Beaver and badger very short story

There was once a badger who was lonely in the forest, then one day badger was walking along the river bank and saw beaver. Beaver was building a dam and badger wanted to talk to the beaver. But badger couldn't swim and couldn't get to the beaver. Somehow the beaver noticed badger and rowing over on his dam boat asked badger to join him. 

"Come onto my boat and we'll travel down the river together and have many adventures" 

And so badger climbed onto the boat and together they sailed away and became the best of friends. The end, 

Bad feeling

I have been slightly off with myself the last few days, it's since I had the words of the key holder slither their sly way over and linking together formed the bars of a cage once more. Because I don't think about the past now, I don't think about my old friend or the path I was on, I am enjoying this new path too much. But then you wormed in, why? No offence but my silence these past months surely sent a message, I don't want you, not even your words. They're like rags of chloroform, suffocating me. Because when you've shut a door and forgotten about it, for it to be opened you're going to have dust rise up and hit you in the face. I can't be cruel, or rude, I never have been able to. But I deleted every speck of dust you left in my life, not just digital reminders but memories, photos, a box of childish letters and valentines...the only thing your words do is make me fear the loss of my Tree. A tree that's growing so well, wrapping its roots right around me, you remind me of pain, you make me fear the pain I'd feel a second time round. That's why I feel uncomfortable now. I can wish you well a thousand times you can wish it me, but I really I don't care. I never will. That part of my life may well be dead, and I've never been one for lingering around gravestones. Leave me alone. I shall never follow you, or look or wish because I feel nothing. Not anymore. My tree has taken all my life and soul and you can't keep a tree or a bird in a cage. Silence is a wonderful thing, you should learn that and if you ever had a degree of affection for me, you'll just be silent. 

The green door

I dreamt of the green door again last night. I woke up at 3.30 am and couldn't get back to sleep, I was too uncomfortable. I tossed over what must have been well over twenty times. I felt freaked out, and irritable and achy. 

The green door is a feature in my dreams that's haunted me for years. I began with the door itself, a green door with a polished brass doorknob. Sometimes the door is very plain and simple, at other times its intricately engraved or with a window. I have never been through this door, only looked at it, or ran passed it, sometimes I simply see it in the background of my dream. Sometimes it's not even the door, it's the brass doorknob on a windowsill, or the hinges on a table, always I know that they're from the green door. I know this door means something, I know it's waiting for me to enter it, and I swear the day I own my own home the door will mirror the image in my head. It's important, I just don't know why yet. 

No kiss. poem

I wrote this piece some months ago but have only just sorted through some computer files and decided to publish it on here. :-) quite a simple piece.

 

 I wanted you to kiss me,

Wanted it more than my own life

You should have kissed me,

I was on the edge, I was waiting for you

Why did you let me walk away?

Why didn’t you give me a sign to stay?

What were you doing leaning in for a hug

You must have known I was undone

I wanted your lips hot against mine

Wanted your arms around me tonight

So confused, I thought we felt right

So why didn’t you kiss me,

I waited for it tonight

I guess you don’t feel the same,

Humiliation blushes rise

Why didn’t you kiss me?

If you wanted me you should have kissed me tonight.

Your arms held me so tight

Why did you let go with a simple “goodnight”?

I don’t understand, why didn’t you want to kiss me tonight?

 

Red. poem

Red Riding hood lay spread on her bed
the ache unbearable, rather be dead
Wanting to weep, for being upset was better than this
lying in silence, staring at the roof instead
hours have passed she's thought of nothing else
it's not fair, the inability to pleasure ones self

Red Riding hood looks upon her cloak, a crimson rose
was it worth it? she wonders, to forever crave
God's punishment is precise,
virtuous girls know not of this life
forever wanting, is the penance for her sins
forever desperate is her fate each night.

Inadequate

What is this I'm feeling because I sure as hell don't know? Sometimes it's a feeling of falling, sometimes it's breathless and another times it's perfectly calm and acceptable. Then it's frightening, overpowering and suffocating and I want room to breathe, it's the most weird state of mind or heart I've ever felt. I'm confused by it more than anything. When I lay broken upon a cold kitchen floor, feeling like my world had walked out the door, it burnt my confidence to ash. I've always felt 'inadequate' and that moment confirmed it. Of course me and my friends and a few daffodils picked me up, brushed me off and I adopted the attitude of 'Screw it'...'Screw them all that can't accept this' Accepting yourself is the first step to freedom.

