Shadows on the wall

Looking at the wall
Seeking for the shadows
You once left behind.

The bricks are black
No template anymore
Where did the memories go?

The lightbulb is flickering
On and off
Faucet’s dripping too.

Rage is bubbling up in me
Grabbing my hair at the roots
– I scream.

Help me – get out of my head
The world spins
Never stops for me.

Bring back the shadows
And the flutters too
Paint my walls anew.

If I could fix the broken shards
I would do it on my own
But you were my glue that kept me sane.

rare bird (edited)

Here we are. You and me. I have dreamt about you before I even met you and now, I am lying in your arms. Discovering your skin. Learning everything about your body. Memorizing moles, cutie marks, scars. Tasting as much of you as I can. Keep you on my tongue. Your scent is like an aphrodisiac and I feel like I am slowly becoming addicted to you. You are like a drug without a description and without warnings, too.
Your breath mingles with mine, as we become one. Our eyes, yours green, mine brown, meet. Lustfully gazes. I am mesmerized by you and your presence. I feel like I have known you all my life and I ignore that we have just met for the first time. Pleasure takes over in my body. Your hands brush my hair out of my face. Sweat. I moan. You smile. And we find our rhythm. A rhythm so old, but new to us. Our bodies are slick with sweat, but we move slowly. Excruciating slow. Every move prolonging our pleasure. A kiss. So sweet and tender, yet so demanding. An intimate dance that will stay in my mind forever. Burned into my brain. It’s you I’ve been waiting for my whole life. My heart races as I see you crystal clear and I become yours. I fall. But you are there. Stars explode before my inner eye and I am left breathless. Heat. Incredible pulsating heat engulfs me. The sweetest sounds escape your mouth and I kiss you. At this moment, we have it all. The world belongs to us and the future is ours to explore. It’s waiting for us. My senses are heightened and I close my eyes. My hands touch the skin on your back. I kiss your forearms. My hands wander lower. I squeeze. You smile and bite my lip playfully. I can feel the way your muscles work to satisfy me. And you.
You leave a tattoo on my skin. A permanent mark that no one will ever erase or overwrite. I feel you tumbling over the edge too, but just like you caught me, I catch you too. You tremble. There is the smile again. It’s more of a chuckle this time. Sparkling eyes. Your pale milky skin has a red sheen. You look like the most handsome man I have ever seen and you are mine. Buried deep inside of me. At least for now. Your hands never cease to touch me. Leaving fingerprints on my skin that can never be washed off and I wouldn’t want it any other way. For this night, I am yours and you are mine. We don’t need words. I can’t speak your language right now anyway. Our bodies part. A regretful moan slips from my mouth. It makes me smile. I am not the insatiable type and yet, you woke up so many emotions in my sleeping heart.
When it all started, I never thought that we would meet. And yet, you are here. You know my deepest darkest secrets and still – you want me.
Our forever is over too soon. Life is catching up with us and reality too, as our love-bubble bursts. Passion and long lost feelings overwhelmed us. Made us act with our hearts and forget our brains. I have no regrets. I turn in your arms, my head on your chest. I hear your heartbeat. It’s in tune with mine. I am in heaven and you are my light. I always lived in the dark, loving the night. You guided me into the sun. I don’t want this moment to end, even if I might burn.
No one has ever put me under a spell like you and I know that I want more. One more caress. One more kiss. One more night with you. It’s not a dream.
I am one in a million, but you picked me to stay with you. I see you, even when you think no one is watching. It makes us different and we won’t walk away from what we have. It makes me different from the rest of them. We both feel it, I can tell.

with you, it is different (edited)

