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Always and Forever

Beginning Notes:
There are many poems written every day. This particular poem is about many different themes; this particular poem is about pain; sadness; loss; heartbreak; sorrow; the exploration of life; the human spirit; the strength of the human heart. But most of all, this is a poem about love; more importantly; falling in, being in and enjoying love. This poem is dedicated to and is about a woman, but not just any woman; this poem is about a woman that no man could ever possibly forget. Not always will this poem make sense, and at times it may even be contradictory, repetitious and obtuse, but always, always, will it be forever true. The human heart is an ocean of many, many different stories, and I would like to share with you, dear reader, one now. I do hope you enjoy this romantic tale as you ride upon the waves of this verse.

The Poem:
I just managed, I believe from a miracle, to successfully take back my health.
I’m so happy, I’m so heartfelt, I’m so hung over – I really just can’t help myself;
I need to confess something that has been weighing on my mind, there’s something I need to tell
someone, and it goes something like this; I could kiss you for hours on end when the rain fell,
I could hug you in the middle of a storm; I could keep you warm in the dark of the night,
I could look upon your beauty for centuries, I could stroke your skin come morning light.
I could take a photo of your flawlessness and hold onto it forever,
I could fight for you and die for you if it meant we could just be together;
I could serenade you with empowered words of love by day and cook you dinner when the moon arises.
I could grace you with everything, and even after a hundred years still astonish you with surprises.
I could board an aeroplane today and be with you tomorrow just to give you a kiss,
and confess, that never have I tasted anything as sweet as your crimson lips, young Miss.

You know that feeling – when you have lost love, and then you find it again in the heart of another oh so rapidly?
That feeling – that intense, obnoxious, amazingly fantastical, intense feeling is what has overpowered me.
I was lying down in the centre of the empty suburban street one night – love had officially hung up on me,
when I suddenly received a call – and upon answering, guess who spoke – a woman of unbelievable beauty!
She was older than I, and with the exception of two amazing times I had never fallen for an older person,
but I tell you, struck down, by lighting I was, for I could not, and still cannot, quit thinking about this beautiful woman.
Maybe I ain’t as strong as I would hope, after all, I ain’t built from metal and other strong stuff.
I try to get close to you, young lady, but every time I do so it ain’t nearly close enough,
for I cannot let you go. I look up at the clear dark night, and I can see the moon,
and I know you can see her too, and I hope the two of us can be together soon
for when either of us look up at the great sky from where we are, whether it be day or night it is always the same. If that’s the case, then we both must be on the planet Earth,
and so it would be just so easy, wouldn’t it, for us to meet somewhere? You can set the location, I really don’t care where; be it Washington, London, Tokyo or Perth.

In the end, unlovable is but one word that can describe a fallen soul,
and it is a word that can describe me for instead of a heart, I’ve a hole,
for pain is the unrelenting punishment that is forced upon me as a result of being alive,
and I have come to realise that sooner or later the pain will win out and I will not survive.
Perhaps that’s for the better. Maybe when I’m dead and gone nobody will grieve, and nobody will cry,
and maybe there will be many a happy person on the planet Earth on the day that I do die.
Perhaps every acquaintance I’ve ever met will feel a sense of joy running up and down their spine
which will alert them to the arguably obvious fact that the death they felt was indeed mine.
In the eyes of some certain people I may be a hideous, unpopular, unlovable creature,
and perhaps if I be honest I may say that I might not be blessed with a single attractive feature,
and like I said before, maybe death be good, for there is honestly without a knowable doubt nothing left,
for my heart is broken and barely operating and I remain barely human and utterly bereft.

As a man myself, I can speak from experience; once you fall out of love, you always set your sights on the one woman you cannot acquire.
In your eyes, I want to be seen as a man with an actual heartbeat and a possibility for romance rather than a feared pariah.
I am not asking you to fall in love with me at first sight, but I am asking for a single chance;
not to experience a fairytale, but to have a stereotypical legitimate romance
which is quintessential to the soul. Human beings in general are social creatures, I know this for a fact,
which is why, even after so much pain and bludgeoning, my heart and soul have remained totally intact
as to have a relationship once more. Perhaps this time it will be forever, perhaps this time it will be with you,
and I hope that in the very near and hopefully possible future you might be able to feel the same way too,
for I have been in love before, and I am aware of this just as I am aware of my constant heartbeat,
and whenever I see you I have this powerful feeling which begins in my chest before it consumes me from my head to my feet.
I can understand if this sounds absurd, but I have no intention of ever hiding the truth in regards to love, and my feelings I will not deny,
and to be with you, I will do anything that you ask; I will plead; I will beg; I will write; I will draw; I will with pleasure live; and I will gladly die.

It all began with a blog on the social media platform known only as WordPress.
Never in all my years did I believe the content that I had developed could impress
the eyes of a beautiful woman to come looking over all that I had done,
and in that specific moment my heart, you, young lady, had officially won
and so, in regards to your own meticulous work, I became a loyal, unflinching follower,
one of oh so many it would seem. It was not long after I was transformed into a lover
of your face; of your smooth features; of your sacred flesh. My eyes, they lit up like a great menagerie of fire-
flies transcending across the sky in the darkness of the night as I looked upon the woman I now desire
with an untold passion that burns more brightly than the sun, creeping across the horizon in the wee hours of the morning,
and just like that, my heart cried out for something impossible; it cried out for something more as a new love affair was dawning
upon the path that is my life. I knew then just as I know now that these feelings are never going to leave.
I assure you, you can trust me and my many words; all you need do is look into my eyes and believe.

Love is love I say, and so do many others, and love is but hard to find;
love is the one thing that is always without question on my heart, soul and mind
when I think of you. What name could have hath been given to a woman of such brilliance, a woman who in a million years I could not forget?
What emotions could be conjured by the heart of a romantic? However we are just friends for the moment, I swear, nothing has happened yet.
Love is always and forever the one intended endeavour, it is the only necessary task
to gain, and when someone finally discovers their one and only, people poke them with questions and ask
‘are you having fun yet?’ and the answer always is ‘yeah, yeah’.
People always warn me about love, they say ‘buyer beware’,
but I can take care of myself, really, I can take care of my own,
is it too much to ask for some love, I am tired of being all alone
and I would do absolutely anything to succeed in this fruitful desire
and prove how I’m capable of being your man, of being your merciful messiah.

