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More than I could bear

25 Mar

Blue Denim

The church bells are ringing.

Tuesday is practice night for the faithful and unfaithful campanologists. The peal is uneven, discordant and untidy. A novice is hauling the rope. The sound disturbs the silence. The evenings are usually so quiet here.

I sip my wine. It is nothing special. A syrah grape without provenance, but it fills my mouth with blackberry, and pepper, and smoke. And summer. And memories of her.

She was far too young for me. A child when measured against my grey hair and dark experience. And yet she touched me in a way that few have ever done.

She was lithe and slender and had eyes that saw beyond the obvious, She was as sharp as a glass shard and far cleverer than she realised. Her demeanour was a mixture of swagger and vulnerability. She had the face of a model and the bewitching smile of a girl. She pretended that she was five foot six, but she wasn’t. Her legs were breathtaking, her breasts spectacular on such a petite frame.

She was as heavenly as sin.

She gave herself to me with poetic solemnity and a glorious sense of drama. In retrospect, I think she meant it. She lived for the moment and, just then, with her head bowed, I was the moment.

I am a master of discipline, manipulation and control. But I’m not sure I could ever have tamed her.

She was a wild and wayward spirit.

I don’t know what has made me think of her. Perhaps the confusion of bells, the wine in my mouth, spring rising, the overwhelming certainty that evening is descending on me fast these days.

We drifted apart.

I am glad we did.

She would have only disappointed me.

And that would have hurt

More than I could bear.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Thomas Saliot

 

 

 
18 Comments

Posted by on March 25, 2014 in D/s, Lovers Past

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

18 responses to “More than I could bear

  1. Terranova (@terranova0988)

    March 25, 2014 at 8:53 pm

    Ah…those who touch us so deeply are not easily forgotten. They tend to leave their footprints on our souls. I like to think that means we always get to carry a little piece of them with us wherever they go. Tis always a comfort.

    Like

     
    • Romantic Dominant

      March 25, 2014 at 10:44 pm

      Yes. A small piece to help us through the winter days. Thank you for treading and commenting

      Like

       
  2. b.l. ronan

    March 25, 2014 at 9:02 pm

    It is so very wonderful to be drenched in the power of your words. beautiful as ever. X

    Like

     
  3. lesliemeeks

    March 25, 2014 at 9:06 pm

    The memories that come back to us when we least expect them too. She must have really touched your soul. It’s always a pleasure reading about your past loves. Beautifully written Mr. D.

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  4. Joseph McNamara

    March 25, 2014 at 9:57 pm

    And here you are…mindful this early spring evening, with the breath of the vine, in remembrance of that pinch of sin from heaven that captivated, just for a moment in time, your sensuous recollections of a coveted instance in life… I am mindful of “For Whom the Bell Tolls” – so very nice of you to share…

    Like

     
  5. moonbug2013

    March 26, 2014 at 12:22 am

    Enjoy your wine
    Sweetened by the memories
    Of a beautiful woman
    Captivating as the dusk
    Thank you for sharing

    Like

     
  6. redklwr2006 Kym

    March 26, 2014 at 1:18 am

    And your words have brought to my mind memories from my youth where I was that girl…. I do hope his musings as poetic as yours…

    Like

     
  7. Heartafire

    March 26, 2014 at 1:36 am

    There is a life force in your writing, a raw vitality, ice melting on a hot surface. Thank you Mr. D.

    Like

     
  8. gemini

    March 26, 2014 at 11:14 am

    Memories can be so sweet…

    Like

     
  9. Reticent Mental Property

    March 27, 2014 at 12:06 am

    Always leave the party while you are still having fun….

    Like

     

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