I wake up feeling warm and cozy and safe. I shift a little away from you, to get more comfortable and to watch you. Carefully I disentangle myself from you and hope that I won’t wake you up with my shuffling. I like to watch you when you sleep. I like to watch you when you are awake too, but I have never seen you like this before and I want to memorize these moments. I want to store the peaceful look on your face away for later use. For when we have our first fight or for when life doesn’t run smoothly for us. I want to remember the way the sun illuminates your skin right now. I want to soak in the moment, swallow it and make it mine to keep.
The birds are singing outside the window and the blinds that were closed in a hast the night before, are now letting in the first rays of the sun. It bathes you in a golden light giving you an ethereal aura. Your chest rises rhythmically and the air leaving your slightly parted lips caresses my bare skin over and over again. I never liked the feeling of someone breathing on me, but with you, it is different. Many things are different with you. My fingers itch to touch the tattoos on your skin, but I am afraid that it will wake you up. It’s not time yet. The one on your ribs is the one my fingers want to touch most. Last night, I kissed it and felt your bones move under the skin.
Your arm is stretched out over your head and half hidden by the pillow that supports your head while your hands are curled into loose fists. I look at your peaceful face again. You look serene and happy, a small smile is on your lips and I wonder what you are dreaming about. Are you dreaming about me? Whatever it is, it seems to be something good. My gaze travels from your hair and eyes further down, your stubble. It is slowly growing into a light ginger beard. I love it and I’d like to touch it, but I don’t want to wake you, not yet, you deserve your sleep. I never had a thing for beards or ginger men, but with you, it is different. Many things are different with you.
You start shifting and move from your side to your back. Your eyes are still closed and your breathing is still even, but not as soft anymore. For a moment you frown and I can see your eyes move hastily under the closed lids. I know you are fighting off the inevitable moment when you’ll wake up, and a groan rumbles through your body. The breathing has changed and your muscles aren’t as relaxed anymore. Any time now, you’ll open your light green eyes and look at me.
Your eyes are still closed, but you start stretching your limbs and turn to back to your back. The sheet moves down, revealing your strong legs. Both your arms are lifted above your head and it reminds me of something you did to me last night. I have to grin at the memory. A memory of complete loss of control, ecstasy, satisfaction, and exhaustion. You turn to your side again and you entwine your legs with mine. I never liked the feeling of hairy man legs against mine, but with you, it is different. Many things are different with you.
With your eyes still closed, you move even closer to me. Touching as much of my body with yours as you possibly can and finally you are awake and looking at me. The first moment, you look confused, but confusion changes to a bright smile that enlightens your entire face. You pull me closer into your arms so that our bodies are pressed firmly together. You gently smooth back my hair from my face and simultaneously, our lips meet for the first time today. There is no urge and no pressure to take this further. We simply lie in bed, touch each other and kiss lazily.
A perfect morning after a date. We live in our bubble, kissing our morning breaths away. Not talking too much. Only being caught up in that perfect moment, enjoying the close presence of each other. I want it to be the first of a long row of mornings like this. The thought scares me for a moment. I never thought about being with a man for the long run, but with you, it is different. Many things are different with you.

destination unknown (edited version)

I am nervous. It isn’t only the flight that makes my pulse race, but it is the knowledge that in a few hours, I will be able to look into his eyes, to hear his real voice, to feel his arms around myself and to smell his scent. All for the first time.
This is not my typical self. I was never the adventurous type, I prefer to live my life as straight-forward and predictable as possible.
But then I met him. A lot of things are different with him. We met on the web. It was never really my world and meeting a man and falling in love? That was for fools only. He made the first step, chatting me up and at first it was only meant to be fun and distracting for me. Banter and flirting, where’s the harm in that? Slowly though, his emails and the photos he sent me day after day, became the highlight of my mornings. And now I sit here. In a tin can that is about to fly me across the ocean and to him, and I only have a one-way ticket.


The plane starts to move and takes me out of my reveries. The flight will be long. There will be time to worry and to be happy and to be afraid too. For now, my hands are clammy as the trees become a blur and I get pushed into my seat. Takeoff. Silent tears stream down my face. I am not able to stop them and I am too panicked to make a sound. I look out of the window, grabbing the armrests until my knuckles become white, and I can only see the clear blue sky. I look past the row of other passengers and look out of the opposite window. I can only see green fields. My hands grip the armrest that separates me from the empty seat next to me tighter, and my fingers hurt, but I am ready letting go. It’s becoming my safety. And then plane seems to have reached its travel height. The tension slowly fades away and I breathe relieved. I am not really afraid to fly, I am panicked for the takeoff and with no one by my side, to soothe or distract me, that fear is almost overwhelming. Once the plane is up in the air, everything is okay, I have to sit by the window though. I need to see everything around me, the fake control calms me.


