back into every cell of my body,

The type of kiss that travels through you;

That takes you over

And leaves you breathless and disorientated.

 

What a power you have over me.

 

T’was as if

Before our kiss

The universe was preparing me for you,

As if God was leaving a trail of bread crumbs

To your lips.

O, my sweet sin, my glorious salvation

May my lips know nothing more than your touch.

 

All the moments before

Echoed promises of some sweet delight

Soon to greet me,

I saw three rainbows that week

And the moon was full of wondrous

Anticipation

Of loves tender arrival.

 

Passion is the nectar of the Angels,

Some say,

And our fire left the heavens rejoicing.

The sky withheld no beauty,

Looking up at the dazzling stars

Your eyes were all I could see.

Truly beguiling;

The shine and sparkle of your hazel hues

Became my constellations

My personal galaxy.

 

Time was immeasurable

Within the capsule of your embrace,

I felt my forever in that moment

As I learnt love’s breath and taste.

I felt my forever in your arms,

Unravelling a pre-ordained truth.

 

Our connection is rudimentary

Cultivated from afar,

Our souls were born of the same star.

 

The poetry of heaven;

The jewels of night

We, our love, are of that celestial light.

The Corrupted Wordsmith

Who would win in a battle

Of brain against brawn?

When your flesh becomes your only weapon

To defend the scorned.

 

The scorned being you,

Humiliated and impassioned

And in need of retribution

By any means.

 

But in this world

You are provided with only one

Where guns and knives are at the hands of none

When in the game of vengeance

 

The choice is yours, young fellow

The rules are quite clear and concise

You may have brawn or you may have brain

Physical strength or wisdom’s gains

 

Many a fool chose brawn

As blind fury can lead one to believe

That physical injuries will suffice

That blood and gore is what you need.

 

But I, a wordsmith, of the venomous sort

Know more of the delightful damage my words can do

I have just the thing to leave a sting,

The enduring tormenting kind

 

If the brain is something that interests you.

 

If so, I can assist you in your malefic endeavours

Teach you the power of mental wounds

Skill you in the art of breaking a heart

Without breaking a sweat.

 

I know how to kill a person

From the inside out

The type of pain they can never treat

The type of death they can never escape

 

I know of a death that greets you every waking hour

That will paralyse and steal your life

Until it is nothing

But a succession of torment, that you are forced to relive & relive

 

Now, if that is something that interests you, fine fellow,

I am just the wordsmith for you

Brute force can get you so far, but

With brains, with me, words can get you the rest of the way.

 

The choice is always yours.