About Romantic Dominant
A faded romantic Dominant with a love of all things beautiful and a taste for the darkly sensual and decadent.
A lover of music, food and wine, literature, theatre, film and art.
A writer. Though not a good one. Of novels, shorts stories, songs and poetry. The written word is my joy and my curse.
I am tall, silver haired, slender with piercing hazel/blue eyes and long, sensitive hands. I am neither handsome nor unattractive. I am a realistic dreamer, an idealistic pragmatist. I am a sexually dominant but patient and sensual lover.
I adore intelligent, elegant, independent, beautiful women .
I am not young. I am faded and fading.
But if the music is playing, and the wine is good, and the stars are shining bright in a soft velvet night sky, and the light falls on me just right, then you might see the man who could break hearts.
Well, if you have a very good imagination anyway ...
He knows her eyes from her photographs.
He is lost in them.
In a number of the treasured images they are open and smiling. In others, they are mysterious and brooding. Sometimes they smoulder. In one or two they are soft and vulnerable. These touch him deeply.
.
He has no vocabulary to describe the colour – and besides – it is not constant. They are molasses, and coffee, and cinnamon and toasted biscuits and burnt caramel and dark, amber honey.
.
They remind him of newly born, shining chestnuts, freshly emerged from their creamy skins.
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Her eyes make him think of gorgeous, golden, gleaming antique wood, of raw opium, and of rich, crafted, leather.
.
And of looking deep into her soul while he slowly, tenderly, expertly caresses her perfect body with long, elegant, sensitive fingers.
.
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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
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I do not discriminate between colour of skin, of hair, or of eyes, and have no preferences. This just happens to be a tribute to brown eyes. It was written at the turn of the year 2013 and has been shyly and patiently waiting behind sweetly lowered lids to be posted once again this year.
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Tags: beauty, D/s, distance relationship, Eyes, Godfrey Yarek, poetry, relationships, romance, these dark desires, writing
If we were strangers
and I saw you
in a cafe
reading a book
or on a train
gazing from the window
or in the park
walking your dog
or in a restaurant
laughing with friends
or in a supermarket
checking your list
or in a car
stuck at the lights
or in the office
confident and sure
or in a crowd
standing out
I would still want you
like sin
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Not new, but true.
Art by Thomas Saliot
Tags: beauty, distance relationship, If we were strangers, poetry, relationships, romance, romantic dominant, Thomas Saliot, writing
I have a sixth sense
I see what lies far beneath the surface of strangers and lovers.
I sense your desires, your fantasies, your needs.
I know what arouses you, what excites you, what makes you ache for release.
I learn your intentions, your agendas, your plans
I feel your hopes.
I watch your dreams.
I divine what you are thinking, what you are wondering, what you are wishing.
And I hear
what you aren’t saying.
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I have a sixth sense.
It is both gift and curse.
.
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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Not brand new. But true.
Art by Jaroslaw Datta
Tags: distance relationship, Gift and curse, Jaroslaw Datta, poetry, relationships, romantic dominant, these dark desires, writing
Neophyte
.
In the middle of our conversation
my eyes are drawn
to the pale,
translucent skin of your throat,
to the shadowed hollow
and your perfect bones.
.
I am struck blind
by the holiest of visions.
.
Later staring out of the darkness
my fears are stilled
by the soft
remembered curve of your smile,
and the touch of your hand
when once alone.
.
I am sublime
with glorious religion.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
This is by no means a new poem of mine, written some years ago and posted here five or six times. But one always adores a neophyte.
Art by Thomas Saliot
Tags: beauty, D/s, distance relationship, erotica, neophyte, poetry, romantic dominant, these dark desires, Thomas Saliot, writing
