Coffee?

She was the extra-hot expresso. Her taste kick-starting his day – her petite, aromatic dance tantalising his taste buds, picking him up with a playful bite to his lip. She was the heat he knew, the heat he loved and cherished. Each and every morning, each and every day. ~ Mark Thompson

Heart of gold

Her heart’s not of gold as a good heart should be. It was molded from birth through ash-filled past days, mistakes and dismay. Through times so unjust, fear-fuelled through mistrust, dripping muddy-teared faces and tempting memory erases. The lessons now known gave her heart the way, in compassionate trust to see through the storm, to…

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…

Graffiti-covered

She was the graffiti-covered wall. Her atoms were bricks, forged in a furnace of moments, her mortar holding them tight. She was drenched in the paint of those who touched her. Layered in angst; coloured with love; splashed in memories; peeling with scars. She weathered the storms and accepted her cracks, and loved every inch…

Pathways

Billions of neurons firing, and the strongest of pathways are for you. ~ Mark Thompson

Passion

Passion drives everything that we do. From our work, our play, our love. Feel it in your core, and go out and explore; your true self. You are exactly who the world needs.

Lips

She wore the lips he would make love to forevermore. ~ Mark Thompson

Play

Her body was the fretboard to his fingers. ~ Mark Thompson

Melting moments

She was the well-carved sculptured ice, crafted in Icelandic form, a million years before her dawn, so beautiful in every way. She glistened in that crystal shine, crying in the midday sun, dripping stories still untold, on that warming Summer’s day.

I am

Puzzles are for piecing Minds are for quieting Creative flows grow In the consciousness of being. I am. ~ Mark Thompson