Thing is when you feel as worthless as that in a man's eyes it stays with you, like a tattoo branded in your skin. I started attending a fitness class, I diet now...small things but I hoped they would make me feel a little better about myself and they do. I guess what I'm trying to say is when you're best friend in the whole world walks away and says they don't want to spend their time with you anymore let alone their life it's going to crush parts of you that arn't replaced easily...when you vow to yourself that you'll never, ever let yourself so close to someone again because the pain is too cruel when they break away, just to meet someone who shines so brightly you can't see anything else. When you fall hard in a way you promised you wouldn't ever let happen, scrambling desperately to stop and not having the strength. down, down down, NO don't let this happen Siviter! It's too late, I loved you before I realised what was happening. When will I feel secure? That's what I ask myself a lot, because I've let myself go deeper than I ever did before, and the fear of that pain I remember too well lingers over my head like a sharp blade. I guess the other thing is that it's hard to accept something that seems too good to be real...Has God given me you? Am I lucky enough to have the real thing the 2nd time around? Really!? What makes me worthy of this? What's special about me that makes this make sense?

Past is past, what's been has been, what's gone has gone, I am fully accepting of this and wouldn't be any other way and although I'm a woman now as good as I'm ever gonna get, I still feel that twelve year old buried inside of me, I feel the memory of the hair hiding my face, I remember the crippling shyness, the uncomfortable, clumsy waif only one boy chose to look at twice. I left that girl behind as best as I could but the memory of not being good enough has always lingered. I wish it didn't. I'm not experienced in the world, or sex, or anything, I have no tricks up my sleeve, I have nothing on my side. I am me, and me alone. That's what I've been saying for a while now, but is that ever going to be good enough, good enough to last, to hold interest? I have a lot to be compared to, I know that, that's fine so long as no one expects me to shine brightly when I'm a leaf rather than a flower. I will always try my best at everything, I will always try to please. If I'd been born in another century I'd have been the kings servant not his lover, I'll try and be good at both, but with so much around to fade whatever light I have, is this ever possible?
What's going through my head right now? I don't even really know...other than that I feel inadequate.

find me in the next life. poem.

How long have I been waiting for you?
how much have I loved you all my life?
were you waiting for me? the way I waited each night
not knowing what I waited for, not knowing you were the light
how long have I been yours? how long have you been mine?
because I'm sure I've known you forever, through the ages of time.

when did we first meet? was it really just the other day?
I'm so certain I see in you a million lifetimes away
I have no memories, but this feeling inside
I've known you for many years and theres nowhere to hide
if I die tomorrow, I'll find you in the next life
as I have each time before, I sense it deep inside.
I am yours and you are mine
find me in the next life.

my knight inside my heart. poem

My heart it thuds so carefully now
 it remembers the pain all too well
and when the key holder comes around
my heart it cringes, a memory of a cell
there's something inside that stands up tall
a voice that says "I'll catch you if you fall"
my solider is deep within my soul
he carries a sword, a shield of gold
"he's not coming in, and you're not going back
don't worry little one I'm ready for attack
I'm the only knight that can climb these walls
you love me and I love you more."

My heart you see is surrounded now,
I have a commanding officer at the ready
he mended my heart, who knows how
but now he holds my beating steady
the keyholder comes with greetings kind
my soldier I clasp him tightly inside
I can't turn a beggar away at the door
but I have you my solider, to raise your sword
Once my heart was broken in two,
but something remained untouched, saved only for you
now my soul has latched onto yours
and if either shall fall, we both fall.

Don't leave me solider,
my heart can break a hundred times
but I can't live without my soul
you are part of my soul, you make the missing halve
don't let me go my solider, now that I know what's love and what's not

Balloon in a box

My birthday has come and gone, I am twenty. Waking up and getting morning 'love' under the sheets is one great way to start a day, but taking myself home briefly to retrieve my birthday delivery proved to be another breathtaking experience, opening a box light as air for a big balloon to rise up P.S. I Love You style, and floating in front of me was an envelope attached to the balloon holding a ticket to another bucket list dream...I'm going on an airballoon. :-) My space marine solider is taking me away to stay somewhere and I'm going up in a hot air balloon. :-)

Previously when I opened one of the gifts from Amy pigion, my best friend, I held a necklace with an airballoon charm and it made me think about how desperate I was for that, a little while later and that thought is a reality. It means a lot to me to do this, it's not a gift it's a dream.

