Good Morning

An illuminated streak, a warm surprise,she turns around and watches as he peels open sleepy eyes. 

“Good morning, my king”, she whispers, brushing her lips against his jaw,

and he simply gazes at her, lips parted in awe. 

“My beautiful queen”, he mutters and brushes platinum strands from her face.

She smiles softly, in love; in a daze. 

To her, he puts the stars in the night sky every night,

then conjures the sun at dawn, her world he makes bright. 
She kisses him softly, again and again,

and he clumsily rolls atop her. “Looks like we’ve overlain”,

he chuckles, and she pulls him closer

and whispers by his ear “No sir,

the more time I spend with you, the better”.

He laughs, peppering open mouthed kisses upon her neck before sliding inside her.
She moans, clinging to his hips

as he thrusts, panting against her lips.

Sweet words are muttered, getting lost in the air,

and she’s close, he can feel in the way she grabs a fistful of his hair.

She writhes and shakes, his name the only word she knows.

And she’s a writer. Words are usually all she knows,

But he tears them from her lips, pushing her over the edge,

Submissive to him, her pleasure the ledge.

She’s a fool for him, and he for her. 

Her back arches, pushing him further,

until he tenses up, releasing inside her. 
I love you’s are exchanged and they curl up together,

slipping back into slumber, to dream of their forever. 


An open letter to my father, the first person to break my heart

Dear father, the first person to break my heart,

First and foremost, I’d like to thank you. 
The pain that you inflicted upon me earlier in life led me to grow into a strong woman. 

The first time I fell in love, I was already fluent in heartbreak. The way sobs rolled from my tongue was an all too familiar memory, so I handled it exceptionally well when she used and abused me. You taught me to recognise when I was not wanted, so I walked away.
See, at such a meagre age, you didn’t give me that option. You had me gazing lovingly at my very own father figure, just to be tossed far away. 

You’re lucky that my mother was fluent in heartbreak too. She’d had it harder than you could ever imagine, and she still played the hell out of the role of both parental figures, meanwhile you played none. All respect I had for you, I bestowed upon her. She has been my warm embrace, my knight in shining armour, my most frivolous laughter. She’s twice the father you could ever be. I thank you for giving her that strength.  
Right now, I’m in love again. I know you’d be disappointed to hear that. You couldn’t have cared less for me, yet you still wanted to chase boys away – left, right, and centre. Now, if I’m honest, it took me a long time to learn to love and to trust again, and I know that you’re to blame for that, but I’m happy now. You taught me how to look out for the warning signs, and for once in my life, I’m so god damn happy, I could hug you, and maybe even send this to you as a thank you note in calligraphic ink, on decorated paper, in an elegantly designed envelope – but I won’t.
Thank you for breaking my heart before anybody else could. I now know what to look out for, and in whom I should place my trust. 
And finally, I feel safe. 
Have a good life. 
I hope you regret losing me every day.