Cupid visited me in my dreams last night; she didn’t look the way I had thought
she might as she instructed me that there was something that I absolutely ought
to do with my life, which included; settling down, finding a good job and acquiring a partner;
a girlfriend, an individual who was more than excellent to be my one significant other.
When I awoke this morning I could not possibly fathom if the plan had been set in motion,
all I knew was that if my heart was anything it was a terrifically wide, deep blue ocean
that is willing and able to belong to something good, like a passionate relationship, someone new,
like a young woman beyond anything upon this planet we call Earth, and I know that woman is you.
I realise I have not done what was supposed to be initially orchestrated,
for it is something different entirely that I have undoubtedly promulgated,
for Cupid had intended for me to have a grand relationship with an Australian,
and instead I wish to have be romantically involved with a certain Arizonian.

There was a time when angels would walketh the Earth, and still they do as depicted by the image of this gorgeous American
from Phoenix Arizona, who has undeniably captured the loving heart, mind and eyes of this Australian citizen,
for my soul will be but forever forfeit if my soul will be not always yours,
and I would do anything to hold you, to kiss you and to do other things and more,
for the word ‘gorgeous’ is but a word, and it barely scratches the surface of your physicality,
and I don’t think a word hath been invented to articulate what you will forever mean to me.
There was a time once when I was unsure what you were to me, but no longer do I have to make my heart choose,
for I want you in my heart,  there’s nothing left to say, for I could never just have you as a plausible muse.
To hide this huge secret of mine, I could provide to you a suitable pseudonym rather than to call you by your actual name,
for such does not matter to me because regardless of your identity, masquerade or not, I would personally still feel the same.
I am at a crossroads; I hope my words don’t seem too expensive ma’am, and I hope they don’t sound too cheap,
because your intricately stunning and elegant beauty, it runs so intoxicatingly deep.

My heart is a dictionary on everything in regards to passion,
for my heart is as wide and free as the never ending, open ocean,
and I can promise there is nothing I am not aware of, there is not a thing that I do lack,
and all you need to do is say the word and I’ll gladly follow you, my darling, to Hell and back,
cuz you are an exotic paradise I have never had the opportunity to explore,
and the loving dream I had last night of being with you, I long to have right down to the very core
of my beating heart. Within the dream last night, I was lost within one helluva escapade;
I had in the process of seeing you lost both my mind and my head from where they had once laid
atop my neck. Upon waking I was happy; I wanted to return, and I’ll say again, I will follow you to the ends of this Earth,
because of everything that I have ever seen and have experienced, of everything that I am aware of, you are undeniably worth
it. All that is required from you, my dear, is that you call my name, and upon doing so, I’ll gladly be there,
be it any place on the atlas, any time of the year, or absolutely, unequivocally anywhere.

I have known you for only a couple months, but a couple months are all I will ever need
to quench my undeniable thirst for loving romance, to bring a stopper to all my greed
for a heart to be connected romantically only to mine for the rest of time,
and to enjoy the kind of love found in a fairytale or in a nursery rhyme.
I could follow you without question to the ends of this Earth
for your words, like treasure, have an unquantifiable worth,
and your photos that you choose to share and upload to your blog frequently make me smile.
If I had the digits for the All Night Radio Love Line their number I would dial
and I’d ask them to play the song ‘I knew I loved you’ by Savage Garden
for you to hear, cuz my beating heart you have without permission taken,
for I was powerless against you with your words of wisdom and your looks of beauty.
Miss; would you ever consider going out on a date with a guy the likes of me?

I listen to the living world around me; to its traffic; to its cities; to its nature; to its ambience,
as I gaze into the affectionately passionate eyes of unequivocal, virginal innocence
that can be described as a sweetness of extraordinary prowess that cannot be tamed,
which belongs to the truest of all true beauties, that cannot ever on paper be named.
If I had a flower for every time I had thought of you, then I do suppose all the flower’s in the world I would need to pluck,
and if you blow a man a kiss from your crimson lips,  I hope only for his sake, he’d better know to immediately duck,
because if your looks can captivate anyone, then imagine what just one kiss could do,
for there is nobody else in this world who I know to be quite as ravishing as you,
for I have seen your life written in photos, drawings and literature within the pages of your great blog,
and it always breaks through the walls around my heart, the brain barriers and the many immense layers of fog
that exists within my mind. Your words are always warm and inviting, and your photo’s are exceptionally great,
and I don’t know if I ever did believe in angels in Heaven, but after looking upon your face, I certainly without a doubt believe in fate.

I have never met you, and I probably never will,
but even with this said, my feelings, they grow stronger still.
I’d ask if we might have dinner, if it wasn’t an issue,
see, the one thing in all the world I want, is spelt ‘y’, ‘o’, ‘u’;
but dinner is not ever going to be option for there’s an ocean in the way,
we won’t be having dinner tomorrow, we won’t be having dinner any other day.
I’ll admit, perhaps I’m totally crazy, I realise that I’m a fool,
for I know I’m probably not that popular and I know I ain’t that cool,
but even with these many words writ and read, I want with you something special; an unbelievably amazing romance
that could sweep you off your feet, and I’d say ‘screw it’ to anything that stood in my way for I’d give everything for a chance
to kiss your oh so unfathomably gorgeous crimson lips on a starry moonlit night;
I know I’m not awesome, but perhaps I can prove that I’m the one; that I’m your Mr. Right.

 ‘Kiss me darling’ I would say to you, ‘touch me’, ‘let me know I’m real;
you are all I truly want, and all that I long to do is feel
your beating heart’, for you are all I ever seem to care
about, and to have you, I call upon the winged prayer
of a Heavenly angel, and I call on Jesus Christ himself
to give unto me the power and to provide to me the wealth
to offer you a marvellous life filled with all you will ever truly need,
and to have you, I’ll face off with the volcano’s edge and I will burn and bleed,
for I must admit, I am through with this façade, this fabrication if you will, and no false truth will ever make do,
than to have the single most gorgeous woman on all the Earth in my arms today, to forever and always have you,
because I do not dare wish to be relegated to a forgotten bitter memory in your eventual past or visualised as just another Facebook friend,
but at the same time I am morbidly terrified that by making any sudden moves, whatever I already have with you may come to an unforeseeable end.

