This is what hell is all about

The devil is not this horrible, deformed creature you think he is.

The devil is your logic disguised as rational thinking.
Trying to make you a servant of your logic, instead of the other way round, instead of you keeping your logic as a handy servant.

Trying to keep you in places, things, people, situations where your heart is empty and dead and safe in mediocrity , where your spirit is withering but your physical and rational self is thriving. That's where devil is and that's where your soul is dead. In your safe , flat logic.

God is where your heart is singing, even if by everyone's standards you 're there in the lowest of the lows. When logic starts shouting, you cant hear the singing of your soul. And you wither. And die inside. This is hell. And it all starts by paying heed more to the shouting than the singing.And then all kinds of physical and mental torture afflict your body ( disease, depression) trying to tell you that you're in your hell. That you forgot the singing. That you 've been whoring yourself to your rational mind and betrayed your heart's true calling.

Forget about safe.

Go where your feet tremble with joy and fear instead

This is what hell is all about

The devil is not this horrible, deformed creature you think he is.

The devil is your logic disguised as rational thinking.
Trying to make you a servant of your logic, instead of the other way round, instead of you keeping your logic as a handy servant.

Trying to keep you in places, things, people, situations where your heart is empty and dead and safe in mediocrity , where your spirit is withering but your physical and rational self is thriving. That's where devil is and that's where your soul is dead. In your safe , flat logic.

God is where your heart is singing, even if by everyone's standards you 're there in the lowest of the lows. When logic starts shouting, you cant hear the singing of your soul. And you wither. And die inside. This is hell. And it all starts by paying heed more to the shouting than the singing.And then all kinds of physical and mental torture afflict your body ( disease, depression) trying to tell you that you're in your hell. That you forgot the singing. That you 've been whoring yourself to your rational mind and betrayed your heart's true calling.

Forget about safe.

Go where your feet tremble with joy and fear instead

I am a woman who loves too much and I wear this proudly, as a badge of honour

I am a woman who loves too much.
And I wear this proudly, as a badge of honour.

When I give , I don't just give my all. I give of my flesh and blood, until I am depleted and run out of the last droplets of love. I am a heavy weight lover, or a marathon runner of love, if you will.

Recklessly adoring and vulnerable to the point of bleeding to emotional death–my heart is displayed wide open, for I not only trust love in the abstract, but I trust the one I love in action, deeming them worthy of my love specifically because they were chosen to be loved by me, not because they are either worthy or unworthy of it.

I lay my heart in front of their feet and even give them a sword to pierce it through, knowing fully well that sooner or later they will.

When I walk into a room, the love overflowing from my heart radiates out of me like a technicolor sun. Cats, dogs and little girls are drawn to me like iron shavings to a magnet, because the warmth of that love, the love of a woman that loves too much, soothes their insides. I walk wearing my love potential like a regal mantle, sweeping behind my back and men on the street compliment me on my looks, having no idea that it is the strength of that love that compels them.

My loving too much is my presence and my signature.

It is present when I pamper the one I love in bed, or when I sacrifice my last euro to feed a stray kitty.

I navigate through life posing for selfies or having lessons or writing blog posts, laying my soul bare ,purely because my heart tells me so.

I am dripping in love, weathered from the blows that life on the vulnerable side delivers to me all the time, weak and strong at the same time in the beauty of that love.

I am not afraid to tell you I love too much and am proud of it because I have done the work to be at home in that love.

I do not shrink to accommodate the love that is given to me ( which, since I am a marathon runner of love in action and most people are couch potatoes in comparison, is rarely up to par) , but burn bright to remind them by example, what is there to be afraid of?

I cherish each scar on my heart, each wound, each betrayed trust, each inch of my mercy. I walk with my head held high because I know only love can heal us all.

I show this world my tears and my laughter, unashamed.

I know better than to try and fix or heal the ones that cannot or wont love me back. I know that by healing my self worth and strengthening my love potential, I heal this world.

I am a woman who loves too much
and I wear this proudly, as a badge of honour.

I love fearlessly and sweetly and ferociously with all the might I can, for what good is living if we are not loving?

I am here to love and love I will.

I can taste bullshit from a mile away since I am freer and truer by choice and that gives me stronger insight into inauthenticity.
But I still choose to trust. With all my heart.

I do not keep my love in a cage that requires a transaction of any sort to be free.

I care and dare and hurt and love through my life.

I am a woman that loves too much — you will feel me when I walk into your life or your space

The Hypnotic Power Of Breasts

Magnetic. Hypnotic. Fascinating.

All breasts are beautiful.

Not metaphorically. But truthfully.

Why?
Because a woman's breasts are her feelings and emotions made visible. A young girl's breasts are beautiful in the sense she is like an emotionally unopened bud that has a lot to give. An older woman's breasts are beautiful too in a different way, because she is a warrior of giving emotional support throughout her life and that shows visibly. A woman who has breastfed her babies has another kind of appealing softness about her breasts, the softness and sweetness of nurturing through her body. Whatever shape or size of your boobs is just right. Because your feelings are always beautiful and breasts are your feelings made visible. There will always be someone who will appreciate those feelings (and boobs). Please don't think you need artificial stuff to make them pretty. Fake is ugly, especially in feelings. And, like I said, your breasts are your feelings made visible.

Breasts are totally hot – just not in the way people usually talk about.A woman’s breasts will synchronize with her baby to become the perfect temperature for it. She does it for her lover too, if she is in love with him/her. Think for a second of when you hugged your mother as a child, or when your child hugs you… where is the head? That’s right, laying on the chest, on the breasts. Soothing. comforting, transmitting love. It is intangible, but no less real. This is how mothers transmit the nurturing, loving energy to their children even when they are not breastfeeding. This is how women transmit loving energy to their lovers as well, through their breasts. (By the way, this is how a man gives loving energy too, but his breasts are flat, so he transmits to his lover a sense of sturdy stability, of reliability and strength, as opposed to the woman's nurturing ).

Mother’s milk is completely unique and not possible to replicate (despite what you may have heard from the formula companies). It actually changes minute by minute, day to day, to provide exactly the right nourishment and immunities that a baby needs as determined by the breast through receiving information from the baby’s saliva on the areola. I breastfed all four of my children. I am so glad I did. But many mothers can’t, or don’t. What I want to talk about is the invisible aspect that is rarely talked about that every mother, whether she breastfeeds or not can give with her breasts: her feminine, nurturing energy.

A man sucking his partner’s breast, is remembering the feeling of suckling at his mother’s breast. Hormones of pleasure inundate his body in sheer ecstacy, feeling deep peace and pleasure in his own body and profound connection to their woman. At the same time, since breasts are connected to the womb, a woman is inundated with pleasure hormones as well and orgasmic sensations. This is the power of the breast. If you no longer have your own breasts, don't worry. The energy crenter -your heart- is still there, so you retain intact your powers to excite and nurture and soothe .

Your breasts are miraculous,
not just for what they look like,
but for what they are and for what they do.

Love them.
Be proud of them

They are your feelings and heart made visible

With nurturing Love
Eirini

4 Things Life Has Taught Me About Being A Mother

I am the proud mom of four boys. 

Like almost every parent on this planet, there are days that my heart feels like it may burst because I can hardly contain the love I feel for them.
At other times, thankfully few and far between , I feel like I've failed them miserably. 

While society considers me to be their role model and educator, after almost 21 years of being a mom to them, I have come to realise that they are actually my greatest teachers.

And these are the 4 most important lessons they have taught me:


1. When in doubt, err on the side of indulgence

I have noticed that all over the world the prevailing idea is that a more lenient parenting style is often confused with neglect or not clear boundaries setting,  while strict, authoritarian parental styles are thought of as 'tough love' and being a 'responsible parent' . But strictness of its own accord does not guarantee caring and protection any more than lenience of its on accord  guarantees love and warmth.

Yes, I am an indulgent parent and proud of it.
Meaning, more often than not, I take the most relaxing road in child rearing.

God knows I wasn't always like that. With my first born, I wanted everything to be done perfectly, in a timely fashion and by the book. And if it wasn't, I had to 'discipline ' my kid. Which resulted in an awful lot of unnecessary tension and unhappiness for both of us and, believe me, little or no results when it came to stopping undesirable attitudes or actions. Eventually I saw the light and realised that my kids' mental, emotional -and physical - health is far more important than perfection or 'teaching them the right lesson'. 

''But won't the kids turn out to be spoiled brats?'', you ask. 

Honestly, I don't understand this question. It is as if my kids, and any other kid on this planet, are inherently evil little creatures that need to be taught the correct way or else their evil nature will take over. This is obviously a remnant of puritanical thought of eras gone by and I'd rather not debate  the obvious. 

Being a spoiled brat is usually the result of a parenting style that fluctuates between overindulgence and too much strictness, where the kid does not know what to expect at any given moment and as a consequence has never developed the inner self discipline to correct or check themselves when they are about to engage in assholish behavior. When there is always a parent or authority figure teaching you to do that or else, you 'll turn up to be an adult that only does things because someone makes them to. 

Life has its way of using corrective measures to make sure that you 'll pay for the consequences of your actions, good or bad, no matter your age ( this obviously does not apply to life threatening situations). Studies have shown that when it comes to preventing unsocial or harmful teenage behavior, by far the most important deterrent is neither strictness nor neglect, but rather active warmth, meaning caring and showing up daily, in the good times and the inevitable bad times. Showing you care, and never giving up is the key for me. 


2. My parenting style is ok and so is yours

Barring abuse and neglect, this goes for every single parenting style on this planet. There is no perfect parent. No one size fits all. And no parenting style is better than another's. We may differ, but so do our kids. Life abhors uniformity. In everything. Your kid is unique in all creation and so is mine. So love and raise her or him accordingly.