Thoughts on the editing of my book

It was tipping down of rain most of the early morning, I woke up at about 5 and struggled to get back to sleep, the sound of rain always inspires me. In Irish my name means rainstorm, maybe that's related. I love everything about the rain, the coolness of it, the sound, the way it looks, the way it cleanses everything and makes trees greener and grass smell good and things grow. My book is growing, more than it ever has done before. My writing teacher at university once said "there is no such thing as writing, only re-writing" I didn't understand that, but I do now. I am re-writing my book, changing so much, the entire tone, events, everything. It's better and it works, I am excited about it. My book means more to me than anything else in the world, that sounds extreme but it's true. You see I've written many pieces  of writing and various novels, but this book, the book for Grace well it's my one major dream, It's the only thing I've created I see going anywhere, it's my future. It might fail, it might crash and burn, but I have to try. It means everything to me that I try. If I die before this book is finished, all my notes and my 'stick' are to be given to my nieces, Jay's girls when they reach an age that their own minds have developed fully. They are the ones in my family I see a similar sort of passion in, they remind me of myself  with their note booking and scribbling, they'd be the ones to finish it. 

Lol look at me, I'm 20 today and going on about death! Yes I know I'm not that old haha. But yes my point was, my book is flowing. 

Random morning thought

I have the most gorgeous boyfriend especially when he's asleep, the best featured proportioned face completely relaxed. Just putting that out there :-) 

My birthday (20)

I am going to be twenty tomorrow. I'm not exactly excited about the prospect of growing old, on the one hand I want to hurry up and finish this next year and get settled in life and a job I like, but on the other I don't want it to flash by and leave me realising that I forgot to do all the things I want to do. I want to ride in an air balloon, I want to visit Scotland, I want to skinny dip, and I want to publish my book. So many things listed, so many hopes and dreams. Sometimes I can feel them slipping to the back of my mind, I just can't let them stay there. I can't be like every other person who lives life for what it is, a scientific accident...to me we have a miracle that is conscious thought and feeling. We have soul. Turning twenty I guess is just the completion of a transition period. My life has changed drastically in the last 12 months. It makes perfect sense that I am now leaving behind teenage years and coming fully into adulthood, womanhood whatever. I have left the past behind, my future is bright and I am ready for it. I think.

Rain, my Novel

I have a very serious question about my book that I am asking myself. I'm not sure I'm the right person to answer. I would do a circle to get some clarity but it's tipping it down of rain. Rain-so symbolic. it was the Rain that started my entire novel. one day when I had scammed a day off school, and the window of my bedroom was grey, the house was empty and quiet and the rain was pouring down. It was just like it is right now, it was hammering. Outside the water that fell from the sky was like mist. I was only fifteen and my hair was still a long sheet, I still wore it humiliatingly as a curtain to hide my face, even alone in my room it fell over my shoulders and I remember thinking I wish it were a vibrant red, bold and courageous, I wish it were curly, an erratic display of wildness and beauty-everything I wasn't.

In those days I didn't just get a random idea and expand on it, I would sit with my notebook and think of a story to start writing. That's what I was doing then, I was holding my notebook, pen poised, watching the rain. I'd actually taken to sitting on the window sill, I'm looking at it now wondering how I actually managed that...hmmm it's difficult I just tried, I've filled out and grown taller in the last five years. I was thinking about myself, how I would make a character, how boring I must look on a page, just sat there, but boring was real I thought. So I wrote myself, the hair, the flat chest, the broken nose, and then I scratched that and decided fantasy was always better...

Grace was born that day and she was all I had, that and the rain. I knew it had to be raining because England was always raining, and I loved England and it's water. I loved the sky grey or blue, I loved the idea of flying. I loved the idea of having wings.

Now then my question...I have tossed and turned at night thinking about our world (the mortal world) and the one where the fun stuff happens...I've wondered how to get Grace there and came up with a way, but after that the whole idea of 'our' world seems completely and utterly irrelevant, it's not mentioned again, it's not needed, in fact it even ruins the story because it calls into question how each side works and corresponds together. Ohhh that's too complicated for me. So I'm thinking of axeing that off. I guess I wrote Grace to start in our world because that's where I am, and the idea of escaping was so welcome to me I wrote it down as if it could be true, but I've realised now I've never been here, not really. I have always had what psychiatrics call 'a happy place' and I live there through my character. So yes, I think I am going to axe the 'normal' world and place Grace into the fantasy land immediately. I'll work it out.

 

just gotta put it out there...

I have been American country music all my life, it makes up part of my soul, and you know never, EVER has anything ever changed this, I've never taken to others music even if I liked the odd song. I never took to his music, you know who I mean, I couldn't stand it. The fact that I'm spending my days listening to playlists of Black Stone Cherry and Three Doors Down just adds another ribbon to the very intricate knot that's binding me to another person. Everything fits, everything is marching along in perfect coordination. My wolf has introduced me to a new type of music I have fallen into just like I've fallen into this very deep hole. I really have got to tread carefully on this new territory, I don't mind getting lost in it, or staying here for a good long while, I just don't want to be pushed out.

