I love recalling the past of you when we first met, when the Universe nudged me into you, I remember your first smile, shy but sly, your first
laugh, full and inviting. your body as it danced, swaying and in sync with my own.
I remember your eyes looking at me with a lust of a thousand lovers,
then later with love like a thousand poems
I don’t want to forget
the first time of knowing you
and everything that pulled
me into those eyes, running.
I want all the songs that are ours
to wrap up around us
every time you walk into the room
I don’t want to forget you the first time.
Because those first times always bring me home to you and I love you all over again just like the first time.
by Philip Wardlow May 19th, 2021
You are tortuously pretty,
but that’s never been enough.
I shall entertain you for the night
and you shall pay, oh you
shall pay and you shall love
I will stroke your ego
as you hold it tight
and stroke mine.
But please don’t get attached to “it”
For I don’t have time for such frivolities
I will listen, I will see you, I will care
for that is who I am,
But you in the end,
a snack, a mere morsel.
That could never satiate.
I will smile, I will laugh as appropriate,
and convey every nuance to let you
know where my interests lay, but really,
its all just a lie.
You are wanting
wanting of something I could never give
My heart, dear
Though it beats.
It beats free.
Free of a pain
I never want to venture
to ever endure
or see again.
I have thrown that possibility
far far away from me.
by Philip Wardlow 2018
***Character treatment for erotic novel I am writing this year
“To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you, and you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a Fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, than we shall need each other. To me you shall be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world.
by Antione De-Saint Exupery – from The Little Prince
A spider lives inside my head
Who weaves a strange and wondrous web
Of silken thread and silver strings
To catch all sorts of flying things,
Like crumbs of thoughts and bits of smiles
And specks of dried-up tears,
And dust of dreams that catch and cling
For years, and years, and years…