Have I spoken out of just term? Have I been impolite and said too much?
Sometimes I can be like that, being a soporific romantic and such,
but do not ever think my words aren’t real, don’t ever think they are not true;
do not think for but one second that I do not have strong feelings for you.
For I write this piece filled with many rhymes and stanzas for you and only you,
and perhaps I should not confess to this, but I haven’t said all that I want to,
for there’s unfortunately still much weighing upon my heart and still there’s much weighing on my chest;
I must say all that needs to be said, else I promise I will never again be able to rest,
and although there’s but a couple sentences left, due to their content, I wish to say them to you in person.
I wish that the opportunity I seek indeed had the possibility of coming to fruition,
for certain words are better spoken rather than scrawled across the page from several hundred miles away;
and what I wish to express begins and ends with this promise my lady, ‘I will love you every day.’

I feel you are level headed, or is that fear that I be feeling whenever I passionately think of such rare beauty,
who I fear may take one look at the stanzas past and present and may begin to loathe, and perhaps even be frightened of me.
On that note, just remember, I’m a Scorpio, and like any good scorpion I might be aggressive but I will love you forever;
we don’t have to passionately kiss; we don’t have to lovingly hug; we don’t have to romantically touch; we don’t have to be together
because my feelings will never change. I remember everyone I have loved, and I still love them with all my heart and my soul,
and you, young lady, needn’t ever be jealous or scared, because you are the one piece that I require to be heart and whole,
for I really truly love you, more than you could ever fathom, believe or even know;
my only wish is that there was a way to let my uncontrollably strong feelings show.
I do not mean on a piece of paper, or over the internet; I am way past that;
I want to stand beside you and temporarily remove from you your broad brimmed straw hat,
so I could have direct access to your face, and touch your skin with my fingertips,
and just when I believe things couldn’t be any better I’d gently kiss your lips.

If I were to suddenly find myself at the end of my life’s journey on the hour of my death,
the last words I want to say that linger upon my rich, rose coloured lips as I take my last breath
would be your name, before you bestow upon me with your crimson lips an amazing kiss of life,
that immediately removes from me and my existence inevitable impending strife
as to allow me the gift of living just a little longer to look upon your beauty some more.
I can assure you, although I don’t know how, you are the love of my life that I have been searching for,
but for now, I will hide my feelings where they cannot be seen or found, and I will simply pretend,
that I am not infatuated with you, no, I’ll make myself look like another blogger friend
until the day I am given the opportunity to tear down this unshakable masquerade,
and in my heart on this blessed occasion will be held a terrifically romanticised parade
unlike any other, that will put every romanticised event of the heart held before it to immeasurable shame.
I only wish, that if this were a love story, as I wish it were, that at the end, like a fairytale, your gorgeous heart I could claim.

You, my lady, are like gravity; you are like the wind; you are like the air
I breathe. I can never see you, but I know deep down that you are always there,
and if you were to concentrate, you would feel me too; that gentle warmth running across your shoulder –
that is me holding onto you, soothing you, pleasuring you, as the nights grow a little colder, 
for you look upon the same moon as I, and your face is illuminated by the exact same sun,
and just like I know that these words I write are one hundred percent whole and true, I know you are the one
for me. But perhaps you have been hurt, and if such be true, I do apologise, but what you hypothetically had with a last partner was not love,
so I beg of you, blame it only on the man who was a fool to ever harm such fair beauty, but blame it not on the Heavens in the sky above
for the horrific pain that your little heart should not have had, but was forced to endure
every waking minute, for true love is all you’ll ever need-true love’s the only cure
to your pain. Now, I realise I don’t know you as well as I should – in fact I probably don’t know much at all really, but I do know one thing to be true;
young lady, I really, truly, undoubtedly, unfathomably, passionately have the strongest of all strong feelings for your heart, because ma’am, I love you.

I cannot imagine that you were ever born on Earth, so I guess you must be a member of fairer Heaven,
for I am but a shipwreck stranded at sea, and you are my lighthouse guiding me home; my precious blonde haired beacon.
I fear I have been without a certain someone, a certain paramour, for far too long now, and in doing so perhaps my words are sounding desperate,
and this in turn may be why I have decidedly fallen for the woman whose beauty is so astronomical that she deserves the certificate
for been the most beautiful woman in all the known universe, and on the night that you do win, so would be a time for the most expensive wine
to be drunk in cause of this epic celebration, for never was there a woman so elegant, so luscious, so amazing or so divine.
I wish that I, like Peter Pan could fly up towards the Heavens, and that you young lady, could be my Wendy, or perhaps a Tinkerbell,
for never would there be a better story than the one about how I feel for you, never would there be a story I would want to tell
more so than this, for I cannot help but want you, even if I initially only wished to have myself a gorgeous muse,
because out of the three billion something women in all the world around us, you are the one I would always happily choose
to be forever mine. My only wish is that you quit writing; no more journaling; no more poetry; no more prose,
for you writing is so seductive; second thoughts, please keep writing, for I could not live without your words I do suppose.

I wonder if there could ever be a time when you could look back and remember who I was.
Maybe I would have meant something to you deep inside, maybe not too. I only ask because
you’re gorgeous, you really are; never in all my years have I had the pleasure of having a fairer face reflected in  my hazel pupils,
and when I think of you my heart beats faster, I find it hard to breathe, and certain parts of my body become harder, including my nipples.
Moreover I do believe I know the identities of a couple other men who have fallen in love with you;
there is a boy in a hat, a man whose name starts with a ‘D’ and a few others who have remained anonymous too.
Now, hypothetically, if you were to choose to have a romance fuelled relationship with one of us (I know you won’t, but sill, if you were)
please, I implore you to take my advice when I say; choose any man that you wish, for that is your prerogative, just don’t choose this young sir.
I do not say such words with confidence, nor do I say them with ease, but with a heartbreakingly weak sigh,
for I believe these men could offer you more, and maybe have more love in their hearts, and with that thought, goodbye.
If there’s one thing I want you to realise, it’s that I love you, this I need you to know,
because it is said by many a man that when you love someone you have to let them go.