I am giving up my old life for him. I sold everything I couldn’t fit into a few bags, I gave up my job and my flat, only to fly into the unknown. A new continent, a different language, no job, no apartment and I have never even met the man in person. He is supposed to take me in and help me get my feet on the ground over there. What, if he doesn’t like me? What if we don’t get along? And what if he is a creep? Before I can rile myself up too badly, I feel my eyelids becoming heavy and I slowly drift off into a dreamless sleep. The Xanax is kicking in.
Next thing I know is that a flight attended wakes me up and asks me to fasten my seat belt. “We are going to land soon.” Did I actually sleep almost six hours? In a plane? Alone?
The plane lands effortlessly and I breathe again. It feels like the first since I woke up this morning. The landing is never as hard for me as the takeoff, because of the pure knowledge, that soon there will be solid ground under my feet again.
People scramble their belongings together and make their ways to the exit, where a flight attendant waits and says good-bye to every passenger. I like this. It’s nice. It’s normalcy.

As soon as I enter the terminal, my heart begins to pound in my chest. The inevitable moment is close. I don’t have to wait long at the baggage claim. My bags come early and I heave them onto my luggage cart. I hate to steer those things because they never go in the direction I want them to go, but with a bit of effort, I push it to the exit. Ropes separate the newly arrived from the ones being there to pick them up. My heart beats so fast, it threatens to burst my ribcage. It’s an unpleasant feeling. I see people falling into each other’s arms, crying happy tears and clinging onto each other. Families, mothers, fathers, daughters, sons… Different people who arrived at their destination. Not me. I am an alien.
The crowd slowly dissipates and I am still looking for the one person who was set to pick me up. I’m beginning to fear that he isn’t here, but then, through a group of laughing teenagers, I see a man holding up a poster. SHELLY, it reads. That’s my nickname. It is him. I feel hot and I smile. I don’t want to do it, but I can’t stop or hide it. It takes me a moment to get my legs moving. They are like lead and trembling as if I had never taken a step before.
At first sight and from the distance, he is even more gorgeous than he was in his pictures. I see him stretching and rising on his tiptoes. He is scanning the crowd with a frown. I can see the exact moment his eyes land on me and he recognized me. A bright smile erupts on his face and I know it was mirroring my own.
Step by tiny step, we get closer to each other until we both stop in our tracks. Only three steps separated us and I see his face becoming serious, the smile faded. How do I approach him? Are there any rules for this? I am unsure what to do, my instinct tells me to run away from this weird situation, but my body doesn’t want to obey. And I don’t know where to hide anyway. Dreadful moments pass and I wait. Frozen. Unable to act or react.
“Shelly,” he whispers almost inaudibly, because of the busy people hurrying to get to their planes and the ones hurrying to get home. I nod, not knowing what else to do.
The poster glides from his hands and slides to the floor while he takes another step towards me. Feet are walking over the white sheet of paper. The suspense and anticipation are killing me. My heart still races and if nothing happens now, the moment passes and we will never get it back. I can’t contain myself any longer and almost jump into his arms. He catches me with ease. He is shorter than I had imagined him to be, but he is still a few inches taller than me. My body fits his perfectly. I bury my nose in his neck and smile when I noticed his scent. It is an aphrodisiac for me. His arms come up and circled my waist almost lifting me off the floor and I laugh happily. The sound is bubbling out of me. His arms feel like home and I haven’t even heard him say more than a whisper.
My hands cup his cheeks and I scan his face. I look into his eyes – beautiful light green eyes. I take a step back, not to walk away, but to get a proper look at him. His cheeks are stubbly, just how I love it and his ginger hair is cut close to the head, but not too close. He is gorgeous. His lush lower lip begs to be kissed and again, it is me, who takes the first step and I kiss him hesitantly. He kisses me back and pulls me closer to him. All of this is shallow and I know it, it is appearances and superficialities, but I already know the person hiding inside.
Reluctantly, he lets go of me and now, he looks me up and down, making me slightly uncomfortable. Mere moments ago, I did the same to him and I feel a little ashamed that I did. What does he see when he looks at me?
“Let’s go home,” he says smiling and with a grunt, he gets my luggage cart to move and pushes it towards to parking lot.
Time and time again, we look at each other, only to shyly look away again. We load my bags into his truck and he comes around to open my door. His truck seems huge, but every car I see here is. I am not in Kansas – Europe – anymore.
Before I can climb into the huge vehicle, he holds me by the wrist and spins me around. I stumble into his arms, but again, he catches me with ease. He lowers his lips to mine and then, kisses me passionately. I’ve been kissed before – a lot, but I’ve never been kissed like this before. It takes my breath away and leaves a warm feeling inside. My heart skips a beat and it is as though an electrical shock rushes through my entire body. I am aware of how silly it sounds, even more so because I used to make fun of people saying this. But wow… If I had doubted my decision earlier, now I was sure to be at the right place with the right person.
“I am glad you are here. Finally.” His voice is gentle, but deep and a little hoarse. I like it very much and I wonder what it will sound like in the morning when he wakes up. It occurs to me that I will hear it soon enough and it makes me smile again.
“You must be starving. Would you like to go out on a dinner date with me?” he asks formally. It takes me a while to find the right words and my voice, but I accept his invitation. Of course I do. We seal the agreement to our first date with a long kiss. A car honks and we break apart. We drive off. Destination unknown.


