I want you.
It is as basic as that.
It is as primal as that.
It is as simple as that.
It is as wild as that.
It is as raw as that.
It is as dark as that.
It is as holy as that.
It is as dirty as that.
It is as true as that.
It is as pure as that.
I want you.
I want you.
I want you.
.
.
Copyright the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Art by William Oxer
When I see you
all my words
suddenly
seem dull
and pale
and empty.
Yet I wanted
to give you them
so much.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Art by William Oxer
I have been as guilty of it as anyone.
But much less so these days. Now the shadows are lengthening.
Because there is but one life. There is no heaven in which to smugly contemplate relentless eternity. There is no hell to somehow face greater suffering. There are no seventy-two virgins with legs spread wide. There is no reincarnation as a deer, or a fox, or someone somehow better.
There is only now.
The years which seemed to stretch out endlessly when we are soft and still to be moulded, constantly gather momentum. Like water rushing out of the basin. Like sand escaping the narrowing hourglass. Life is so short. Time is so precious.
And yet we waste it. We procrastinate. We dither. We make excuses. We pretend to be something we are not rather than act upon who we are. We pretend we are looking for perfection as if it really exists. We fear making mistakes and instead we do nothing. We hold ourselves back, saving our hearts, bodies, and souls for someday, some person, some event that may never be. Our days pass by with nothing to mark them but the calendar. We always think that there is still tomorrow …
I know I will eventually end my days regretting the women, the times, the joys (and even the sorrows) I did not have far more than I will regret those I had*.
I once told someone that Life is not a Rehearsal.
She did not listen.
But will you?
.
.
* I am certain this thought is stolen from elsewhere, so please do forgive the plagiarism.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/FadedRomantic
Another unearthing from my archive.
Art by William Oxer
She is innocent.
Her bold beauty is barely blemished. Her gorgeous body is almost untouched by another’s breath. The gentle pages of her heart are yet to be written. Her hunger is new and urgent. She longs for something she has yet to discover.
She has purity in her soul.
He is darkness.
He has loved and won and lost his way through enough joy and sorrow to fill the night. He has coaxed forth endless sweet fantasies, elegantly bestowed a thousand decadent pleasures, and administered such breathtaking, delicious torture.
His eyes have seen far beyond the shadows.
Yet there is an ache that binds them. A primeval yearning that sets them apart from all others.
He will sanctify her slow surrender and make them both holy.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
More delving in my archives. I like this one.
Art by William Oxer
You think I am romantic.
You read my words and you read ‘love’ into them.
But I hardly ever use the word.
It is too big and too small. Too specific and too universal.
It has been idolized, eulogized, exalted, celebrated, hymned and acclaimed.
It has been hijacked, railroaded, politicized, kidnapped, blackmailed, broken, ruined and whored.
It has been given and taken, lost and found, borrowed and stolen.
It has been used as a reason for everything, an answer for everything, an excuse for everything.
It has been devalued by so many wanting it, by so many selling it.
So I hardly ever use the word ‘love’.
I write of lust, desire, longing, and yearning. Of sensuality, sex and eroticism. Of arousal and excitement. Of seduction and initiation. Of pleasure and pain. Of Domination and submission. Of attraction and infatuation. Of caring. Of nurture. Of adoration. Of friendship. And yes, of romance too.
Because I know exactly what those words mean.
And if I ever write of love – and I sometimes do
I make sure I know exactly
what
and who
I mean.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Not the first time I have posted this. Still true.
Art by William Oxer
Sun on my skin
eyes closed
birds singing
insects humming
breeze whispering
and my restless
hungry
Dominant soul
waiting
for you.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Art by William Oxer
Eyes to lips
throat to breasts
belly to hips
arse to thighs
hair to skin.
You are holy.
You are sin.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Art by William Oxer
Naked beneath sheets
in the raven black dark
tapping out poetry
in the glow
of my phone.
.
Sensing you
reading me
knowing
I am touching you
calling you
beckoning you
seducing you
to be owned.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Art by William Oxer
Sexual submission
is not for the needy
or the lost
or the lonely
or the bored
or the casually curious.
.
It is for the independent
intelligent girl
who knows the call
the ache
the yearning
to be owned
and fulfilled
deep in her soul.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Not new, but endlessly true.
Art by William Oxer
When you read me
beyond poetry
beyond fantasy
romantically
sexually
submissively
hot and hungry
you know
you are lost
in my addictive dark.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic
Art by William Oxer
A Faded Romantic's Notebook 
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