I wonder if the someone I am writing about here is reading these words right now.
My powers of prediction are less than adequate, but I wish this were true somehow.
‘Neither of us have met’ you might state, before asking ‘how can you fall for someone who lives on the other side of the world?’
and I would graciously reply in response ‘you are intelligent, you are so gifted, you are cute and you are a girl;
that’s all I’m looking for, that I’m certain of, that’s what I know,
so, please don’t leave me be, please, young lady, do not let me go.’
I wish there was zero chance of you leaving me behind and quite the opposite of you staying where you are, but I know that’s just reckless, blind, hope,
masquerading as the impeccable ability that which I have ignorantly and egotistically created that can help me cope.
I agree; my feelings may be a lot of things – delusional, deranged, insane perhaps – but they need no explanation,
for in all the world; in all its beauty; in all its contents; in all its uniqueness, you are my wanted destination,
for I feel that I need you the way I need to breathe; the way I need to drink; the way I need to eat and I am certain that all of you reading this can relate when I admit how I have a constant dire need for oxygen,
just as I have a dire need for you. As for your identity, here’s a clue; your name begins with the third letter of the alphabet, or perhaps the tenth; other than that, I ain’t admitting to anything without a reason.

You can’t make someone love you; it’s an unfortunate fact I’ve found, but someone can make you love them with but a twitch of their eye,
or perhaps a smile, a light hearted giggle or an intelligent quote, and then you know without them, your heart and soul will die.
Upon finding you, I will love to run my hand through your exotic hair and stare into your utterly ravishing blue eyes,
that are as clear, flawless and amazing as the Heavens that hang above me, and the never ending cloud free cerulean skies
and even though the truth might always times infinity be that we are a couple hundred thousand miles apart,
the distance, it don’t really matter, for there is nothing ever between us because you are always in my heart.
I’d run a thousand miles just to hear you say my real name, for you know I’m not a ‘Derek’, no, I’m a ‘Nicholas’,
and even though my words may seem oddly strange, I can forever assure you that my feeling’s ain’t ridiculous.
Now, I know I’m not the only man who feels such feelings; there are many men who crave you, and they number in the millions,
and every single one of them is vying for your gorgeous beating heart, your flawless love and your undying affection.
However, I will want them to know, that I am a ravenous wolf, hungry for passionate love, and without you my dear, I will eventually starve,
and I am so greedy and conniving that I do not wish to share you;  I want you alive and whole and I irrefutably refuse to go halves.

Many a man on this Earth will dream of something, and my dream is to be with you. I will be but yours, all you hath do is say the word and you can have your way with me and do with me what you will.
Like a plastic figurine, you can contort my frame into a menagerie of odd shapes; you can twist and turn me in and out, and if it shall be your command you could harm, injure or even kill
me, for as long as I am with you, any moment will be but beautiful, for we both shall be side by side,
and nothing could make me feel more alive; nothing could be more magical; nothing could provide me with such pride
and happiness as I am girt by your love, and you with mine forevermore in a moment truly more marvellous than anything imagined
by anyone with a creative heart, soul and mind, because I do not believe such would  be pure happenstance; I believe we are but destined
to be together. However, proven am I, a romantic already, and I fear my heart be but contaminated with such failed logic,
but even with such written words placed upon this blank page, I know deep within myself that to be with you tonight would absolutely do the trick.
But could you ever truly lower yourself to be with someone of lower standing, aptitude and grace,
who would gladly come after you with all that he has, but if the tables were reversed, you would not give chase,
because you are you and I am me and I tremble with real fear at the general idea that the angel Cupid did not want for me to feel emotions that were ever quite so powerful, quite so delusional, or quite so wild,
but just know – if you ever want to love a man who you can rely upon to never fall out of love with you (unless Tara Mokhtari falls for me which is highly unlikely), just call the name of this lover, just call for Derek Childs.

Ma’am, I am no Roman Payne; I ain’t no Brad Pitt, and I am no Ryan Gosling,
and by the conclusion of this day, I will not be the man you shall be kissing.
Like all the other many men infatuated with you, we be but early foot soldiers in the war for your love,
for never was there a more beautiful woman in all existence than the one who hath fallen from Heaven above.
Like a falling star, you bring about many a positive feeling, a sense of hope and longing and all round good fortune,
and I take my one and only opportune chance to make the wish I dream to be mine beneath the light of the crescent moon,
in the hope that one day perhaps I could be an object of desire, longing and affection in your handsome heart,
and if good luck be bestowed upon me, forever shall a love affair be kindled and never shall we be apart,
because I do  believe that a dream depicting you would be beyond delightful, but a life with you would be oh so much better,
because I cannot imagine anything more fascinating than spending time with the young woman I want to be with forever,
because you truly are, as far as I can honestly tell, without a single flaw you inhuman Godlike seductress. I do not just think such thoughts, I know them for a fact, because you are physically, mentally and spiritually beautiful, and have a beautiful soul and smile as well, and I find myself wondering, would you too be a beautiful kisser?
I would very much appreciate the opportunity to taste the flavour of your kiss and discover the truth of this for myself, but I definitely doubt that anyone as amazing as you could be anything but fabulous in this regard, for there has not ever been a woman who captivated me so the likes of Lady Ginger.

