Just right

She was Papa Bear’s porridge. Too damn hot to be any good, making her all kinds of right. Goldilocks, it would seem, clearly fucked up. ~ Mark Thompson

Fake plastic trees

She was not a fake plastic tree. She was a flower yet to bloom, raw in beauty churned from within. A nurtured bud born from a seed, tossed in the tumultuous torrents of harsh seasons past. She was not a fake plastic tree. ~ Mark Thompson

Popcorn

She was the blanket, the popcorn,and Battle of the Bastards. ~ Mark Thompson

Oxidation

She was the oxygen to his flame. ~ Mark Thompson

Smile

If she could see herself the way he does, that smile would never leave her face. ~ Mark Thompson

111 Fahrenheit

In sweltering heat your body sweats, taking charge I quench, and thirst some more. My hands they glide your body’s waves, slipping endless upon your dripping shore. ~ Mark Thompson

Song of you

How can I write the song of you, when words in rhyme cannot express, clearly divulge, nor deeply carress the sweetest of connections shared. For a pen is just an object used to scribe a language known from past. Yet the song of you is only known in a language new, yet to be shown….

Wet Paint

Never allow love’s paint to dry. Let it ooze down sweet upon your all, allow the rain to soak and mold it’s skin, in peaceful bliss brought from within. Allow it to pool in conditionless flow, like your blood and mine so entwined. Let it bleed the edges, enrich today, let it drip forevermore at…

Core

When I gaze into your eyes and hear your thoughts in carefree bliss, when I grab your ass and place a hand behind your neck to pull you near, taking in your breath holding each so dear. I can feel your pulse and that sense of care, my soul caressed in conscience aware, you opened…