I am a sensitive soul.
Perhaps too much for a man.
I sigh at beauty. I am enchanted by charm. I can get lost in a look.
I cry at sad movies, often glad of the dark.
I am a romantic, Sad songs in my ear buds. Black and white films in the winter. Meetings in steamy window bookshop cafes, walks by the swan-gliding river, dinner in the flickering light of whispering candles.
A message on my phone that ends in a kiss.
I am a dreamer. A poet. Someone who will never forget the press of her lips.
And sometimes, only sometimes, I am a fool.
Yet for all that, if I am hurt, I can become as hard and as cold as a Siberian frost.
And the doors to my heart
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Anne Magill