You are doing fine. 
You are doing your best. 
Keep going.
Don't listen -or read- to  uncalled for advice. You are a great parent. Really. 

Just keep at it.

3. When it comes to teaching values to my kids, this is the one most important thing I go by

Sure, I want my kids to be loving, loved, healthy, happy, prosperous, well educated, compassionate, resilient, open-minded, respected etc. Yes, I want for them all the wonderful things life has to offer on this planet.

But more than anything else.

I. WANT. THEM. TO. BE FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Freedom is my highest value. Top notch. Yes, even higher than love. So it is only natural that I want this for my kids more than anything else in this world.

Freedom to me means leading the most authentic and satisfying -mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually - life possible. If something feels restrictive, it is probably oppressive and soul crushing and, if tolerated for too long,  contributing to ill health and misery, ultimately depression and physical melt down. Our bodies and hearts know. It is our minds that trick us into repressing our souls in all ways imaginable. 

It is ok to do your duty and avoid instant gratification, but look at all those people feeling chronically depressed, sad for no reason, or that they are somehow trapped. All clear signs they 've been lacking in freedom, first of the soul, then of anything else.

I don't want this sort of life for my kids. This may be the case all over the world, but it doesn't have to be so. And it all starts out when you're too young to know any better.

If freedom is your guiding post, if you are taught from a very young age to value your inner guidance more than ANY authority figure (yes, your parents included ), anything that feels oppressive, you have the clarity and strength to change . And thus save your soul from being crushed down by society's demands that only wants obedient cogs in its machines.

Freedom "gives" happiness because the state of being free is aligned with your true nature. The more you are aligned with your true nature, the more you are well. When you are completely aligned with your true nature, you are completely well, and completely free.

And ultimately, the only way to teach your kids to value freedom is to set the example for it, but even most importantly, to raise them in a way that allows them to make free choices and value their inner guidance system more than ANYTHING else in this world.

Because this guidance system is the Holy Spirit in them. ( Ok, their life force, if my religious jargon bothers you). 

And because freedom is the way we are ultimately loved by God.
(or the universe, or whatever, I'm sure you got the point)

So love your kids like (a) God , teach them the highest value there is.

Freedom


4. Ultimately, my kids are first God's children, then mine 

It’s not always easy for me to trust that God's plan for my children is better than any dreams I might have for them.   I’m just one piece of their story, even if that piece is a very important one. Thankfully, I can fail -though not intentionally!-  and make all sorts of mistakes, and God is still sovereign over all and His Grace will eventually be evident in my kids' life. 

Just like in everyone else's.

Love Our Story

Our Story

''What shall I be writing about today''?
she asks him.

She loves it when he gets to see her story
 before anyone else does.
She imagines him reading it and reliving their moment,
the one she's writing about.

''Did I render it correctly?'' she asks him.
''Perfectly'', he reassures her.

''C' mon, write one yourself,''she urges him.
''One written from your own point of you,
your own vantage point, you know?''

''No'', he says.
''I love your rendition of our story.'' 
''Pitch perfect. Beautiful.''
''Straight from your heart''
''I wouldn't change a thing''.

And that's about 
the sweetest thing
a man could say to his lover
who is writing their own love story.. 

The moment she let him into her heart

She can remember the exact time 
she let him into her heart.

It wasn't on the day the actually met.
No, it was earlier

She's crying .
Easter time.
She has lit some candles.
Αt work, alone.
Everything seems to be crumbling at her feet.
And she feels so alone,
as every human being has felt 
at one time or another in our lives.

Phone rings.
It's him.
His soothing voice.
Maybe he's just fooling around.
Maybe he truly missed her 
and wanted to catch up with her news .
Just a voice
with no face.

Then, for some reason, 
at that particular moment
she let him in.
Into her heart.
He kept banging at the door 
of her heart 
for quite some time.
She would answer politely,
but wouldn't invite him in.

On that day,
she did open the door
and welcomed him inside.

Then  all kinds of magic broke loose....

Every Inch

''Ι' ll be inspecting every inch of your body'', he said, over the phone.

She laughed.

 Firstly because of the choice of words, 'inspect',

 what a strange thing to say...
And because she doubted they'll ever, (ever!) meet
And even if they did, they'd have other stuff to do,

 more likely nothing like  inspections, right?

Plus, inspecting what???
imperfections, came to her insecure mind
or harsh reality,
so different to the imaginary world they had been building over the last 5 months
she didn't like the sound of it
and quickly brushed it aside

14 months on
his fingers caressing her body
after a passionate session of love consummated
i n s p e c t i n g
every inch of it
the curve of her back
between her thighs
under those ear lobes
the sculp of her head, running fingers between locks of hair
the rough spot on her heels
inspecting 
again and again
looking for signs of change since the last time he met her
noticing the passing of time through his fingertips
just like he did the very first time they were naked together
i n s p e c t i n g
every inch of her body
as he had promised...
then tracing those inspected itineraries with soft kisses

Inspettore dell' Amore..

Just Souls

What's so strange 
about falling in love with a soul?

She fell in love with his mind 
and ideas
and his kind heart first.
Then, got enamored with his voice.
Then his deep caring for her.
His sensuality, ever present in all their interactions,
finished her off.
Swept her off her feet,
totally smitten
with everything except his physical.

She had no idea
what he looked like.
She did have a few clues of course.
Still, no expectations.

She knew she'd love his features.
She just knew it.
No two souls can be so infatuated with each other
unless the physical spark is there,
even in its potential form.

But having spent all this time
getting to know him intimately
without even seeing his face
meant that 
his physical form
was imprinted in her subconscious.
His face already sweetly familiar to her heart.

And when he did come along,
her soul exclaimed 
''There you are! I knew it it was you!''

And later on, looking at his picture, she goes
''How perfectly everything about him
matches his physical...''

Both right

''When I come to you, you won't even know it's me'', he said.

They were talking about their first meetup.
First ever.


''Of course I would! The very idea!
My soul would recognise you!
Anywhere! ''

He says nothing. Only chuckles.

It turns out, both of them were actually right......

First Impressions continued

What are you doing tonight?''

There is this younger man ,chatting her up.

She's bored.She is trying to find a way 

to politely let him know she's not interested

without hurting his feelings.

''Well, my kids are waiting for me and so...''

He presses on, undaunted.

He is too young and not her type anyway.

Then HE comes along.

Approaching quietly, like a tomcat.

The one she was so hoping to meet that afternoon,

the one she didn't know she was talking to at that moment.

''What kind of eyes are those?

 Gosh....so sweet and tender!''

( Her first impression of him)

and

''Who are you? It feels like I already know you from somewhere.''

Her second thought:

''Please ask me out. 

YOU should be the one to ask me out, 

not that boring boy who's trying to chat me up.

Go ahead and ask me out, I'll say yes!''

He doesn't ask her out.

Instead, he offers to escort her

to the nearest subway station.

It's getting late.

And she asks for his number first.

Fuck convention.

She wants to have a way to keep in touch with him.

But he wasn't planning 

on leaving her alone, anyway.

He had already schemed and staged their meeting after all...

Her clever schemer of a man...

And this is when I first felt it

Sitting in that cafe
in your part of the world 
on our first real date..

That moment 
when  I told you
 the things that were on my mind,
the burden in my heart
that I had been crazy afraid to say,
 and you just looked at me
 in the most heartbreakingly beautiful way, 
(as if I had already told you before),
a gleam of recognition of a kindred spirit
in your kind eyes,
looking at me like,
 “why was this such a big deal to tell me?”

And I felt it,
felt it going through me
the electrifying feeling:
''I'm as much in love with the real him
as with his crafted persona.....''

The Signing Of The Deal

She is tipsy
it's late afternoon
the restaurant is crowded
and they are both full and in a great mood
after a hearty meal
on this fine autumn afternoon
neither cold nor hot,
mellow, mellow,
his voice mellow,
sunshine mellow too
neither glaring nor weak,
but just fine,
and they are fine too
their first real date ever
(first meetings don't count)
and somehow it seems like they 've been dating for ever
a cozy familiarity between them
the thrill of anticipation 
and the warmth of familiarity
both present
''and how can that be?'' she is wondering.

She was nervous before
in the long hours it took her to reach her destination
overthinking,  overanalysing
and eager, oh ever so eager and excited
then she goes ''fuck it, I don't care, I'll just take a nap''
and she does, 
but when she wakes up with a jolt
she's finally there, 
and she suddenly sees him, waiting for her
''on time'', she mentally notes
but she's still half asleep, eyes still dreamy
and suddenly she's so shy

like the awkward adolescent she used to be years ago
and she wants some comfort to overcome her shyness
but the only comfort available is his arms
so she hugs him tight,
taking him by surprise,
because he didn't see it coming, 
because she seems nervous and agitated.

There goes all her poise and plans to look fabulous
she kisses him on the cheeks
he smiles
and opens the door of his car for her
she sinks in her seat
then suddenly a heavenly calmness dawns on her
it feels so natural and sweet being next to him
soaking in his smile
it feels, well, yes, a platitude, but so true
it feels like home.

Time flies
sparks fly
sparks and warmth
familiarity and excitement
how could that be? she wonders
tipsy and full and content
in that restaurant
a sweet, indescribable feeling
of belonging
all so natural and soul-soothing
her cheeks flashed by the wine
him leaning a bit too close

Then, out of the blue
he leans forward more
and kisses her
a kiss as soft as a whisper
tentative
his lips soft soft sweet
heavenly 
the velvety, moist texture of his lips
giving
and asking
inviting her in...

She walks in on his world and closes the door behind her without making a sound.

''You had me there, with that kiss, in that restaurant, '' 
she tells him, months later. 
''You sealed the deal with it''

''But you didn't respond at first, 
you didnt kiss me back'', he remarks.