On a warm summer night, he sat alone on the couch, cradling his guitar. The window let in a faint breeze but not enough to cool the sweat on his skin. Out of boredom, he strummed some chords and hummed a melody, but nothing worth writing down. Nothing worth saving for later use.
On a warm summer night she took a walk. Last summer, those walks had been shared with a man, but he was gone and she walked alone. Her shoelaces came undone and when she crouched down to tie them, she heard a male voice singing a song. She looked up to the opened window and beguilled the singer to show himself, but nothing happened.
He felt the urge to get up and look out of the window. Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought and stayed on his couch.
She listened to the voice and the words and felt as if he had reached into her soul and sang her inner most thoughts. She was touched and wanted to know who he was.
His phone vibrated next to him and he took the call. He closed the window and retreated to his bedroom. It wasn’t late and he was alone with his phone and yet, calls like this demanded some privacy.
The window closed and disappointed, she walked on, running into a man walking his dog. And while she was busy apologizing, he bribed her into a coffee date.
In the privacy of his bed, he heard her moans in his ear and dropped his hand under the sheet. Moans and encouraging words, urgent pulls and thrusts into his hand. Crowned by a delicious climax. This world was a great place to call home.
With a date and a phone number she walked home. Her frown was replaced with a smile. She undressed and slipped into the bed. Her hand found her wet sex underneath the sheet. It was easy to give into a fantasy and pretend the man she had just met was the one. Faster she rubbed herself and grabbed the sheet with her free hand. Her breathing hitched and pulsating heat flooded her body. A tired grin was on her face. This world was a great place to call home.


Once upon a time, in a land far far away, lived a lonely King by the name of Gideon. Gideon had known a lot of miseries and in its wake he had forgotten how to laugh and be silly, and his days were filled with grumbling and moaning about his so sad life. Day in and day out he sat on his golden throne, barking orders and sighing. His face had a constant frown and to his entourage, this was the only facial expression they knew. Then, one day, the young and lonely King took a stroll through the gardens of his castle. Looking down the walls he saw the bustle and jollity of the market and he decided to visit his underlings. The sad King Gideon marched through the gates and at that moment a young unknown Prince fell from his horse in front of the lonely King’s feet in a rather clumsy manner. The King felt a strange sensation in his gut when he saw the rather handsome man, and it traveled up to his face. A twitch at the corners of his mouth and then a grimace appeared on his face, one that tugged the edges of his mouth upward. The King’s entourage froze and they were scandalized. They had never seen him with such an expression on his face and at once, the King was ushered back into his castle and a doctor was called. The fair doctor made the King undress and examined him from head to toe. He listened and he tapped, he pushed and he pulled and after a long time of humming and scratching his bearded chin, the bespectacled older man rubbed his bald head and shook it. He was rather helpless and had no cure for the King’s strange condition.

The young Prince, who had traveled for many moons, felt guilty about being the reason the mighty lonely King was sick and so, he had stayed at the castle and awaited the verdict off the good doctor and the King’s entourage. All of them were helpless and saddened about King Gideon’s state of health. The thick stone walls reverberated with sad wails and the Prince took all his courage and asked to see the King. He introduced himself – Prince Idris from the Kingdom of Cameronia, told the purpose of his visit – an apology and to bring the King a gift from his homeland, far far away, and he asked for permission to spend the next three nights at the court, in order to regain his own strengths after a strenuous journey. The audience and the stay were granted by the King’s personal counselor and the Prince was allowed to see the King in his throne room. A crowd had gathered to see the foreign Prince and to hear his public apology.
In his nervous state, Prince Idris held his hat in his hand and played with its rim, he didn’t dare raising his gaze to look at the sad and sick King and knelt on the steps that led up to the throne. The floor was cool and hard. Even through the thick leather of his pants he felt the cold in his knees.

