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I will use you

Art by Marcos Beccari

I will use you

Every inch of you.

Your luscious skin, your gorgeous hair, your cheekbones, your eyes, your nose, your mouth. The elegant line of your jaw, your throat, your neck. Your sensual curves, The stunningly sexy shape of your breasts. Your nipples (so easily aroused).

Your back, your belly, your arse, your legs, your ankles, your calves, your thighs. Your arms, your hands, your fingers, your feet, your oh-so-prettily painted toes.

The delicate, exquisite, perfect folds of your sex.

I will use you.

Your glorious curve of your smile. The joyful, soft peal of your laughter. The way you move, the way you eat, the way you talk. The way you say my name. The way you dance. Oh god, the way you dance.

I will use you.

Your thoughts, your hopes, your dreams, your imagination. How you analyse, how you consider, how you (sometimes over) react. The way you care. Your honesty, your loyalty, your charity, your generosity, your charm. Your temper, your obstinacy, your tenacity, your strength. Your sometimes stubborn frown. Your warmth.

Your tears sliding hot and unchecked down your lovely face.

I will use you.

Your clothes, your shoes, your scent, your make up, your jewellery. The toys you keep at the back of a bedside drawer.

Your music, your books, your art, your films. The (often rubbish) things you watch on TV. Your work, your hobbies, your interests, your exercise. How you spend your days. Your food, your drink, your wine.

The things that excite you, arouse you, frighten you, sadden you, disturb you. The things that make you want to be hugged.

I will use you.

Every amazing, challenging, wonderful, infuriating, incredible, shy, breathtaking part of you.

Everything that makes you unique, rare and special.

I will use you.

And I will write you.

My heroine, my fantasy, my main protagonist, my key character.

The star of the show.

The woman at the very heart of it.

And you alone, all by yourself, will make it magnificent.

You will turn my untidy jumble of words

into a masterpiece.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written two years ago – yet there is always beauty to make into poetry

Art by Marcos Beccari

 
11 Comments

Posted by on August 19, 2018 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Shape

 

You have a body

that would stop me

mid conversation

my eyes following you

across the room

storing the image

to later shape

into poetry.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Annick Bouvattier

 
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Posted by on August 18, 2018 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Butterfly Net

Pieter Wagemans

Butterfly Net

.

She reads him avidly

hungrily

looking for patterns

for answers

for hints

for clues

for oxygen to fuel

the breathless possibility

that she might be ‘she’

.

Meanwhile

he chases her soul

with a butterfly net

spun from the best

of his words

to capture her

completely.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Pieter Wagemans

This is not new – posted three years ago at least. But I still have the butterfly net somewhere.

 
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Posted by on August 17, 2018 in Still Life, Poetry

 

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Should be a word

 

There should be a word

for that strange feeling you get

when you know

someone is looking

at every single post

you have ever written.

 

(In this case

someone in Spain)

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Mark Spain (unconnected)

 
10 Comments

Posted by on August 16, 2018 in Poetry, Still Life, Uncategorized

 

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Realization

Art by Michael Liepke

Suddenly

she realises

her pulse racing

her heart pounding

her mouth dry

her thoughts tumbling

over themselves

dangerously

that she

is the one he wants

that she

is his fantasy.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Michael Liepke

Written a couple of years ago. Yet sometimes relevant.

 

 
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Posted by on August 16, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

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Not all lives matter to me

ALL lives matter

It is not a cliché. Or a slogan. Or a wish. It is a truth.

Whatever sex, shade of skin, home country or country of origin, sexual orientation, religion, age, background, wealth or poverty, tribe, social standing, class or caste.

ALL lives matter.

Not only do all lives matter. But they all matter EQUALLY.

Nobody but nobody, is better or more important than anyone else.

But whoever you are, wherever you are in the world, if other innocent lives matter so little to you that you are prepared to kill, maim, rape, bully, terrorise, harass, subjugate or damage other lives …

Then your life does not matter to me

Not one little bit.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote and posted this last year. Nothing much has changed. All lives still matter.

Photograph taken from the web. I was going to use photos of flag waving ISIS extremists or American white supremacists or similar from elsewhere, but I could not bear to look at their foul hate filled faces.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on August 15, 2018 in Still Life, Uncategorized

 

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Without touching

 

He touches her

without touching her.

 

He holds her

without holding her.

 

He knows her

without knowing her.

 

He calls her

and her soul answers.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Caterina Pelle

 
7 Comments

Posted by on August 14, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

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