''No, I didnt'', she smiles.
 ''You see,no deal is carried out 
immediately after it is signed.
 There is some waiting time involved''.

''Some waiting time it was! '' he laughs. ''A couple of hours later''

''Yes'', she answers back.
 '' I just couldn't wait to get my hands on the bonus!''

Αmazing Grace

Haze....

In a haze of pleasure

no other word can describe the sensation

and even that

doesn't come close

to what she has in mind to describe 

to her memory of that first night.

First night

their night

in that homely room apartment

up the second floor

of a small village house

so much cozier than an impersonal hotel room

so thoughtful of him

to arrange it this way.
Away from everyone and everything

She has no expectations

just trust

an overwhelming sense of trust

like, 

it's all so well arranged,

so well taken care of

she can just relax and enjoy.

Neither of them in a hurry

no, not steamy

but shimmering

sensuous anticipation

no urgency or hurried tension

just this amazingly soothing feeling

of having done this a thousant times before

though their bodies have never actually met 

in lovemaking before.

Warmth creeps onto her

as if emerging from his heart

and she can sense it

feeling ever so safe

he, in turn,  tells her

''you are so, so sweet''

somewhat taken aback by her openness

her precise responsiveness to him

as if in a slow, velvety tango

He lets her dictate the pace

nevertheless leading expertly
 lets her catch her breath for a moment

then takes her back to the dancing floor 

again and again and again and again

His stamina astounds her

-won't he ever get tired???-

she is unaccustomed

to so much loving

coupled with a whole feast of

touches

and kisses

and cuddling

and hugging

and whispers

and tenderness

and exploring fingers

and his truly gifted superpowers

like whipped cream on a yummy cake

She keeps wondering

''How could he possibly know

that I like this, and this and that and that?''

''Have I told him? Or is he just guessing?''

In a haze of pleasure

she keeps falling asleep, exhausted

only to be gently woken up again after a while

 soft whisper in her ears

''come on, doll face, it's yours for the asking...''

After a while

she surrenders

 to the sweet feeling

of being pleasured again and again and again

of not knowing

 when this sex marathon will ever end

of being fed and ravished and feasted upon

of the purely physical joy of endless lovemaking

Then it's morning

and her first thought upon waking up

(after just one and a half hour of a night's sleep)

is:

''Whipeee!

 We still have another day

ahead of us! 
Another day of THAT!''

More freedom. More life.

''This string necklace is choking you'', 
he observed. 
Morning after their first night together

''Now that you mentioned it,
yeah, it kind of feels too tight.
Please cut it off'', she asked.

And he did, with a penknife
and the immediate sense of relief was enormous.

''Boy, that one really was choking me''.
she observed.

Then went on to cut off all 6 of her necklaces.
New beginnings.
More freedom.
More life.

For both of them....

Real Tears

He was crying

Real tears
of the kind that can soak up a pillow,
of the kind that cannot be held back
of the kind that keep rolling down cheeks
like twin silent little streams of distress.

She sat up on the bed
perplexed
deeply moved
unsure of how he'd like her to deal with it
and of why he was crying.

Τheir time together -first ever!-
 almost up

she  was still in that special haze of pleasure
he had intentionally set up
the orgasm fairy world
of his own orchestration
and she was trying 
to let all those miracles of body and soul
 sink in
that orgy of colors
and smells 
and whispers 
and sighs
to just cool down.

''Ι won't think long term', she told herself.
'It was a once in a lifetime experience
'I'll just cherish the memories
make do with just this
a one time thing...''

that's what she told herself
plus, she didnt have much time to think of anything
at all,
too much fucking
too much loving
in that big, big bed
in that small, small rented room
in that small, small neutral town
in that heavenly, blissful date
of consumated love.

But it was almost parting time
and he was crying
in a very real and human way
her stud crying
for what?

''Why?''

''The dream is over'', he answers.
Just like that.
Simple.

''Then, you dont want it to be over?''
His calm, deep voice:
''No...''

Just like that,
they decide to
keep the magic alive
to keep it going
to be together.

No drama,
no waiting by the phone for her
like a true chivalrous knight
he spared her the pain
or the inner doubts
or the misgivings
the 'what ifs'
of ambiguity

no commitment phobia of his male ego
just gliding gracefully along
smoothly,
 flying
along the dancing floor of their budding love story.

She kisses him gratefully.
''But..how?'', the details seem too confusing to her.

'We'll find a way', he reassures her in that velvet voice of his.

Then off she goes,
all the takeaway delicacies he bought for her journey 
forgotten 
left behind in his car.

His Talisman

''I'll be coming to see you again this week'', 
he said 
when they were about to part.

She was still dazed and hazy
disoriented
and a bit undone 
from too much lovemaking
after their first weekend together.

She didn't have time to analyse,
rationalise,
ponder over things
or think about anything remotely related
with a continuation of all this.
She was too busy
drinking in the sensations.

But he said he'd be coming over...

She looks at him
''Yes!'' , she hears herself saying
grateful,
ever so grateful 
he wouldn't let her miss him
or wait by the phone...

Then here he is again
this time in her hometown
car wheels screeching,
car window rolled down,
flashing his gorgeous smile at her
and that overwhelming sensation of joy
tells her, 
beyond a shadow of a doubt,
that yes, she missed him so!

She greets him,
gets in his car 
and as he is driving down the road 
he shows her:
a long strand of her hair 
tied around the gear shift
like some kind of magic ribbon
or talisman of choice...
''I found it in our room when you left...'' 
he explains, almost coyly.

Then her heart swells with emotion
for that rare treasure of a man.

''I have always been a lucky girl'', 
she reminds herself
mentally grinning from ear to ear

Worthwhile

She loves the excitement in his voice
when they are discussing plans
 for his upcoming visit.

''He is looking forward to it'', she says to herself.
''Baby, I'm gonna make it worth your while,
just as much as you make it worth mine....''

Unexpected Bonus

Stressed 
she was back then
extremely low in life energy
her energy system on the verge of colapse
accident prone, 
in fact
alternating between stressed and lethargic
desperate..

There was no way out of her prison
except..
except for her to find something to love
and be loved back
something she deemed worthy
in essence, the only solution would be 
to be focusing her mind on something positive
and powerful enough to cause the transformation.
Love was the name.

He observed her from afar
tried to help in the abstract
didnt work..
she needed the tangible thing
the verification of another human being
in flesh and blood
caring...

So he took a deep breath and approached.

They created a strong vortex of love energy
that slowly started healing her
energising her
rejuvenating her
uplifting first her body
then her heart and mind.

then the unexpected bonus:

it worked both ways
empowering him too
filling his cup of joy too...
their vortex of love
the one they were lost in
hiding from the world
and finding their true selves

Molten Lava

It is real.

That Vortex of Energy is real.

Every time they come together,
to play,
talk,
laugh,
eat,
make love, 
touch,
hug, 
kiss,
text message,
sing, 
smell and bite each other,
their strong vortex of energy 
created afresh.

A vortex of irresistible power.

Not just love power.

A vortex of a myriad of streams of unique energy, 
made up of their combined vibrations
produced and dispersed into the world around them
palpable
almost visible 
certainly tangible
like a yummy rainbow of palpitations
surrounding them
oozing silently, 
soaking up their bodies
then their bed,
their nest, 
their neighborhood
their town
thei silently radiating to all four corners of the earth.

The life force of each
his strong, intent, intuitive one
hers sweeter, charming and joyous 
combined in a unique gem of energy.

They sense it themselves
nourishing them
relaxing them,
rejuvenating them.

But so do other people.
People smell it off them
on their bodies
his and hers.
Like a fine aroma.
Or an exquisite film of golden pixie dust.

Most are attracted to this fine blend of super-charged merge
wanting a bite off it
or curious, not quite knowing why
few are enraged (envy?)
but all noticing it
and usually commenting on it:
''Hey, what did ya do to your face?''

Their combined love energy
spilling over
like iridescent molten lava.

Off They Go

Those very first moments in his car.
She gets in
Sits down, flustered. And happy.
Their time together begins, that's why.
She adjusts her skirt, looks up at him.
He is always half smiling, merriment, amusement and?...
She always talks first
Something silly, a platitude.
''I missed you''.
''Me too''.
He shifts the car into gear, wheels screeching, off they go.
Their private haven, their sanctuary, their salvation.
Off they go, 
off they went....

''You dont know me.
You don't love me, you love the experience'', he accuses.
She lowers her eyes, tears hovering, tears rolling down freely.
So harsh, so unfair....

No explanations.
She shuts eyes. 
Whispers:
''YOU are the experience...
You are my experience.
I love YOU...''

Off they go ...

Eye Poetry

''What's the first thing you noticed about me?''
''Your eyes. You?''
''Your eyes...''

Lost in his eyes, she is.
Unspeakably attractive.
Radiating warmth, interest, amusement.
Kind eyes.
Extremely intelligent eyes.
Loving eyes.
Lying eyes (sometimes)
Calm eyes
Penetrating eyes, reading souls
Sexy and serious eyes
Reliable, trustworthy eyes
Wide-eyes
Eyes that know how to hide or take on roles
Naughty, playful eyes
Adoring eyes
Compassionaste, so compassionate eyes
Smiling eyes
Flirty eyes

His eyes.

'Your eyes are strange', she tells him.
Not because they keep changing.
But because they are so intense,
no matter what expression they are wearing.'

First time one sees those eyes, 
one feels like stepping back.
Like,wow, this is too much.
Too much of himself 
piercing into your soul.
And it catches you unawares
and you feel a bit like gasping.
Too intense. Way too intense.

Then, you exhale and begin to enjoy it

First Impressions

-''What was your first impression of me
when you saw me?'', she asks him.

-''Honestly?''
-''Yes.''