I may have to warn you now before you acquire the wrong impression, I have always been attracted to women who were a little older,
and the intense feelings I have for you dear heart linger on inside me like an immovable object; an incredibly ignoramus boulder,
for you have captured my love heart effortlessly and now with all your talent, you perform like an eccentric ballerina upon its centre stage,
and at day’s end I’m certain of love and I realise I don’t care about the differences, just as I know it would be impolite to ask your age,
just like it would be deviously nefarious of I to ask about your religion; your culture; your background,
besides, none of this affects nor concerns me because true love and beauty I have inevitably, finally found,
but in any case, I do not give a darn about the multitude of differences that separate us so, and all I really care
about is you, always and forever unto the end of time, I will love thee; the woman with the radiance of a solar flare
and I need not stress again how deeply I feel for you, cuz I’ve stressed it numerously over the course of this truthfully honest piece.
I probably have no need articulating your beauty as I already have and my feelings are obviously not going to cease,
and now, I add, this mild mannered man, this dubious author, this aspiring poet, will ask that you please,
consider granting me the chance, and allow me to be your lover, your fighter, your heart’s romantic disease.

I swear to you, I will not ever go quietly into that good night
and I will not ever give up without putting up a tremendous fight
until I have confessed to you all that is weighing so heavily upon my body, heart and mind,
regardless of whether you feel my words are redundant for within them the truth you shall always find.
However, I will admit to you now, I don’t know how to articulate my feelings, I don’t know what to say,
all I know is that you are beautiful; you are incredibly sweet; you are attractive with a capital ‘A’
and a gargantuan explanation point at the end, and I know that what I am feeling is love, I am absolutely sure,
and I am unequivocally certain that in all the world, no one else could ever have such strong feelings or ever love you more,
even though you speak of already being in love. If this be true, then my heart is weighed with much sorrow as I confess that your lover, he is a very lucky guy,
and I hope he realises this, for many a man would agree that it would be so easy to make the decision to do anything, even if that meant to die
to be where he’s standing now – with you; the single most gorgeous woman in all the world, both physically, spiritually and every other way imaginable. I do not say these words lightly; I speak only from the heart and my heart does not dare develop wild illusions nor ever communicate with a forked tongue.
Even if you do not accept me, and I am certain that you won’t and I understand why, I will have you know; a millennia from now someone may read this verse, and in these words they will read of you; your beauty; your intellect; your graciousness; your skills; for in this verse you are, forever and always alive – and young.

End Notes:
The conclusion; the epilogue if you will; the final piece of the puzzle must always be as elegant as the story that came before it as to allow the reader to feel complete. I haven’t the words to succeed in this endeavour, so allow me to simply write; if you have a certain someone that does not know how you feel for them – be sure to tell them you are in love tonight.
Thank you for reading these words dear reader.

The Way it Ought to be

SYNOPSIS: About a man who failed to properly live the life which had been granted to him, and the opportunity of new love that he so wished to have as his.

Light a candle to remember the fallen soul; the deceased wonder of us all;
the child of a deadly sacrifice that which is love eternal and infinite.

Such could, if I be lucky, be the words spoken on the morning of my passing
over an intrepid candle that burns most brightly in the hour of my death,
for failing terribly to properly live the life that had been given to me.
Although I wished to be not nobody, I failed to become a certain someone
and so I am forced to sit in the abyss of my soul whilst contemplating love,
as I stare into the eyes of the man who stares back into me from the mirror.
His expression fills me with sorrow as he forces me to remember the past;
such as it was the element that brought me to the place in time I am in now.
Perhaps if I had changed my actions, life would have become the way it ought to be.
But then again’ I think, as the face of the young woman that I love fills my mind,
maybe everything that happened, happened because fate had always wanted it to.
If such be the case, then fate it seems, is an insidiously twisted creature
for leaving my withered heart to die alone within the passages of this text.
The story behind how I came to feel this way happened during the last winter;
such being an event I remember so well for I relive it everyday.
I will paint the scene as it was for me; in colour; vibrant, fluorescent and true.
A party, it was, in a friend’s giant house, with music playing from dusk till dawn.
This friend of mine had just turned twenty-one, this party being a special occasion,
for nobody ever turns twenty-one twice, thus, everyone had been invited.
The house itself was two storeys in height, looming like a huge, pitch coloured monster.
The lights that were on were its facial extremities, making it look so alive;
if one judged the party on its exterior they would have been terribly wrong;
music was passable, food was delightful and the alcohol kept on coming.
The lights were turned up to their highest extent illuminating all of the house.
The walls were constructed from the thickest plaster, yet they rocked to the beat like leaves.
The luxurious furniture looked so eccentric, whilst someone puked up their guts.
The people present danced to the groove, dreaming of getting into each other’s pants;
and as all of this transpired I looked towards the tower of erected gifts
and just as my eyes came to land on my present, they began to drift towards you.
You were leaning up against the far wall with shadows dancing across your features.
One boot covered foot was against the wall, whilst the other was placed upon the floor.
You wore tight blue jeans that were glued upon your magnificently formed body.
Above the waist you wore a light brown, formalised jacket, with buttons down the front.
Beneath this was a feministic shirt that was an aqua and pink in colour.
Your jet black hair was curly in appearance and tied back in a crimson scrunchie.
In one hand you held a piece of literature, whilst in the other a beverage.
I would go on to describe the beauty of your face but I could not find the words,
for there are no words in any known language to describe someone as beautiful;
those, bright dark brown eyes; those luscious crimson lips; that incredible, heartwarming smile.
I realised then I need you, the same way I need oxygen, food and water
and I know from now on my thoughts when I masturbate will consist only of you.
I wish to love you the way Achilles loved the battle and how he loved the sword;
the way Marc Anthony loved Cleopatra, or the way King Midas loved his gold.
It is now in this story that I proceeded to make my way over to you.
I wonder, how you would react knowing your beauty has captured a man like me,
and as I undress your ravishingly fabulous body with my dark brown eyes,
I know I should be put to death for the heavily sexualised thoughts that I have.
It is now that I go to speak, but I unfortunately fail to find the words.
You look up at me and seem almost annoyed; you don’t want another pick-up line;
but the unfortunate thing for you is, you’re about to receive one anyway.
You roll your eyes and stand aggressively before eventually asking my name;
I say you won’t ever require it, for you have everything you’ll ever need.
From now until your body is but dust and your life’s all but a sweet memory;
until forever is no longer forever you will not need to know my name.
Besides, what is a name, even my own, when you don’t have the man to give it to?
This is why my silence is so bitter sweet, for together, we will never be.
With that being said you gently tilt your head and wonder what question you should cite next.
You ask ‘where are your feelings, where do they reside, where do they shine the brightest?’,
and I say ‘they are where the sun does not see and where the moon cannot penetrate’,
for I’m the pariah; the interloper; the worst of all the world’s pretenders.
This is the excuse I wish to give for trying to grab your heart and soul with lies,
for inevitably, such is the later conclusion I will be forced to write.
Never in my life have I been captured by a beauty that I could not have;
but such a woe it is to find that such has unfortunately occurred
and I am been played love’s romantic fool the same way a musician plays the drum.
But even as all of these words, thoughts and ideas are, all of them, but said and done,
I would very much like to get to know you until we are not strangers no more.
I’ve never felt this way for anyone or anything in the entire world;
for you’re everywhere inside of me; you are in my air; my bones; my heart; my blood.
However, as sudden as your heart struck me down with such a force, light lightning,
more sudden was it when another man came up to you and stole your heart away.
He asked you then, with his truly, romantic words, if he could mould your heart a-new.
You looked to have been swooned with joy; captured in the oceans of an age old romance.
He took your lusciously silky hand in his, just as you took his damn hand in yours,
emotions flaring uncontrollably as you stared into each other’s eyes,
being fueled by a powerful passion that made me swoon in the most horrific way;
and with this, he whisked you away, to make love to you the way the Gods intended
and now, every time I see you, you break me, for I wish to be more than friends.
You have made the heroic lion living inside my soul weep a thousand tears;
you pulled out my heart, raised it towards the Heavens and lost it in the black of night
and now I am forced to carry your memory, that is; unforgotten.
Because of you, I have so many scars that cover what this man once used to be.
I have a scar upon my broken heart; a scar that fails to ever go away;
a scar that is in fact a plague, insidiously caused by this ravaged romance.
If you were to come back to these arms once more I would never – and I must stress this,
if you would please come back to these arms once more, I would never be broken again.

