It may be time to move on.
A notebook of spidery poems. A much fingered rosary of memories. A green acorn brimming with life. A black and white photograph of a smile. A hatful of songs. The key to a heart. A blindfold and a rope. A loaf of crusty new bread, A hunk of sweet mountain cheese. A bottle of companionable red wine.
This journey was meant to help me fill the hole in my heart. It was meant to take me home.
On the way I discovered, unwrapped, worshipped and then lost Beauty,
I found temporary erotic solace in rewarding the enduring submissive yearning of another.
I enjoyed more than one ‘distance’ D/s relationship – each of which, like all ‘distance’ D/s – somehow fell away. Yet each had its moments of breathless magic.
I made my peace with the woman who I will always love.
And yet I still find myself hungry for something I can no longer define. I am still utterly bewitched by beauty wherever and whenever I find it. I am still captivated by intelligence, warmed by generosity, unmanned by kindness, charmed by creativity, softened by sensitivity, and drawn by women who have a sexually submissive soul.
And yet my words, unlike the winter-swollen river, seem to have run dry.
Even though I have reached the sea
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Anne Magill