-''I thought you were too thin 
back then
and with a drawn out face...
But I was so taken by those eyes of yours,
 they sort of obliterated everything else.
''Those eyes had me...''

Up in the Mountain Cabin

Up in the Mountain Cabin

To be snowing outside

and the wind howling like it does up there

blowing billows of snowflakes

and to be pitch dark

 because there aint no street lamps up in the mountains baby

and the fire crackling away


and the wine is red red red and sweet

and the chocolate treats are sweet sweet and chocolatey

and the water up there is tasty

 because it comes from a special spring

and the cabin is cozy

and the bedcovers are warm

and his smile is warmer

and she feels all warm and cozy inside

as she always does in his presence

and they spend all time there is

talking

eating and drinking

and fucking

and basking

 in the warmth of each other's presence

content

happy

in love

their love story


και χιονιζει και χιονιζει

κι η αγαπη τους ανθιζει

και η αλεπου χορευει

και ο λυκος αγορευει...

Like A Dog. Or A Wolf

She'd sleep in his arms, exhausted, 
during their first weekend in the mountains together, 
then wake up after a while still in his arms  to see him still wide awake, waiting for her...

Hours upon hours of loving
and cuddling
and talking
and enjoying each other
no sleeping or eating for him
like a dog
or like a wolf
mating
intent on an age-old purpose.


She'd admire his stamina
his strong will guiding an equally strong body
his insatiable desire to please her body
and nourish her soul
she soaked in that sweet sweet feeling 
of being the intense focus of one's tenderness

''Oh but surely, he's bound to fall asleep eventually?'', she wondered.

Then after two sleepless days of strong amour
he finally falls asleep
she tiptoes away from the bed
relieved for him to finally be getting some rest

she treats herself to some chocolate
watches the shadows growing longer and longer
on the mountains out of the window
warms herself by the fire
warmth creeping into her mind, her heart, her body
still open and a bit raw from their lovemaking

she checks on him lying peacefully on the bed
then she realises he's been watching her behind half closed lids
his gaze following her around

she climbs on the bed, laughing

''You must be either a genius or a saint to be able to go 48 hours without sleep'', she whispers to him.

''Or a madman'', he jokes back, smiling

''Like him'', she mentally comments.
''Exactly what I was looking for, equal parts of madness and genius.''

''That's my man''

Then she stops thinking
and starts feeling
as she always does when buried in the nest of his arms

On The Importance Of Lingerie

When they first started dating
she'd go on a lingerie hunting spree each time they were about to get together
she loved the feeling
hunting for sexy lingerie for him
frilly, flimsy, lacey, pretty little things
to adorn her body
make her pretty and desirable in his eyes
''men have a thing with watching , just as we women have with listening'',
she'd repeat to herself
as she kept rummaging through aisles of bras

 laden with ribbons and lace
she  would try to find a particular set that would set the right tone for their next night:
sexy and seductive
or all pastel and girly and innocent?
as the sales girl was handing her her shopping bag
she'd mentally recreate the atmosphere
around those sexy underwear pieces
she'd rehearse the looks, the moves, the sounds
smiling to herself
in sweet anticipation
girly, silly enthusiasm that crept into her heart
keeping her warm and happy 
until it was time for him to come back to her

then he was there
and they were kissing in sheer abandon
and it was time for her to do her thing
her sexy underwear thing
to drive him crazy

but..
he was crazy for her already...
and she was oh so hungry for him
and so
always, always, always
she'd get rid of the carefully selected, seductive underwear
throw them carelessly about
needless distractions that they were
and head straight into his arms
butt naked and giggly and warm 

and happy

''My beauty''...

''Ομορφιά μου'', he tells her

''My beauty''...

First thing in the morning.
When she's just woken up.
Eyes still bleary from sleep

Hair in a terrible mess
frightful enough to scare 
the brave hairstylist on the face of this planet
Not a speck of makeup on her.

'My beauty''...he tells her.
And she melts like butter on toast...

Dates

Watching the light outside 
getting dimmer and dimmer,
the car windows 
getting more and more fogged up, 
their breaths quickening,
bodies engaged
in the ancient tango 
of love and lust...

Precious,
steamy moments,
all their own...

Back and Forth....

''How long will you be staying?''

She always asks that.
It goes like this:

-''What are you doing tomorrow ?''
-''Nothing much. Why?''
-''Because I thought I'd be coming over, can you...???''
-Yaaaaaaayyyyyyyy! How long will you be staying?''
Answers vary:
-''Three days'' or ''three hours'' or ''just for today''

The three hours thing makes her weep.
Secretly.
With gratitude.

Realizing he goes to all that trouble, 
expenses
time he cannot afford
planning
sometimes even scheming
and plotting
just to come to her,
 just for a few hours
just to hold her
make love to her
fill them both up
with stars and stardust after he leaves again,

to beam himself to her place
as if by magic,
except this kind of magic utilises 
his own exhaustion
 at the end of the day.

She weeps secret tears
of gratitude
for his thoughtfulness
tenderness
and chivalry 
at doing this for her
and not the other way round...

Her archangel of lust
beaming himself to her
for three hours of bliss....

How do you combine two different worlds?
Totally different worlds?
You don't.
You just beam yourself there
loving all the way
back and forth...

My Cartoon

''Yeah, you're my cartoon!'' he tells her.

Sitting at that busy outdoor cafe,
people coming and going,
he tells her she looks like a cartoon character.

'' In an ugly, horrible way?'', she asks, laughing.

''No, in a cute, sweet and adorable way!

Her charming man.

Who has a way with words
and with cute little endearments,
all their own, 
 just for them..

Σκυψε Ευλογημενη

''Quick, duck down!'' 
He pushed her head down at the right fraction of the second before they were spotted.

''Come up now,'' he said, ''it's over.''
And they start laughing hysterically 
at the absurdness of it.
''What says you?'' he asks.
''One. Your reflexes are vey good'', she smiles.
''Two. You kept reassuring me, 'dont worry, dont worry
we weren't spotted' the whole time. That's very sweet.
And you operate well under stress.
I love you''

He kisses her goodbye. 
So much for ducking down in the first place!
And as he revs up, windows rolled down, 
he makes the ducking movement with his hand
and the hysteric laughter goes on.
Filling that small town
with the merriment of love

Same star sign

The joy.

The sheer joy 
of being loved by someone
whose mind works 
in the same range of frequencies,
whose heart beats
to the beat of the same drums.

So comforting
to have your thoughts almost read at times.

To be so much alike.
To be born under the same star signs.

''There's a special magic 
about the time we were both born, baby''
he tells her.

''In times gone by 
conception of people born under our sign was rare,
because it would have to happen during Lent
-the fasting period before Easter- when people had to observe fasting and abstain from sex... the church somehow knew that people born under that sign are too rebellious, weird and uncontrollable for the establishment's safety,
so they  had to stop their creation by raising religious taboos''.

Yes, she loves the way that mind of his works...

Forget humdrum about opposites attracting each other.
See what happens 
when two people
born under the same star sign
fall in love
and set out to love each other
as only they know how....

Changes....

Everything we have changes us at a physical level
like a fever
like a new job
a new car
a new friend
or a soulmate

Soul mates change us the most, admittedly.

The body follows suit , she observes,
as the soul renews itself
the soul playing in physical reality
with new things, new people, new experiences.

Observing, noticing
in her mirror
in his eyes
or in other people's stares:

Her face
getting dewyer
sweeter
hues of peach
eyes radiant
body softer
each and every one of the cells
in her entire body smiling
gait lighter
stars and glitter
except of the real kind.
She feels soaked in stars
and it shows, oh yes, it shows.

The real surprise though
is the ripening within
heart dripping mellow acceptance
of what is
and mind laser focused
sharper
more eager than ever
even her writing style changed.

'Energy transfer,', she tells him
'that's what it is'
'My female part 
becoming extra receptive
to your energy'.
'I like your energy', she adds.
'It's loaded with stars'

'What about star overload?' he mocks

'No worries,' she mocks back.
'It goes both ways'

'Communicating vessels'

That Old Churchyard

Countless times have they made love
in front of that old churchyard
in that secluded churchyard
overlooking the small town.

Their favorite spot,
watching the light dimming
all around the wooded hill,
town lights flickering
like enchanted little stars
at their feet in the distance.

And the old fortress church
dating back to the time of knights and heroes,
the old church 
with all its saints
silently watching over them,
keeping guard at their back

keeping guard of their dreams....

Rose Magic

A person who is in love has wings on their feet, 
she knows that
everyone knows that.

Love heals everything, empowers everything

She loves rituals .
Rituals that have meaning only for her.
Her personal brand of magic.
She wants to celebrate an anniversary of love
on a beautiful full moon week.

She chooses roses, her favorite flower.
Their love is a multisplendour thing,
so multi-colored roses it is.

She won't buy the rose, 
for love has nothing to do with buying-and-selling.
It must be found, searched for,encountered or freely given.
She walks all over the town, outskirts and all.
Many abandoned homes with gardens
full of rose beds
surviving as if by miracle.
She has spotted them on her daily walks.
Then there are friends' and relatives' gardens 
she 'll stop by, asking for rose blessings.

She returns home with one red, red rose
seven multi-colored ones in full bloom
and a tender rose bud.
All hand-picked, found or begged for.
All so fragrant and beautiful, 
you'd think you're gonna faint
just by smelling them.

Each rose stands for an aspect of their love

-Crimson-Red Rose for the physical, sexual part of their love
-White Rose for the pure, unconditional, selfless love
-Pink Rose for the romantic, tender, youthful, cherished love
-Violet-purple Rose for spiritual communion of soul love
(a rare thing that emits the headiest fragrance of them all)
-Magenta Rose for passion, empowerment and freedom
-Orange Rose for joy, exuberance, festivity and lightheartedness
-Yellow Rose for deeper understanding, companionship, frendship
and a small rose bud so that love is always new and budding

She boils the petals of the red one
mixes them with honey and some brandy
makes herself a delicious rose tea
puts the rest of the roses in a crystal bowl
She drinks to their loving
his and hers

Blessed be the love that stands the test of time.....