Untitled Beauty Part IV

SYNOPSIS: This is the fourth and perhaps the last piece in this particular series. It has been a while since I last wrote one in this franchise, but honestly – I think I have drained myself now of all that I can write on such a topic. You needn’t have read the predecessors to this piece, but here is a link to the original, which will outline why I write these pieces and where the inspiration for them comes from: http://wp.me/p24LWs-2H

Why can’t you be on the menu, cuz you look so delicious,
in that dress of yours you look unfathomably fabulous,
like an exotic delicacy, or an unopened bottle of aging wine,
and like all great things in this world that surrounds me, I have just gotta make you mine,
so please, don’t screw with me and don’t be a li’l bitch,
I wanna be your boyfriend and here is my pitch;
I am known throughout the land for being a terrific romance making kind of man,
I long to give my heart away to a woman deserving of it if I can,
but first I am going to have to have you captivated by me,
cuz I know who you are and it’s the kinda person I wanna be;
a smooth sailor and an amazing romantic,
who is revered, who is loved, who is fully sick,
for you are tranquil, you are serenity, you are absolutely divine,
I want you to be the most amazing woman to have kissed these lips of mine.
Now, how ‘bout you kiss me on a summer’s night,
and fill me up with your sumptuous delights,
for you are all I want and you are all I’ll need
and to finally have you I would sweat and bleed,
and I believe at the party I perhaps drank too much,
oh shit, the liquor, it has intoxicated my crush
and made these feelings of mine so powerful,
they have become almost intolerable,
and I realise that you ain’t quite yet sober,
but still, I don’t want we have to be over,
so here for you to see is my unpublished confession;
I want to experience with you a make out session.
I realise I don’t know your name and I don’t know your number
but still, that don’t ever mean I can’t dream about you in my slumber.
You say you’ve been eating candy canes like me since you were a little girl,
but don’t think for a second such a tale keeps me from giving you a pearl,
and if you would just give me the opportunity
I would ask you ‘will you be, will you be my baby
from now until the very end of time,
for your beauty is utterly sublime.’
I think in your blood you might have yourself a couple small droplets of European,
but that don’t stop you from being one of those Katy Perry lookin’ Californians,
and I have to wonder, can you survive such an expensive persona?
In my heart, your perfume has captivated me with its fine aroma,
and you may laugh upon hearing this, but I am the official stud,
and I frequently find myself thinking ‘could you ever love me?’ Crud,
you cannot, well at least not quite just yet,
but you, I ain’t ever gonna forget
and aloud I swear, I am gonna fight for you,
there is not a thing in this world I would not do,
because for you I have such strong emotions,
you are, my dear, my personal love potion,
and frequently you have glitter speckled in your hair,
if you won’t love nor have feeling’s for me how’s that fair?
I want you to look upon my feelings,
for in my heart you are all that’s missing
to build me up and make me strong,
for I have loved you all along.
Alright, so here’s a question for you girlie girl,
who frequently walks around this town wearing pearls;
on you they look so gorgeous,
it ain’t hard cuz you’re flawless;
who tastes like sweet unkempt sugar;
who screams at the sight of spiders
when they bring you offerings and camp out beside you,
cuz, like me, they are attracted by your beauty too;
Have you ever loved someone with passion?
Kissed someone whilst moving in slow motion?
Given in to the hungry beast inside?
Ruined everything including your pride?
Kissed them in the darkness of your mind?
Is true love something you wish to find?
Have you ever kissed a cherub or an angel?
Gone dancin’ with a vile, insidious devil?
Ever walked in the greener grass on the other side?
Do you wear your heart on your sleeve or on the inside?
Do you dream of kissing a young, foolish romantic who wants your heart?
Will you promise to never let me go, to never tear me apart?
Have we been caught unaware?
Is there true love in the air?
Would you tell me if there was something wrong?
Have you been playing this fool all along?
Otherwise young lady, please, look into my eyes,
you will see there is not one brilliant disguise
to hide the way I truly feel from you,
I know how I feel, do you feel it too?
Is this feeling reflective of forever?
Is there the chance we might just stay together?
If so, then grab my face and I will grab your arse,
kiss me, kiss me; I’m all romantic, you’re all class,
and I will love you every single day.
For you are born to run, you’re born to stay,
born to kiss a delicately gorgeous rose
and be loved by many men I do suppose.
Now, I ain’t angry at you, no, I am angry at me;
why can’t I be the only man your heart will ever see?
Why can I not be so much more beautiful
and captivate you with my incredible?
Why did I fall in love with the one woman who cannot love me?
I guess I am cursed to live alone from you – it’s my destiny.

