Eyes

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.

.

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.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

.

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. 

.

Art by Godfrey Yarek

 

Audience

I will be

your Master

your lover

your teacher

your director

your instructor

your writer

your fighter

your admirer

your camera.

.

I will be

your poet

your guide

your shaman

your priest

your ally

your defender

your friend

your confidante

your owner.

.

I will be

your audience.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by William Oxer

 

My darkness

My darkness calls her

and she aches

to wrap it around her

to allow it

to absorb her

to swallow her

to capture her

to take her.

.

She longs

to let it enter

her eyes

her mouth

her sex.

.

She yearns for it

beneath her clothes

beneath her skin

to own her body

to own her mind

to own her soul

until she belongs

completely

to me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by William Oxer

 

If we were strangers

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/Faded Romantic

Art by Thomas Saliot

 

Winter Sunday

Sunday afternoon

fading

and dissolving

as Winter days do.

.

Yet I burn

bright

in the silence

in the solitude

in the gloom.

.

For you.

Only for you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by Jeremy Mann

 

Gift and Curse

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.

.

I have a sixth sense.

It is both gift and curse.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Not brand new. But true.

Art by Jaroslaw Datta

 

In summer

When winter

has settled in

it is hard

to believe

in summer

and the taste

of sunshine

on your skin.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by the late Steve Hanks

 

Neophyte

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/Faded Romantic

This is by no means a new poem of mine, written some years ago and posted here a number of times. But one always adores a neophyte. 

Art by Thomas Saliot

 

The Wonder

In every day

there is something new

something unexpected

something different.

I remain wide-eyed

like a child

at the wonder of it.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

I have posted this before. I have not changed

Photography/Art by Erik Johansson

 

Delight

Nothing

gives me more

sexual

erotic

delight

than a shy

and innocent

submissive

neophyte.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by William Oxer