My Houdini

She says:
''I'm your personal Houdini.
I do my disappearing art
and you disappear in my arms
lost to the world''


He nodds his head
'You are my haven,my retreat. 
I come to you and I'm lost to the world, 
away from everything'

She smiles.
She loves magic tricks of disappearing

Revelations

She doesn't remember much 
of the best part of that day.

They took a day trip to that lake
she wanted them to visit.
Except it was raining hard all day,
boat trip was cancelled.
They ended up in a little taverna instead.
Crowded, it was a puplic holiday.

She was unaccustomed 
to that particular kind of strong liquor,
got drunk on it .
He had to practically carry her
back to his car.

As sick as a dog she was
and in her drunken stupor
she remembers asking him,
again and again:
''Who are you?''
Each time she asked,
he would give her a different name,
while driving along,
smiling, amused
humoring her, 
playing along.

''You have to stop , NOW!'' she said.
He pulled over,
came round to open her door,
held her hair
while she was being sick on the road side.

After that she can't remember much, 
except for that dog.
Big brute.
What the heck was a dog doing in the middle of nowhere?
He was friendly with him 
but not with her,
kept trying to snap at her hand, 
he had to hurry her into the car again.

She fell asleep on his car seat
and he kept driving along.
She woke up still there, 
tucked under his coat
him patiently waiting for her.

''I am ruining your life'', he said.
''I should have never come to you in the first place''

He never explained what he meant...

That Square

''I'm warning you'', she tells him over the phone.

''We're gonna be holding hands tomorrow. 
And kissing in public,
'tis the right city for public displays of affection''
''Downtown?'' he asks.
She can sense a smile in his voice.
''Yes. You'd better get used to the idea''.

Then the next day he's waiting for her 
at that picturesque historical square
bearing the name of an ancient philosopher
on the seafront, under those beautiful arches.
Early morning, 
the city awakes
to a cloudy, gloomy sky.

She is late,
or maybe she isn't,
she's just so eager to see him.
Missed him. 
It's been almost two weeks.
She's in the upper part of the street
leading to the square,
she's just gotten off the bus.
God, how she missed him.
Eagerness and happy anticipation
swelling in her chest, 
she starts running towards the seafront
towards him, waiting for her.

Cheeks flashed
-it's still cold-
she's running  
among empty cafes and tavernas
lining up the side of the square.

There he is, smiling 
and she can sense his smile
even before she sees it
and she almost throws herself at him
kissing him
and now he is laughing:
''Judging by the way you ran,
that passer by thought you were about to attack me,
you should see the look on his face''
''Told you to get used to public displays of affection'',
she retorts, face buried in his collar,
getting quick whiffs of his beloved smell.

She can sense his joy too.

What a glorious feeling,
to be your lover's pride and joy....

Old Houses

They are in his car, he is driving.

Scenic landscape out of the windows.
Sunshine. And cold.
Early Spring it is.
They joy of having a whole day ahead of them.
His calm, reassuring presence.
Her eagerness and excitement.
He is up to something, she can tell.

Arriving at a small village.
He is making a phone call.
''To a friend'', he says (the little lier!)
''He has a room for us''.
A man is waiting for them.
Guides them to the place
and
she goes ''gosh!'', catching her breath.
A very old, granny house.
Like the ones she used to explore
as a kid in her hometown

Abandoned-like exterior
Wooden front door
Derelict atmosphere
Long, winding interior staircase
lovely mustiness
dust and memories of times gone by
nice little rooms
granny feeling
antique lamps
whitewashed walls
paint peeling
lovely

and a cheerful lady changing sheets in the bed for them
silk ones
extra blankets
inquiring look on her face
and a few questions hovering on her lips
''This was my mother's-in-law house,
'needs renovation, we haven't gottwen round to it'',
as she is trying to determine their status
couple? engaged? affair? fucking buddies?
she gives up, she cant tell
leaves them
murmuring about coffee and buscuits
in the cluttered little kitchen

they jump in that little bed
to warm themselves
cold, crispy atmosphere
befitting that old home
old bed covers
decadence view from battered shutters

heaven....
her teenage dream come true...
did he know?
or a coincidence?
who cares?

Afterwards
she's concerned about the stained bedsheets 
they are leaving behind
a few bloody splotches
of her menses
''Don't worry'', he laughs
''she 'll think I ''deflowered ' you

Off they go, laughing and teasing
it's getting darker outside...

In Full Bloom

''That's the place'', he says
 pulling the car over to a litttle sideway.
''Nice and cozy here''.

Early spring.
The heating on
inside his car
their breaths and desire 
keeping it nice and warm.
And soothing, too

Dusk time,
beautiful, soft magenta and purple colours 
of a heart-warming sunset
dying the country sky,
to their right green sloping hills
dotted with villas or little country houses
to the left a small country road
with the occasional lights of a car
interrupting the falling darkness.

His mouth, his teeth, his breathing
so close to her ear
as he lowers himself ontο her
''my little foxy...''

She engulfs herself into his energy
enjoying the moment
rises with the familiar wave
of those love-induced, passion-lit,
spine-quivering highs of hers,
and as she is slowly coming down from her peak
she turns her head and sees it:

they are parked under a beautiful tree
in full bloom
a magnificent canopy of white flowers
hovering over the car
white cascades of (plum?) blossoms
framing the windows all around them
like a joyous statement
punctuating their lovemaking

His breathing still in her neck
his body lightly draped over hers
and the stars already visible
through the branches of that gorgeous tree
ladden with white, white blossoms

'I love being a country girl'', she reminds herself

A cold, cold winter's night

''All 's clear'', she says. ''You may come now''.

She hangs up 
warms up
 some chicken for him,
turns up the heating, 
lights up some candles.

Mid-winter
and bitterly cold outside.
Foggy, too. 
Dreamlike-foggy,
the kind of foggy you see 
in old thriller movies.

He arrives ten minutes later, 
his teeth chattering,
shivering from cold,
from having been woken up in the middle of the night
and from walking out in the freezing cold.

She crawls up in bed beside him.
''I'll warm you up in no time, baby...'', 
she promises.

And she does...

Bull's Eye

Their destination:
a 13th century old cloister.

Driving in a small country road,
 winding upwards in the rising hills.
Warm sunshine,
light mood
and a heated car seat for her
because it's still cold
and he likes indulging her
and she loooves it!

Countryside green
alternating between wooded hills
and open meadows.
It seems theirs is the only car
on the road.

Suddenly,
a herd of free range cattle
scattered all over the place
blocking their way,
and a huge bull
standing right in front of their car.
Calm but obstinate,
with the confidence of his bulk
and the defiance of an alfa male
protecting his territory,
not moving an inch
just standing there,
staring at them.

''Now what?'', she wonders.
''They can be dangerous,
 once provoked, you know''.


He winds down his car window.
''Hey! Move !''

The bull hears the commad in his voice
and obeys, head down
slowly moving aside
and taking the rest of the herd with him
granting them a pass.

''I was damn scared for a moment,''
she tells him as he drives on.
''That beast was huge.''
''Did you see his enormous balls?''
she adds laughingly.

Then, after some thought:
''...but obviously, your balls are bigger than his!''

It Began All Wrong

''But It began all wrong, '' he thinks to himself.
''The wrong way.
''Wrong is wrong.
It started out shallow, 
almost a prank,
for fun, you know??''

Another conquest
to prove a point
as many other countles, countless times.
He felt powerful, all-omnipotent
and clever.
And invincible
By all.
By love and other nonsense.

So he realises along the way 
it's now gotten to something serious. 
Palpable. 
Cherished by both.

Who did it?
Her yearning?
Or his secret longing?
Who cares?
All it matters is, it's here now.

He realises and tells her so,
tells her, 
so that he soothes his heart
for starting it out the wrong way.
He tells her, ''we need to talk, this is getting serious''

She looks on, wide eyed.
She knows, how could she not?
She is part of his heart now,
so of course she knows.
No need for words to come tumbling out,
she just knows what's in his heart.

He has started craving a simple and true thing
in a world full of fake,
overly complicated
overly irrelevant nonsense.
He wants s o m e t h i n g that fits.
Nicely.
Doesn't wonna hurt her.
This beautiful thing they have,
he wants it all purified.
All perfected, sparkingly clean.
Sanctified.
Dignified.

And the fact it started out all wrong
pains him.
Like a thorn in a rosy, young flesh.
It just doesn't belong there.

He wants to either put it to rights
or release the pain.
Or make everything about it perfect,
to make up for its fake beginning.

''Baby, the word doesn't work this way.
''All dolled up.
''This world we live in?
''Full of mistakes.
''Full of regrets.
''Imperfect.
''Fragile.
''Nothing fits like a glove.
''Nothing is hustle-free, 
pain-free,
wrong-free.''

''You are here
and all I need.''
''Perfection reigns only in fairy tales.''
''Gimme the raw you.
''All of it.
''Real and Raw.
''And Hurting as Hell sometimes.
''Because it's real, in the flesh.
''Imperfectly beautiful 
and so divinely perfect''

I'm done wirth fairy tales'', she says.
''Give me the real, raw thing''.

Then waits, until her message could sink in.

And keeps waiting
for imperfection to surface
and to be lovingly shared.

The Nest

Their nest
To house and nurture their love
Small, perched up there
their one-bedroom portal to their universe
their extra big bed
for extra big doses of velvety hugs
and honey-dripping lovemaking
and him kissing her again and again
hungry, noisy kisses leaving an invisible trace all over her body
and her smelling his body
like a happy little animal
and coffee making
and moon gazing on rooftops
and spilling love over the world
like molten lava

Wishing Time Would Stop On Its Tracks

Happens to her all the time since she met him.

