It’s that time of year again

Roses, sweet chocolates, and besotted kisses

Keep them

Give me passion, your heart

I want years, not moments

No flowers or sugary sweetness

I’ll take your flaws, laughter, and love

She is bound to you

Not with rope and satin ties

Though these do wet her thighs

What makes her soul dance

Is your heartstrings romance

It’s a melodic motif 

Of love and lust

It sings to her soul 

And binds her to you

She’s an engineer, through and through. Logical and strategical. Except when it comes to him, her opposite. Then reason bursts and vanishes like a fragile soap bubble. The result isn’t clean. Their life’s a beautiful, wonderous mess.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

He asked her dance. She hesitated. Confident she could waltz, but less sure of him. Her last lover was a tyrant. Would this one also try to possess her, making her heart shrivel and hide, or give it freedom to grow?

“Do you love me as much as the day we met,” the old woman asked her husband, as they watch another sunrise during their sunset years. He turned, running a knotted knuckle down her wrinkled cheek. “More. Everyday l love you a little more.”