An Observation; Ben

His hands are steady as he puts pen to paper; images flowing from his mind and into being. His face is the picture of concentration as he draws, his mouth set in a determined line. His usually expressive eyebrows still and clam as he works. He sings along absently to the blissful music spinning on the record player in the background. His fluffy hair hands in his face just touching the line of his brow and his eyelashes touch his cheeks each time he blinks. He is content.



Today is the day
of chocolate delights
and hold me tights
of forget me knots
and cooking pots

Today is the day
of lazing around
and going down
of worn out sheets
and really cold feet

Today is the day
of being alone
and hearing you moan
of drinking wine
and having a good time

Today is the day
that I tell you
and you say it too
those three little words
I love you

my father

I miss what he was meant to be. I wonder what he was like. What type of music did he like to listen to? What did his toes look like? How did he eat spaghetti? What were his opinions on gay and trans people? What did his handwriting look like?

I can’t remember what it felt like to be in his arms, to be the reason that he smiled. I always find myself wondering what my life would have been like if he was here to participate in it. Would I have turned out differently to the person I am today? Would his influence have made me a better person? What kind of advice would he give me when I’m having a hard time?

I feel his absence like a hole in my chest. But that hole has always been there and I don’t know any differently. How do you miss someone that you never knew?

The word Dad or Daddy is foreign on my tongue. I look at my friends and their fathers and just find it so odd that they have this close loving relationship where I just have a gaping hole.

He died when I was three years old. It’s been seventeen years and I still have questions. Questions that will haunt me forever because they will never be answered.


I have found the Illusive and mysterious unicorn. I have found it in the form of a man.

I have found the illusive and mysterious unicorn. I have found it in the form of a man.

I have found it in the way he smiles when silence turns awkward and when his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. He is a rare breed of polite man, whom doesn’t act like the ever so common fuck boy. He holds open doors, he drives you home after a date and he doesn’t expect anything in return. He is a nerd. He’s nearly got a science degree and he loves Lord of the Rings enough to actually get through reading all the books without wanting to die more than twice. He is genuinely kind. He loves dogs and thinks you’re weird because you don’t. He coo’s over dogs he meets in the street. He’s the nice guy that girls say that they’re looking for while they gallivant about with the aforementioned fuck boys. His body language screams strong and capable but a little bit self conscious. He wears shirts that fit him perfectly, outlining his arms and chest. Damn, I could stare at him all day and not get bored. I find myself wanting to lean into his warmth and feel his skin against mine.

I have found the illusive and mysterious unicorn. I have found it in the form of a man.

the woman I want to be

She had an elegance about her. The way she moved with a flow and grace, every single step and twitch a precise art crafted in her mind. The swish of her long brown hair and the way her hips swayed slightly when she walked, her footsteps a whisper on the pavement.

She cultivated her image. She wanted to be something , and so she was. She wanted to do something and she did. Her confidence came with ease, and her smile even more so. Her laughter was boisterous and infectious; the pure joy she emanated made everyone in her vicinity immediately happy. She was the incarnation of perfection, and yet she had her flaws too.

She never wore matching socks, hated getting out of bed on cold winter mornings and often took to a tub of nutella with a spoon. She was blunt and unapologetic, sometimes coming of as mean and she hated animals. She had the tendency to talk over people and she snorted loudly when she tried to scoff in derision.

And yet he still loved her anyway.

musings of a woman in crush mode

She hadn’t much experience kissing. The only proper kiss she had ever had was from a man who thought that shoving his tongue down her throat and slobbering all over her face was the right approach.

He had been so close to her, she had felt his body heat radiating out towards her. She couldn’t take her eyes of his lips. Then he leaned forward and pressed them against her own with his scratchy stubble tickling her. She hadn’t much experience kissing. The only proper kiss she had ever had was from a man who thought that shoving his tongue down her throat and slobbering all over her face was the right approach. That was nothing compared to his strong and sure lips, parted slightly against hers.

God, she wished he would kiss her again. She’d hardly been able to think of anything else since last Sunday. On the way home she couldn’t stop her smile from overwhelming her. It was certainly a memory she would hold on to.

She thought of ways she would have responded differently. She would have been more relaxed, more enthusiastic and she would have leaned in and kissed him again, if only to prolong the experience. She wondered what it would be like to sleep with him. From the way he talked, she knew he would be demanding and rough, and it made her core tingle just at the thought. But she also thought he would be extremely good at slow and teasing. She would certainly end up begging for more.

If only he actually messaged her back. She didn’t know if he was interested, or if he thought that she wasn’t interested. Maybe he was just busy and she was being paranoid and over anxious about the entire situation. She generally got that way about such things. The waiting around was killing her and she was eager for more of him, even if it was just a hug, she knew that she would make sure he knew that she wanted him. She wanted his intimacy. Her lack of it made her unused to human contact and now that she’d had just a little bit, she craved more.

She’d never been much of a hugging person. The only person that she had ever felt comfortable hugging after the age of thirteen was her best friend Amy. It was probably because Amy never judged her. The other girl made her feel loved and comfortable in her own skin. He made her feel like that too.

If only he knew the affect he had on her. Maybe to him, a kiss was just a kiss; something that had lost its meaning with time and repetition. But to her, it was the world. She didn’t usually feel comfortable enough to let any person kiss her but he made her feel things. What things, she was still figuring out but one day she would know, and hopefully he would too.