Total Recall

Total Recall is on. It's fast approaching bedtime. It's a school night. I must sleep. Yet I repeat, Total Recall is on. Curses.

Petals on his jacket

I keep thinking back the first time I saw him. There were petals on his jacket, from where he'd gotten too close to the climbing flowers. His long(ish) hair cascaded over his striped shoulders. He felt entirely beautiful, in every way.  

We could have been anywhere that night. Everything else was background except us two. Our images were sharp, merged, colourful and almost illuminated. I felt as though we could have lit a thousand cities with the energy between us. 

I would groundhog day that first meeting in a heartbeat. In fact, in memory, I often do. 

Love, 

The RGF xxx

Second love

I discovered some months ago that 17th century sexting is flipping marvellous. I think I found it so appealing because I love language. The combination of sexual  and romantic wordplay became foreplay from afar. Indeed, that was rather the point of it. We both wanted to send endorphins zipping across the miles until we could enjoy them face to face. By Goddess, enjoy ourselves we did, both off and on the page.

As a sapoisexual who is a little obsessed with romantic language, when interacting via messages that are so vast and well articulated that they present as the handwritten love letter - wooing occurs. I don't think my wordy partner wanted me to fall in love with him, in fact I'm positive that he didn't but he did want to impress.  Unfortunately, the former was the unexpected side-effect of latter. 

Essentially, I didn't want to fall but like interactions with The Borg, resistance was futile. There are those who do not accept that love is possible in so short a time. They say, you only fell in love with the idea of him and to those people, I say this: people only ever fall in love with the idea of someone. It's how they seem to us that we love. Sometimes we hold back but if the feelings come, they come regardless. Love is not time sensitive. If you're ready and right person turns up, you fall.

Furthermore this man reminded me of my first love. Something that I've only recently fully realised. The first guy I fell properly in love with, was also fond of poetic language. I recall that he used compliment me in ways I'd never stumbled across before. Comparisons to the pre raphaelites and similar platitudes often fell from his perfectly formed lips. He bombarded me with flowery language.  Most of which was probably nonsense but it was beautiful nonsense nonetheless.  And my seventeen year old self was impressed by him, thus I fell in love without barrier or hesitation. I wasn't trying to hold back. I was inexperienced and idealistic. In certain respects, I haven't changed that much. 

I've been in love numerous times since I fell for my first, yet it wasn't until Summer of last year that I experienced the love I'd long been searching for. Though my Summer romance was brief by many standards, it was a transformative relationship for me. There have been many changes and much creativity since I met that man.  Moreover, I now refer my Summer romance as second love because it's the second time that I've felt it that way.

Here's to firsts!

Here's to seconds!

Yours,

The RGF

Xxx

Interlock

~~~

At times, in soul, we interlock

You're here in algorithm

Like that time I heard the clock

Heart's beat in synchronism

As I curve my body back

Our shapes, rhythms, magnetic

The second of the zodiac

Links the ninth in biometric

~~~

Endings

As The Stone Roses play I wanna be adored through the speakers of my phone, the three half-written poems have become one. Thus, the words are now complete.

In the end, finishing was fairly straightforward and swift. Isn't it a shame that other things cannot end so easily.

Xx

Wild notes

~~~

Twisted strings, blood red

We were opposite and one

Behind these lines, mirrored

We’re wild notes lost in song

Travel me back, in time, in place

We'll be there, star crossed still

My mind retains, cannot replace

Make what was lost eternal

~~~

Roaming

I have a million words roaming around my head. I can't articulate any one of them into words on a page. This isn't like me. Words are my thing. Perhaps the three, half-written poems sitting in drafts will be completed in time. I think perhaps these poems are a metaphor for my soul - though complete in itself, its' twin is missing thus in a sense my soul awaits full completion.

Xx