Wishing time would stop on its tracks

please God, 
please universe 
please time fairy 
please my angel 
please rainbow of good luck
please whoever is in charge of the passing of time
freeze time for me

when...
-kisses and sighs are happening in equal doses
-soul gazing into each other's eyes
-her in his arms
-him in her
-them in each other

please freeze time for me, she asks
whoever you are in charge of the passing of time


it aint fair
this passing of time...
like a flash when they are together,
then going into reverse mode, 
in slow motion when they are apart

time goes by so quickly..
when joy is dripping from every corner of their soul...
then it's time for him to go away again
back to his grey world
and her back to hers

'when's the next time?' she asks
he answers
and she immediately counts days
mentally classifying...
either 'fine'
or 'bearable'
or 
'oh God please give me strength'...

then she realises
all those mystics are right
time does not exist
we always live 
in the eternal Now
of
Togetherness

Forever
Like a happy ending of a fairy tale

loving is in the eternal forever of Now

and she falls asleep smiling...
dreaming of their Now...

Five Times Five

''Five times five'', he said.

''I dont believe you were counting'',she said.

''I'm not! Oh, ok, I am', he smiles at her.

'Don't tell anyone about it', he advises,
 half serious, half joking.
'For one thing, they won't believe you.'
'For another, it's good to protect one's self 
from stupid envy'.

''No need to'', she answers back.
''Bliss shows on face, 
clearly and eloquently.
Everyone knows , 
at a gut level, 
just by looking at us''.


''Our combined light
lights up by example
drab days,
drab towns.
drab lives...''

First Moments

That very first moment.

When she sees him again 
after it's been some time.

First, there's this initial shock.
No better word to describe it.
'Cause his eyes are so intense
that they make her shudder.
Something indescribable about that face
making her shudder with joy.
She is taken aback for a moment,
by those intense dark eyes
fixed on her eyes,
searching her face,
piercing her soul.

You gotta love those eyes.

Then she's overwhelmed with joy:
 ''God, I love the shit outta this man!
And he's here, with me!
And he will be here for sometime!
This is Heavens!''
She throws herself at him
hugging him,
kissing him
melting in his arms.

Yes, she loves him..
But the best part is,
that sweet feeling 
that she is loved back....

I Shall Eat

''Why is it that I can't seem 
to get enough of you?
Ever?''

She is asking in earnest
 and expecting an answer. 
She trully believes
 he might have a clue.

''Why can't I get enough of you
 in the physical?
Like, even when I'm full,
 I still wonna have some more?
Have I turned into a greedy bitch, or what''

''Don't know'', he laughs.
''But there is a greek saying 
that goes
'when there is food offered , eat it.
when there is a beating up , beat it'

''Eating it is then'', she declares.

And digs in

Countryside Chapels

''Let's drive down this road'',
 he points at a small winding dirt road,
lost in the woods.

She hesitates. 
It's her homeplace,
 but she hasn't been there before, 
has no idea where it is leading up to.

''Οk, let's go''.

Just a dirt road.
Among fir trees.
Late spring
but so windy.
She likes it being there
of all places with him.
She likes his driving.
His calmness matching the serene countryside.
He is always calm,
except when he gets mad.

Winding further down that road,
descending, 
ascending
and it occurs to her it doesn't matter 
whether they reach a destination.
Anywhere is great 
so long as they are together.

Driving, driving down that dirt road.
Idyllic woods scenery.
Then they see it
That lonely little church
perched up on a hill.
''Countryside chapels'', 
they are called here,
varying in size and architecture
scattered all over roads, highways and village squares .

They arrive on that hilltop.
Breathtaking view beneath their feet.
''Please park the car a bit closer to  the churchyard,''
she pleads.
Too near the edge of the cliff,
it makes her nervous.

But then,
it's lovemaking time
in that car of his
overloaded with love and lust
parked outside a country chapel
overlooking the green valley.
And her nervousness
turns into that cozy feeling
of hotness rising, building up
in waves and cascades.

It's windy and the sky is getting darker
and it's drizzling
when they are finally headed home
car stereo blasting one of his favorite songs
he'd like to share with her.

It's moving.
The song,
the silent road
lit by the car headlights
that blissful feeling of contentment
in this moment they are sharing

Is there a thing such as

bliss overload?

Transfering

''I dont believe in energy transfer 
and the like bullshit'',
he tells her.

The next moment he puts his palm
on her forehead
doing energy transfer.

She senses it.
Smiles.
She likes that particular brand
of energy.
Strong and calm.
Her favorite flavor.

''We are communicating vessels after all'', 
she tells herself.

Parting

When it's time to go,
melancholy sets in,
a clenching fist in her chest.

Maybe he feels it too,
but they get busy
getting dressed 
sorting things out,
picking up stuff,
putting out the rubbish
and the pain gets numbed for a while, 
until he locks the door
and off they go
down the stairs.

But on the way down
she always poses
as the parting pain 
is gripping her again,
so she in turn grabs him
and kisses him 
long and hard
there
on the stair landing.

He kisses her
long and hard too
murmuring
'mmmmmmmm'',
as they both comfort each other
with their goodbye kiss.

She tries to concentrate 
on the beauty of the days 
they 've just spent, 
concentrate on the comfort
of the moments they've shared
but the pain is still there.

It's parting time, baby
but my heart never parts with yours.....

Missing you

 I miss you.

I always miss you so.

The second you leave,

I miss you.

 And even before sometimes.

I swear I miss you

even before you leave,

knowing that parting time is getting closer.

I've learnt to love you

missing you all the time.

Sometimes the missing is 

bitter sweet,

bearable, hopeful.

Othertimes it's searing hot,

hard and unbearably sad.

Then I tell you about it.

And you somehow feel responsible

for my missing you

and you get angry for 'me not being reasonable',

because it's hard enough for you

trying to contain your own missing of me,

but mine,my sadness for missing you

that is too much for you.

And you get distant and angry

for my missing you like that

because your being distant somehow

makes parting sadness

more bearable...

Until next time....

Sleeping

On the occasions
they can spend the night together,
really sleep together,
not just make love,
they have established a routine:

she falls asleep in his arms
her head nestled in his chest
his nose buried in her hair
cheesily romantic 
but sooo comforting
for both.

Then, after a while
when it becomes uncomfortable,
they turn back to back
but still needing to touch each other.
If either of them wakes up
 in the middle of the night
they move their  body closer 
to be in full body contact again.

She says:
''I love it when we're spooning
and you have your leg on top of me,
leg hugging is the best.''

He says:
''I love it when you 're asleep
and I have your butt
touching my body''

hedonism, sweet and tender...

''What is it?''

''What is it that makes me so crazy about him?''

She often wonders about that.
Why him?
Why THIS much?

Then the answer comes automatically.
As if in a whisper in her ear:
''Because he is ALWAYS with me.
Always. 
Caring.
Loving.
Advising.
Joking.
Stalking.
Listening.
Caressing.
Touching.
Fucking.
Wiping tears.
Sharing laughs.
Sharing knowledge.
Sharing nonsense.
Sharing life.

Always.
Even when he's miles and miles away.
He still finds a way to do all that
and then some more.

Even if there is a big burden in her heart
and she feels like crying
and hiding from the world
he'll somehow find a way in.
In her heart or mind.
Or both.
Not obtrusively or blatantly.
More like in a 'I'm here if you need me' way.

Day or night.
He is ALWAYS there for her.
Never tires of it.
His stamina in bed only matched 
by his emotional endurance superpowers.

''Maybe this is too tiring for you,
maybe you can't stand it...''
he once texted her.
''Maybe it's overwhelming...''

''Let me see if I understad this'', she asks.
''You embody a hero straight out of a romance novel
and you're asking me if  I don't like all this attention?'' 

''Yes. Quite a few grow tired of it.''

''But I' m not like those 'quite a few' '', she says.

Most people are foolish little children 
when it comes to love.
They keep asking for new shining toys 
then discard them as soon as they have them
lusting after a new toy.

''Not me''
''I never tire of chocolate, love and you.
''I can have tons of chocolate, love and you
and still ask for more''.
''That's MY superpower.''

''Birds of a feather....''

Smells Divine

She's making coffee.

He's just arrived,
smiling and out of breath 
from climbing all those flights of chairs.
'Hello foxy!''

Their welcoming kiss-and-hug ritual.

He reaches for something
from the shelf
and she catches a whiff of his smell
that beloved smell of his.

He smells of comfort,
love
and sex 
of the particular flavor she likes best.

She nuzzles up to his neck,
a slight catch in her breath,
drinking him in,
instantly affected,
intoxicated,
swaying to and fro from pure pleasure,
because she missed him so...

Come here..'', he whispers in her ear.
her waist cupped in his arms

Wishes

''Make a wish'', she asks him.

''All right''.

''Now, let's blow the candles together.''

So they do.
Blow the two birthday candles simultaneously.
One for him, one for her.
Each standing for a heartfelt longing.

Because time flies.
But loving moments
stay in memory forever...

Heady

''Don't park the car this close to the edge'', 
she asks.
''I get dizzy..''

But she soon forgets 
about her fear of heights
because their lovemaking
 is by far
a much headier drug 
than heights...

Make a goddess of me

You moan,
deep inside me
as you give youself to me
as you're giving me your true essence
and you are free
and you are your true self
and you are my god..

I love your moans..
they are making a goddess of me...

Duck Feeding

''He scares me'', she says.

''How can a male duck scare you?'' he asks, laughing.

''He invades my personal space.
Too close to my hands for comfort.
 And that malicious look in his eye? 
It scares the living shit outta me!'',
 she answers back.