 

Thank you for reading!

Party to Die for

SYNOPSIS: A man relives the occurrences of a party that was quite unlike any party you, the reader, has probably ever been too. 

I sat in the cold, dark interrogation room at the local police station, my breath being visible before me as I exhaled. My back was drenched in sweat, my hands timidly moving before me on the frozen metal table. The lights were suddenly switched on as I leapt back in my seat.
The door opposite opened, a man in a plaid suit which appeared to be cutting circulation off from his brain entering the room, cradling a file in one hand and coffee in the other. He had jet black hair that was greased back across his head with eyes that were just as black and sinister. He looked more like a criminal mastermind than a law enforcement officer. He sat before me, dropping the files onto the table whilst fixing up his tie with his now free hand, taking a terrific gulp of coffee immediately after doing so.
‘Mr. Henderson’ he said in a raspy voice, ‘I am detective Lachlan Mitchell. I’ve been assigned to this case because of its distinct peculiarity. I’ve looked over all of the information and I must say, it doesn’t look good for you son, nor for the two chuckleheads I have placed in other rooms just like this one. So before I slap the cuffs on you I would like you to explain to me in your own words what happened two nights ago.’
I tilted my head backwards, taking a deep gulp of air whilst rubbing my eyes, before beginning to divulge the events which had taken place.

I had drawn the short straw. That was why I found myself in the mortuary on the night of my best friend’s birthday. Andrew and Michael were sitting patiently out front in Andrew’s Mustang, smoke billowing out from the exhaust, Michael advising they keep the engine running in case they had to bolt.
I crept timidly down the halls of the mortuary which was located a few metres adjacent to the medical facility. Darkness surrounded me around every corner, my mind concocting scenarios of security being around every turn. Michael had made schematics of the entire building from his night shift at the hospital, the map in front of me not only being incredibly small, but being terribly difficult to read under the dim light of the torch I grasped in my other hand.
On the walls were numerous rooms that were locked, a door with a pane of glass located in front of each which cast eerie shadows across the interior of the complex as my torch connected with such secured areas.
I swung open a door before me and found myself in the lab where the bodies were to be prepped for the funeral arrangements. A putrid odour of death and decay hit me like a tonne of bricks as I stumbled backwards from the killer stench, attempting to hold my breath. In front of me in the centre of the room was a metallic table that shone brightly as though it had been kept pristine over the years. A body, who I presumed to be deceased, was placed atop of it, wrapped in a white cloth that extended across the entire body. The shape of the human form, which I presumed to be male, was all that could be made out. And all I honestly wanted to make out.
A stand made from the same metallic alloy was placed on the left side of the table, with numerous locked drawers located upon its lower most sections.
The walls were a dark blue in colour, with window panes located upon the ceiling, the full moon being visible up in the sky above. Across the walls were posters advertising different medical procedures and the ways a corpse was to be prepared, such things making a shudder travel up and down my spine.
Drawers where the deceased were kept were located on the wall, my hands reaching out and quickly beginning to drag them open one by one. I must have opened up seven, each of them either being empty or filled with some person who died in an incredibly insidious way, before I managed to discover the one which held my best friend; Warrick Childs.
He looked quite peaceful under the torch light, for a dead guy I mean. I’d being half expecting his guts to be hanging out of him like undigested offerings that a bunch of carnivorous hounds would have left behind after digging into him.
He had bright orange hair that looked rather untidy, yet considerably pristine. His green eyes were closed and he had numerous freckles located across his cheeks.
I slowly began to move him out from his confinement, his body crumpling to the floor at my feet as I closed the creaking drawer which clicked into place.
I suddenly felt Warrick’s hand shoot out and grab my leg, my body nearly falling backwards in fright, my torch darting around the room before I came to my senses, realising it had been the cat in the corner which had touched me, the creature of the night hissing from its hiding place. I shook my head before slowly picking up Warrick’s body and swinging it over my shoulder, my legs buckling beneath me under his dead weight as I made my way towards the door.
Just at that exact moment when I was about to make my fantastical get away (if I must say so myself) after implementing the perfect crime, I heard the creaking of one of the cabinets sliding open. Turning my head, I noticed the body of a near naked woman hanging out from the long line of cabinets, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as I gently placed Warrick onto the operating table atop of the other corpse.
‘Don’t mind me’ I said, hoping that neither of the corpses were at all homophobic.
I hurried over to the open cabinet and attempted to slide it back into place, the prosthetic breasts of the young woman’s deceased corpse preventing it from property sliding back in. Every time the head and neck of the young woman made their way inside the confines of the cabinet I felt a sense of joy. That was of course before the exterior of the cabinet connected with the huge breasts which bounced it backwards, many times the drawer nearly colliding with my crown jewels. The woman’s breasts themselves were like two cannons sticking out from the side of a pirate’s vessel, bouncing up and down in place. If that was not bad enough they were so lusciously beautiful I found them almost impossible to resist, just wanting to grab a hold of the gorgeous creatures to see how they felt. Such a job must have cost several hundred thousand dollars and were deliberately placed there to be admired and groomed, not to be left to rot in the drawer within a mortuary for Chrissake.
I took a deep breath, attempting to keep my mind on the problem at hand. If the doctors came back down here and saw the body outside from her home then they would certainly know without a doubt that there had been a grave robbery. I jerked and jabbed with the cabinet, the body rocking all over the place as though it were listening to Whitney Houston’s Greatest Hits collection. Finally, after a sickening squelching sound issued forth from the cabinet’s interior the body was rammed successfully back inside.
I breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing my hand over my sweaty forehead, before grabbing Warrick’s body off from the table, grunting in agony as I did so before hurrying out of the mortuary with his head banging up against my back like a drum.
Reaching the car, I dumped Warrick’s body into the trunk, hurrying into the back seat as Andrew revved up the engine.
‘Okay boys; let’s go have ourselves a party!’ I cried, the car flying into the distance, the rest of the night after that being nothing more than a blur.

