Lucky.

He is the lucky one. He would feel thrilled everytime,he entered the premises. He knew that his need for love would be quenched. 

As he came and dominated him while shouting obscenties due to the sheer pleasure of their bodies being together,he would contemplate about how he had just read about this wondrous feeling.

But the resources were sparse. 

His lover-how adult of me,he chuckled-had told him that the bond that they shared was special but it was tacit that it had to be kept a secret.

How could what they shared not be sacred,he was his priest-altar boy's priest. 

I wish she knew-55 Fiction.

Her skin was luminous. Her body rippled and flowed as she danced for him.

Her hair had ringlets of golden admist a waterfall of chocolate. 

How i wish she knew me as a lover rather than just knowing my telescope from a draped window.

Neverthelss,she put up a show without fail everyday for me.

Writer's Block.

What happens when you are plagued by a writer's block?

Initially,I always tend to blame the work that I have on a day to day basis-the lack of clarity that is required to write.
But,it gradually dawned on me that it is quite a few factors and not just work that stops me from writing.

Inhibition is one too.

It is tough to bare your soul and at times,i try to garb it with my words.. 

It is difficult to know that people who actually know you -not your spouse,per se- can delve into your very thought process which you might not have shared with them,directly.

Is it a betrayal?

Do they feel that?

 

Or it is just an artistic license?

Will my twisted sense of being change the way they look at me?

But then i commence writing again,with the simple notion that i have always lived by,it does not really matter what they say,my life and rules for it is short.

Writing i cathartic,i do it for self.

No matter how corny it sounds.

So,here we go again:)