He doesn't seem to mind the duck 
demanding crumbs 
in a passive-aggressive manner.
Animals love him,
naturally gravitate towards him
begging for food,
play or petting.

Attuned to them he is, 
because he knows 
how to love them back.

But she knows his best petting
is kept only for her!

Greedy

''You were so hogging the blankets last night!'' 
he tells her over morning coffee.

It's one of the rare,
ever so rare occasions
they can sleep together
the whole night through.

''All of them? Hogging all three of them?''
she asks, laughing.

''All three of them'', 
he says, faking seriousness.
''You had one wrapped around you,
another one you half-snatched away from me
and the last one was all crumbled up
behind you so that I couldn't take it 
without waking you up''.

''You 're making this up!''
she protests, playing along.
''I ain't never done such a thing!''

''You did too, you did too, you did too!
he is laughing that hearty laugh of his.

''You're a greedy little vixen''...

Ever since

You love women,
in a tender, totally protective way
and they sense it and love you back, my love.

Watching you interact with women live
you just listening to them
as they become bubbly and talkative
 like little girls in your presence,
I sit there by your side, half smiling,
watching your charisma unfolding in action.

And I 'm one proud, proud woman
because
you picked me first
before I picked you
and you keep picking me up ever since.....

Sweetly

 It was her trust 
that first did it for him,
her trust that kept him going.

 She gave it 
with no strings attached.

What exactly was the thing
 that he found so enticing about her? 

Pretty, ok, 
but there is never a shortage
of even prettier ones
in his life.
She could see how 
there were many stares, 
many suggestive smiles,
 even overt invitations from women . 

She enjoys seeing him admired, 
wanted,
lusted after.
Of course.
 He is charming,
 intelligent,
 handsome.
Has his way with women.

So what's about her 
that makes her special 
to his heart,
makes him want to stay?

“It’s your heart”, he told her once.
''You are open and honest, 
no pretences, nothing fake.  ''

She knew what he meant was,
 it’s more than that she loves him. 

She loves him sweetly.

With all her heart.
No reserves,
 just pure, unadultered trust.
Trusting his every motive,
thought, 
word,
action.

Being held captive
 of his mind and heart
as much as he is of hers.

She loves him sweetly.
And so does he...

Οur Poems of Love

Warmth
creeping into my heart
discovering a long, golden hair of mine
tied around the gear lever of your car
like some sort of talisman,
on our second time together.

My heart melting
like hot chocolate fudge
discovering my purple lace g-string
of our first night together
tucked up 
next to the driver's seat of your car
1000 days after that night.

It is because our common story memories count 
for you as much as for me, 
it is because of this
that I keep writing those stories,
our Poems of Love...

It cant be real

''You can't be together,
it's physically impossible,
it's not real''
this one commented.

''Let them wonder how''
he said

His very real, very warm, very tender hands
going up and down her spine
caressing her belly, 
warming up the place her ovaries nestle
keeping them in perfect working order,
working his personal magic on her body.

Her very real orgasm
warming her insides,
as he nestles her head
on his chest,
pulling her close
his hands still warming her back.

''Go home now baby,
you are needed'',
 his caring always a warm blanket on her soul

''Just five more minutes'',
 she bargains, 
''not yet''...

''Yes''she muses, walking home.
''It's not real, it cant be real.
Something this heavenly must be a dream.''

A dream that goes on for years....

Beautiful Things

Uphill, uphill he's driving,
uphill, uphill they go.

Into the mist,
towards a famous mountain tourist resort-village.
The winding mountain road
diasppearing into the clouds.
Breathtaking view on both sides.

''Last weekend I was here with friends,''
he explains,
''and it was a really cool place,
but somehow something was missing;
you!''

They stop at a picturesque little village,
traditional stone houses and all,
and a picturesque little cafe
overlooking the valley.
Christmas decorations still on
and heart-shaped cookies with their coffee.
They are looking at eight puppies
that look like like a wolf's pack
venturing into the little square outside
and holding hands 
and talking
and basking at each other's presence.

Because most beautiful things
are never meant to be enjoyed solo...

Fifty Shades Of Boring

A friend gives her Fifty Shades of Gray
 to read
in an ebook form
to see for herself what this fuss is all about.

She has high hopes,
she likes reading since she was three
and erotic is her kind of thing.

She cant get even to read half the book,
utterly
totally
uninspiringly
boring...

Then she knows and smiles
and tells him so:
''It's your fault ya know.
You destroyed all erotica books for me.
All shades of grey are doomed to be as boring and grey as their name denotes
compared to the lush of colors
you have painted our lovemaking with...''

Fifty Shades of  Boring Grey
or my Real Lover's Rainbow of Love?

Beating The Odds

'The odds are against you two',
 a little she-devil whispered in his ear
when they first met
the serendipity of their bumping up on each other
getting to know each other
keeping in touch
being too surreal and fairy-like
to be considered either true or viable.

'The odds are against him', she told herself
'I will guard my heart,
'he's used to playing around,
'it won't come up to anything,
'it's just, you know, talking,
'there are no feelings involved,
'I won't risk my heart'.

'The odds are against you', friends told her
'too much competition, 
'he's just having fun,
'you're just a new toy, soon to be discarded,
'too many difficulties to be overcome,
'it won't last,
'brace yourself for the truth, 
'for the odds are against you'.

'The odds are against us', they thought,
battling with too many things that could tear them apart
too many things that could go wrong
too many things that could
but didn't...

Then one day,
in their little bird nest,
their bodies and tongues and hearts and minds interlocked,
their smells and dreams fused in a sweetly orchestrated melody, 
they knew
without saying a word, they just knew.

'The odds are against us
but 
we are beating the odds'

Since day one
they've been beating the odds
to the astonishment 
and perhaps envy of many
they keep going 
they keep loving
against all the fucking odds.

Because you see
odds are just abstract, lifeless numbers
whereas love is soul expressed
love is pulsating, dripping, sweating, 
loving,
life-affirming,
life-creating
joy-giving.


Against all odds
Life and Love
always goes on....

Their never-ending love story
their happily ever after of the eternal Now...

Love Can Heal All Wounds

changing seasons

again

she met him in glorious autumn

her favorite season

autumn is about love, dude

about snuggling and cuddling

that's why

a year gone

four seasons gone

still in love

still in tenderness

still in amazing body bliss

slow kisses and cinnamon aromas

touching and intimating secrets

happy driving and old 14th century churches

fluffy dogs and everyday life caring

relaxing massages and meaningful nicknames

staring deep into dark or blue eyes

heavenly smells and salty tears of gratitude

deep,husky whispers in the ear

strong arms (the way she likes it)

and very, very soft skin ( the way he loves it)

6 hungry puppies playing in the mountain mist

in front of the most picturesque cafe ever

and expensive gift perfumes

blond hair pulled playfully

and hot spring water cuddles

online rambles

and hot sex dates

white, knitted grandma heirloom bedcovers

spread over pristine bed sheets

wine and whisky and cupcakes

cigarette smoke and hair extensions

dirty little text messages

and naughty games of love

sighs of ecstasy and giggles of merriment

words of adoration and prayers for strength

his and her teardrops combined in a rare shampagne of emotion

poems and stories and pictures and quotes

written and quoted, pregnant in meaning

his adoration, her admiration

his imparting strength to her,her loving beyond limits

Their private world....

Loving Deep

Once you fall asleep
-or pretend that you have,
to see what I'm up to-,
I cradle myself along your back
and take in the smell of your skin.
It never fails to give me a high.

Lying there,
 I swear to myself that I wont sleep, 
that I'll just smell your skin 
and absorb your aura for hours.
Because shared sleep is rare for us
and I dont wonna lose even a moment.

But my body fails me.
Still full with our connection,
my physical self blissfully relaxed
I fall asleep before you do. 

Then , in my slumber,
I feel your body coming closer,
you observing me,
cherishing me,
silently watching over me, 
over us,
but I'm already asleep 
and I cant snap out of it
and so the awareness of your tenderness
seeps deeply into my subconscious
or traces of it surface unto into my mind the next morning.

And I love you for it.
More.
For loving my soul deep.

Even deeper than our lovemaking

Rose Magic

A person who is in love has wings on their feet, 
she knows that
everyone knows that.

Love heals everything, empowers everything

She loves rituals .
Rituals that have meaning only for her.
Her personal brand of magic.
She wants to celebrate an anniversary of love
on a beautiful full moon week.

She chooses roses, her favorite flower.
Their love is a multisplendour thing,
so multi-colored roses it is.

She won't buy the rose, 
for love has nothing to do with buying-and-selling.
It must be found, searched for,encountered or freely given.
She walks all over the town, outskirts and all.
Many abandoned homes with gardens
full of rosebeds
surviving as if by miracle.
She has spotted them on her daily walks.
Then there are friends' and relatives' gardens 
she 'll stop by, asking for rose blessings.

She returns home with one red, red rose
seven multi-colored ones in full bloom
and a tender rose bud.
All hand-picked, found or begged for.
All so fragrant and beautiful, 
you'd think you're gonna faint
just by smelling them.

Each rose stands for an aspect of their love

-Crimson-Red Rose for the physical, sexual part of their love
-White Rose for the pure, unconditional, selfless love
-Pink Rose for the romantic, tender, youthful, cherished love
-Violet-purple Rose for spiritual communion of soul love
(a rare thing that emits the headiest fragrance of them all)
-Magenta Rose for passion, empowerment and freedom
-Orange Rose for joy, exuberance, festivity and lightheartedness
-Yellow Rose for deeper understanding, companionship, frendship
and a small rose bud so that love is always new and budding

She boils the petals of the red one
mixes them with honey and some brandy
makes herself a delicious rose tea
puts the rest of the roses in a crystal bowl
She drinks to their loving
his and hers

Blessed be the love that stands the test of time.....