The detective nodded his head as I concluded the story, before pulling out a laptop buried beneath the files he had brought in with him. He opened the computerised device, which was already on line to an internet site which had aired coverage from the night of the party.
Before me was streamed a film of Andrew, Michael and I at a table, with our deceased friend Warrick located directly in the centre.
Michael had skin that was heavily tanned, his hair being a pitch black in colour that was cut incredibly short. He wore a dark blue shirt with stripes of a white colour going horizontally down the front.
Andrew had blonde coloured hair that was raised high up on the left side of his head but lower down on the right. His eyes were a blue colour and he had a devilish smile about him, a light blue shirt placed across his chest.
Warrick on the other hand we had managed to shove into an orange and blue shirt that was comprised of stripes going vertically across the fabric, with white trousers located on his legs. A party hat was perched atop his head which was continuously tilting forward, his body unable to remain upright for long.
We each chugged down a few beers before emptying a number of overloaded glasses down Warrick’s cold, dead throat, cheering after such an accomplishment had being successfully orchestrated by our dead friend. A great amount of the alcoholic fluid dribbled across the shirt we had applied over the white gown the mortuary staff had tied around Warrick’s body to hide his genitalia.
Andrew suddenly moved out from the camera frame, before placing a giant mud cake in the centre of the table. ‘Make a wish!’ he cried to Warrick, who tilted his head to the side before collapsing on top of the table, the cake splattering into a few thousand pieces beneath him.
‘This went on for some time’ noted the detective, fast forwarding the image. ‘Then we get to this disturbing scene’ he said, clicking the play reticule, the video beginning to continue once more. A woman dressed in a sleazy black outfit stepped on top of the table, beginning to do a rather sexualised dance in front of Warrick. Her hair was curled into some kind of afro, her eyes sparkling like glitter in the night. The only clothing she had on her person was a black bra and panties with a couple of notes thrust into the side of the threads. Her breasts reminded me a lot of those that belonged to the woman I had managed to ram back inside the cabinets at the mortuary. ‘You’re one year older big boy!’ she cried in a high pitched voice, moving herself on top of Warrick and wrapping her legs around his body. She grabbed his crotch before crying ‘whoa, your penis is so hard and erect, like a cadaver!’ Warrick’s head suddenly titled onto her chest as she purred, grabbing hold of his head and thrusting his nose deep inside of her cleavage as to allow him to get a better look, appearing not to notice the current predicament he was in.
The detective suddenly turned off the video, his face conveying an element of shock as I sat speechless before him. ‘I am glad to say that we did locate his body’ noted the detective after taking a short breath. ‘It was found outside of a park on Rockchester Avenue, nearly twelve kilometres from your place of residence, which according to the video and the forensic evidence taken by the police officers was where the party ensued. Some of that same evidence was located at the mortuary which we’ve linked to your DNA, presumably sweat’
‘Well if you found his body, shouldn’t you perhaps let me off with a warning?’ I questioned.
‘I said we found his body’ grunted the detective. ‘It was decapitated.’
I raised an eyebrow at such a statement.
‘It took us a further nine hours to find his head’ commented the detective. ‘It was located fifteen kilometres east of his body, in a football field between two goal posts. What it was doing there is beyond me, but I doubt he was there to watch the big game.’
I went to speak but the detective quickly cut me off. ‘You would be pleased to know that we attached the head to the body, all in time for the funeral which was held late yesterday afternoon instead of the initial scheduling which had been booked for the morning, for obvious reasons which I doubt I will have to explain.’
‘Well, I guess everything sorted itself out in the end’ I said.
‘However’ said the detective, quickly cutting me off once again, ‘there’s more. We later discovered alcohol in the deceased’s system, apparently planted there after his body had been abducted. This was found after the funeral. It appears the embalming fluid and the alcohol mixed together in the stomach of your friend and caused a chemical reaction, which further caused his entire stomach to explode during the funeral precession. His body was blown into a thousand pieces and scattered across the entire chapel, his head coming to rest in the lap of his poor mother, Daniela Childs, who unfortunately died of complications to the heart at the scene.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that’ I said with a stutter.
‘Okay, now let’s go through the list of wrongs you and your gang have successfully orchestrated thus far’ began the detective, counting them off on his fingers. ‘We have breaking and entering; public mutilation to the deceased; some sexually explicit actions which I am proud to say I did not air to you this evening; public drunkenness; destruction of property; littering; attempted vandalism; successful vandalism; reckless driving under the influence of alcohol, among other substances which stripper Lucky Lucy has attested to providing you and your happy team members. Along with this she admitted to the performing of numerous erotic and illegal actions which the five of you were involved in for a number of hours. We have mortuary theft; attempted grand theft auto; vicious slander towards strangers who wish to remain anonymous; urination in a public place; the unintentional murder of sweet Miss Daniela Childs and the desecration of the deceased. Both Mr. Warrick Childs and Miss. Hilary Watson, whose cadaver was found crushed inside her assigned cabinet within the mortuary, her body, apart from being beyond recognition also appearing to be coated in the same gel found in prosthetic body parts, breasts for example?’ he noted with a raised eyebrow.
I tilted my head to the side, having absolutely nothing to say for myself.
‘I guess what I would like to ultimately know is why throw a party for a dead man?’ continued the detective. ‘It seems a little redundant if you ask me, but then again I’ve always considered myself to be quite the normal individual, I don’t get off on all the fiendish and satanic mumbo jumbo you and your gang orchestrated on the night of these viciously vulgar occurrences. What? Haven’t you anything to say for yourself?’ he probed as I shook my head, the detective beginning to stand to his feet. ‘I’ll be back in a while after I’ve interrogated the other culprits involved in this orgy of insidious criminal activity.’
‘But, you can’t leave me in here!’ I crowed as the detective reached the door, ‘what if I catch my death of cold?’
‘Not on your life’ grunted the detective, the lights dimming as the door closed behind him.