“Dearest King, I owe you an apology,” the young man croaked. The King nodded for the Prince to go on and speak, but because of his bowed head he didn’t see it. A guard nudged his calf with his boot and the Prince lost his balance and just before he fell down the steps on which he knelt, he yelped. A mysterious sound escaped the King’s mouth and everyone present stared at him in astonishment. His face was contorted in that strange grimace again. Out of the crowd an anonymous voice screeched: “It’s the Prince. He has our lonely King bewitched.” Murmuring voiced agreed and heads nodded. “Beheaded he shall be!” Declared a counselor of the mighty King. The Prince was startled and kneeling anew, he made his way closer to the King.
“Mercy, your Majesty. Please, have mercy.” He pleaded and looked up into the King’s face for the first time. What he saw surprised him and he turned around to see the crowd cheering for his head to be speared at the marketplace. The King looked down and a frown installed itself on his forehead. It was deep as if it had been there for many years. It made the young King look old and tired. Another murmur went through the crowd. The King raised his hand and the crowd was silenced. “He’s back to normal,” the Prince heard a loud whisper coming from behind his back.
“Prince Idris, speak! What is that witchery that makes me feel odd here,” the King pointed to his belly, “and here,” he pointed to his face, “and that only happens when you are around? Speak and lift the maleficent spell.” The King’s voice boomed through the halls and the Prince cowered in front of the man.
“It’s not a spell, your Majesty. It is happiness, maybe even love, and you are smiling.” Loud whispers echoed in the hall.
“Love? Smiling?” The King got up from his throne and marched down the steps. He halted in front of the kneeling Prince and motioned him to get up too. “And that fluttery feeling in my belly? Is it going to kill me?” The King feared for his life, but the Prince smiled. The King laid a hand on his flat stomach, the fluttery feeling was back upon seeing the glint in the brown eyes of the young Prince. Prince Idris blushed. “You are not sick, your Majesty. Feeling love is not going to kill you. It is how people feel when they are in love. It’s normal.” The Prince had always known that he wasn’t made to take a bride and so he had visited many Kingdoms in the hopes to find the one where he could find a King for his own lonely heart. His heart had fluttered when he had seen King Gideon for the first time. A gorgeous man with a divine smile. Strange that he didn’t have a clue about the worldliest feelings. The King frowned and whispered: “But you are a man, I cannot make you my Queen, can I?”

The young Prince felt brave and faced the King again, this time he made their eyes meet. His own stomach felt the somersaults inside of him.
“You are the King. You make the rules. And if finding love, happiness and companionship with a man, is what makes you less sad and lonely, then you should change the dusty old rules.” The Prince smiled and lowered his eyes again. In the crowd, he heard sharp intakes of breaths. The halls were silent.
“We could never produce heirs,” the King looked at a counselor who shook his head in agreement.
“But with all due respect, your Highness, there are many orphans who would be happy to find a loving family,” the Prince objected. The King faced the crowd, then he scrutinized the young Prince.
“Right.” The King turned around and took a seat on his throne. He put his finger against his lips and the frown reappeared, but then a smile chased it away and the King stood up. The smile on his face became more and more comfortable and it was no longer a foreign grimace. Even the people in the hall saw how handsome their young King was when he wasn’t frowning.

“I hereby decree that I will take Prince Idris as my Queen. The wedding shall be held in seven days,” the King cleared his throat: “I will take Prince Idris as my King, of course.”
While he went over to his new fiancé, the crowd was confused. The King raised his voice one last time: “Go my beloved friends and arrange your Kings’ marriage. You’ll be invited to a magnificent feast.” King Gideon let his knuckles caress Prince Idris’s cheek. “Do you want to be my King?” The Prince nodded shyly. “Will you show me how to laugh and to love?” The King asked furthermore, and again, the Prince nodded. “Will you start with a kiss? I have never kissed anyone, apart from my mother.” This time, the Prince didn’t nod. He leaned closer to the King, their chests touched and then the Prince laid his lips on the King’s. The fluttering feeling in the King’s stomach intensified. Normal, he thought. I have never been normal before. He smiled again.

Seven days passed with Prince Idris teaching King Gideon about life and love. The wedding was held and a feudal feast was arranged.

Prince Idris had found his King and the King was finally not sad and lonely anymore. And the Kings adopted seven orphaned children and lived happily ever after.


*Wonsaponatime is not my wordcreation, but John Lennon’s. I burrowed it for this little fairy tale.