Thunder rumbling

Last day of their first-ever vacation.
Torrential rain.
flashing lightning.
Tea-lights reflected in the mirrors.

Slowly, 
sensually,
lovingly
enjoying his body
and relishing every moment of it
all night long....

Falling asleep on his stomach
and waking up in his arms
as her menstrual flow gushes forth
reminding her of her goddess-like
goddess-giving
goddess -creating
nature...

Why I'm Writing These Stories

''Do you Know Why I'm Writing These Stories? ''
she tells him.

Not to tell the world.
(they don't understand anyway, 
they think it's too good to be true, 
or straight out of a romantic fantasy)

Not to tell you
( you are right here with me .
living it all,
no need to remind you...)

Not to tell me
( as if I could ever forget,
ever....)

I write our story for another reason:
To immortalise a Work of Art
in progress.

All beautiful things in life
are works of art.
And works of art
need to be imortalised.

They deserve it.
And the world needs them.
That ugly, drab, twisted world of today
needs as much Beauty and Love
as it can possibly get.

Too much shortage of it.

''My love,
our Love 
spills anonymous blessings
to this world...''

If only

''If only I posted the juicy details on one of my posts...''
the mouth watering, body melting little details...''

''Don't'', he says.
''Keep them just for us''

And I shall, baby.
Keep them just for us.
But if only....

Fuller than the one before

That moment
when you told me
that I have loved you 
more than any other woman ever
and that no woman  will love you that way
because you only strike the jackpot once in your lifetime
and that, if you re really lucky...

I can live off those words
for the rest of my life
except
I don' t need to,
cause each time we are together
you are feeding me 
new and fresh helpings of love...

Feeling full and sleepy 
in your arms
every single time
fuller than 
the one before

Love you

Finally, 
a  weekend 
just for us.


Glorious lovemaking afterglow.
Icecream crepes
for lunch
in the glorious sunshine at that outdoor cafes.

Eventually we get back
and we somehow gravitate towards bed,
meaning to just get warm and cozy under the bed covers,
enjoy the close proximity
of each other's body.

Somehow in between basking 
in each other's smell and touch
both drifting off
into the most comfortable, easy nap.
Long, unplanned
glorious nap.
Glorious.
Like the rest of the weekend

Almost dark when we wake up again.
And....
time for you to catch up that plane.

But the warmth of your arm
around my tummy
lingers on..

Love you.
And so do you.
Cause nothing else matters...

A Moment

Morning light streaming in.
Vacationing together.


She stretches herself on their bed.
Contentedly.
Well rested.
Well slept.
Well fucked.
Well orgasmed.
Well loved.

She closes her eyes 
and stretches some more.

He catches that expression of contentment
on her face
and desire surges in his chest
all over again
and he has to pull her close to him
all over again.
He has to be
closer to her.
In her.

He adores her contentment.
Especially when he is the reason behind it...

Happy Anniversary

''I am mad at you'', she moans,
as he enters her. ''I  don't wonna cum for you''.
''I dont give a shit'', he whispers in her ear in that sexy voice of his 
as he's working her up to her climax.
''I wont be cuming'', she is protesting,
feeling the familiar wave surging too dangerously inside her.
Too closely , too late.

''I dont give a shit'', he repeats,
breathing deeply into her ear,
half kissing , half nuzzling her,
steadily thrusting,
inexorably getting her there
driving her mad with pleasure.
He knows her body,
its rythm, its needs and wants.
His arrogant confidence angers her
but her body has taken control now
shutting up her mind.
Surging. Overflowing.
Subsiding in his arms

''More, I want more'', she whispers.
She is hungry. For him.
It's been the longest they've ever been apart.
Fuck distance.
''I want more. More''.
And he gives her more.
Always.
Watching her closely.
To gauge how much.
And how.
His tenderness translating in 
acts of passionate caring  for her body.


''You only want one thing from me'',
he tells her afterwards, an edge of bitterness in his voice. 
''It's just sex you want from me...''

He's referring to her angrily demanding of him
the weeks before:
''I need you here, regular doses of the physical you,
regularly. I cant make this 
unless you come to me often enough.
I need you in the physical often,not once in a while
just talking over the phone or skyping wont do''.

As they are lying there,
in the afterglow of love shared,
his words take her by surprise.
Most of the time she won't let him speak
because she talks too much
and he listens patiently.
Though it's his voice she's craving to hear.
But at that moment,
words fail her.

How can she tell him what's in her heart?
''That's not true..'' is the only thing she can come up with,
her eyes and heart full.
She thought he knew,
she thought she told him often enough
how much she loved him,
she thought he needed no reassurance.

''Write us a story'', he would tell her
each time she wasnt feeling herself
because of his absence.
''Write a story, cook a yummy meal of words of love
and feed us both with it.''
Those were his words.

Because all her stories are for him.
Fore his eyes only,
Even if hundreds read them
its just the two of them, reliving it
through her writings.

So now she knows what she's gonna do.
'' I' ll tell him in one of my stories''

I used to convince myself in the beginning that it would never work.

Slowly I felt myself becoming a healthier person, and although it was happening gradually, his words of soothing encouragement were always running though my head.


All the pain, betrayal, and abandonment that I have felt in thοse past years before he came  seem to mean nothing anymore. He loves me more than I could ever possibly love myself. Is that possible? I don’t know what it is, but this man has kept me happier than I’ve ever been despite of how far he is. Not just by how he loves me, but by the way he is as a person. I’ve met many people I could connect, but none of it can compare to the way my soul, my heart, and my mind connects to his.

 Nothing compares to him, absolutely nothing. I want a lifetime of craziness with this man. I want to fall asleep in his arms, I want to be half asleep and feel his arms around me. I want to lay there and feel his soft lips gently pecking my forehead because that’s when I know I am the safest.

This life altering kind of love.

When I'm hungrily listening to his thoughts and I become intoxicated, it's my body that hungrily asks for his touch.

When he is giving me passionate physical love, my mind and my heart craves his. 

How can I separate one from the other?


Why should I?


I want to be your one life stand, my love.

Every fucking day.

For the rest of our days.


Happy 1.627 days of Love Anniversary


Love you 

Moments

Moments...

Him, ordering a second cup of hot chocolate
with extra whipped cream on top for her
on their first official date....
her, hungrily diving for his dick
as soon as she first set eyes on it
in all its erect glory....

Him, standing up in front of the fireplace
feeding the log fire on that cabin
flames dancing happily....
her, kicking off her high heel shoes
and posing with him for the camera
barefoot and all airs and graces...

Both of them naked and languid 
and exhausted from too much lovemaking
in that private hot spring bath chamber.....

Him, telling her on the beach ' I've got a present for you'
then uncurling his fingers 
and showing her a little shell...
Her, telling him, half indignantly
''my energy is as strong as yours, 
even more so if I choose to!'
and both of them bursting into hysterical laughter....

Him, giving her an intense orgasm
by just caressing her hair....
Her, asking him silly questions
expecting a serious answer
as he was lying there snoring
pretending to be half asleep....

Her, making him pose naked for her camera
'but not your head, just your hot body , please'...
Him, stuffing her lace knickers in his jacket pocket
like some kind of purple trophy
after their first weekend together...

Both of their faces lighting up
like a firework-lit sky
on a national holiday night
as soon as they see each other after a few days of being apart...

His sexy smile, 
warming up every nook and corner of her heart
her eyes
welling up with tears
and him going 'I love them like this, they look star-ladden'....

Moments, 
yummy
delicious moments
adding up
filling up their cup of joy
reminding them
what life is all about......

All the sad things they predicted for us

I remember
every single thing
other people have said
to me
about our love story.
People full of good intentions, mostly.
Trying to put some sense into me


Their words
burning in my memory.
Sad thing, usually,
doom predicting things.

-''He 'll never come to you'' (you did)
-''You won't like the real him as much ( I liked the real you exactly as much )
-He's leading you on ( you are turning me on, constantly)
-''You'll be part of his 'harem' ( ''I'm part of his heart '', I tell them)
-''He's making fun of you ( you are making love to me, in every imaginable way)
-''It won't work because of the distance ( you are making it work, in spite of the distance)
''It's not real love, it's infatuation ( yes, it's not j u s t real love, it's spiritual love bliss)
-''There are too many problems and difficulties for you to be properly together (all of which magical dissipated, one by one)
-''It won't last'' (it's lasting, on and on and on)

And the recurring one:
''Just you wait , until you actually move in together...''
Implying the magic will fade eventually.
But actually, all the while, half fearing
that not only it will, but it'll grow stronger
and stronger and stronger.
Proving them all wrong.
Confusing them 
by defying their preconceptions.
Lite it does already.

It's alright
No real malice intended.
They meant no harm.
It is pure rational thinking talking.
All those people.
Meaning no harm.
Trying to protect.
Me, you.
Talking sense.
Talking through their brains.


Meanwhile, WE were loving
through our hearts....

Just our combined aura felt
lights up space, baby.
Baby of mine.

We go on lighting space.
We go on loving.

Just because...

The Power of Love

Realising
you are the first person 
I've been this close, soulwise.

Realising this is so
because you bring out the best in me
the most vulnerable,
open and sweet
version of my self.

Realising, through this,
how transformative love is.
How it makes me
the best version of myself
How it lifts me up
and because it is a source of strength
a source of solace,
helping me lift other people up as well.

How the power of love
is stronger
than anything else indeed..

A Prayer

 Lord,

help us always remember
when we first met
and the strong love and joy
that grew between us

Help us work that love
into practical solutions
so that it grows stronger every day
and nothing can keep us apart

We ask for hearts, words and deeds
full of tenderness and compassion
forgiveness and understanding,
we ask for the miracle to keep unfolding

Dear Lord,
we put our beautiful love story
into your hands..