There is
a beautiful violence
in the way her hips roll
like thunder
her eyes flash
defiance
and her heels
sound like gunfire
as she walks
across a room.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Written last year, but I like it
Art by Annick Bouvattier
A girl like you.
In my youth I would have fought other boys for the right to walk you home. Wearing the scars like a badge. Or I would have wandered backwards and forwards past your house , hoping to catch a glimpse of you at a window. Or long for you to see me, a shadowy figure beneath the street light, and think me romantic.
In my youth I would have carved presumptuous initials into innocent trees, into battered park benches, into tables, and desks, and the backs of chairs – not caring if I was caught. Or that you would disapprove if you knew.
In my youth I would have sought you out at dances, making a mess of my over rehearsed lines. I would have asked a friend to give you messages – which you would probably receive with a frown.
In my youth I would have made up a hundred heroic stories in my head where I come to your rescue. Saving you from the clutches of the mob, the grip of an assailant, the jaws of death. Or perhaps just finding your lost dog.
In my youth I would have written you tortured poems, toiled over for hours, scrawled on stolen paper, that would never leave the pocket of my faded denim jeans.
In my youth I would have wished for the internet, if I could have seen into the future.
Yet here I am. Connection at my fingertips. Posting pointless poetry.
That you will probably never read
A girl like you.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Written a year ago, and I am still posting pointless poetry.
Art by Annick Bouvattier
I adore
the soft
slow
sensual
sound
the tongue
of the zipper
makes
tantalizingly
releasing teeth
and baring skin
as you
undo
your dress.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Annick Bouvattier
I am not obsessive
in any way,
nor compulsive
by nature.
I do not have fetishes
or fixations,
crazes
crushes
cravings,
infatuations
or fads.
I do not have dependencies
or tendencies
towards addiction
But I truly
cannot get enough
of your body.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Annick Bouvattier
My phone
vibrates
in the pocket
of my faded
ancient Levis
tingling
like a faint
electric shock
against my thigh.
Even though
the buzz
the purr
the whirr
does not alter
I always know
without a glance
when the message
comes from you.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Annick Bouvattier
A zipper
a button
a bow
a clip
a clasp
a hook
an eye
a belt
a lace
a ribbon
a tie
a buckle
a stud
a popper
a pin.
So many ways
to remove your clothes
so many ways
to reveal your skin.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Annick Bouvattier
You move through my day
like a sigh
like a breath
like a whisper
like warm air
like a soft breeze
like a wild wind
like a sea storm
like a tempest
like a hurricane
and I am blown away
by all of them.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Annick Bouvattier