Red Riding hood

 

Red Riding Hood woke up in the early morning

the dim rising sun was yet to chase shadows away

she tossed and turned became tangled in her sheets

a hot flush rushing through her limbs

an ache in her rose that wont fade away

an ache that God knows not of, Red can't pray

The wolf sleeps soundly in his den

The young girl must suffer alone instead

In the haze of sleep, and the lust of a dream

Red takes something, pushes where it can't be seen

strokes her aching bud, thinking of her wolf

waiting for that release, that ever illusive fire

pushing, rubbing higher and higher

but the fire burns out so quickly

leaving smoking coals, the flames are not the same

the feeling is so weak...

Red thrashes around in frustration, it's not enough, it's not enough

she wants her wolf, she needs his lust

to fuel her fire, and then burn it out, until her embers fade gently

in the arms of a lovers caress.

This pathetic feeling she brings herself, is like a trickle of rain

but a thunder storm is needed, to make this land wet

thunder to echo the cries of sex

Red she falls back into a sleep, only to dream of the raging within...

"Soon" the wolf growls "You'll get it when I say"

Red bowed down to commandment, and tried to pray

release me from torment, take this ache away

"It'll only make it better, when you finally get it"

Red wanted her wolf, but she hated him then

she lay in his bed always wanting more

why my lord? Why did you let me fall?

Glass of water on the side

It's the glass of water on the side,
it's the movies you put on for me
mugs of coco without complaint
arms around me everyday,
alone and tucked away,
or outside on display
kisses on my cheek, holding hands for all to see
that I'm with you and you're with me.
It's the patience when I don't understand
it's the kindness when I'm clumsy
sitting in the row I want
no judgement of my faith
nor ridicule of my taste
my passion is a talent, rather than unimportant
my ignorance an oppurtunity, instead of an irritant
the little things, don't say they're nothing,
they're everything to me,
the way I can be more me, when I'm alone with you
that makes me feel this way, that makes me happy with you.

The glass of water on the table never fails to amaze me, that something so simple, so sweet could mean so much to me. It reminds me I have a gentleman, and I'm lucky. .. It's just a glass of water to a stranger, it really means nothing at all...but to me it represents love.

Red riding hood another poem

Red Riding Hood once wore a dress of pure white
a little dove of virtue, that slept soundly at night
when the wolves howled outside
Red shut up her windows and doors so tight
a dress of clean pressed white now torn into shreds
lies at the foot of a stained sheet bed
the white now ripped up, marked with drops of red.
The wolf took inspiration from that red
left his naked new woman aleep on the bed
and fashioned a cloak of scarlet red
to cover her alabaster skin in the cold
for when the wolf wasn't there for her to hold.
Red awoke to the covering of crimson upon her skin
and the ache of her wolf's presence deep within
the cloak she wore with brazen love
a symbol of sin, of lust to the gods above
and the wolf he howled when he saw Red's cape
for she was his, and his alone to take.

goodbye girl, hello twenty

Feel that beat, the one under your feet
get ready my girl, you're about to sink
A short while ago loving life was a hard drink
a dance with a stranger, a grey smoke ring
a mistake was forgivable, not a big deal
now it's getting harder, getting more real
a few weeks ago, you were a babe and men were all dicks
and everyday was a possible lie in
deadlines were the only definite around
now responsibilities will start rooting in the ground
a year ago friends could come and go
good riddance, it'll all work out you know
not now my girl, hold onto them tight
time to learn to stand tall and fight
if you fall this time, it will be harder to rise
if you drop something, it will take longer to find
a year ago being thin was easy
and money was for luxury
Looking like a slut was just for a laugh
and a bad hair day was an excuse for a hat
being silly was expectable, being drunk more so
skirts were high, tops were low
shopping was breathing and music was loud
sleep was a maybe, and fun was always
now you have a man, to be a woman for
now you have dreams worth working for
a future is in reach, so take it one step at a time
you get one chance now, one chance to shine
one chance, one life to live
a hundred years will end in a blink
when you lose that teen at the end of your age
it's time to grow up, to turn the page
everything counts more than ever before
every task ahead, every day means more
tricks and skills to survive, you've learnt plenty
so it's goodbye girl, hello Twenty

Drunk and still drinking

I've had one hell of day
been studying so hard there are bruises on my brain
don't you look at me that way,
you have no idea, walking home in the rain.
 Been on shift for too many hours this week
I can feel the strain of no sleep pale on my cheek
I've been pushed and pulled every way
I've sure had one hell of a day

So tonight I'm letting go
there's dust on my dancing shoes
I need the freedom being young brings
dancing till my aching feet bleed
this is what it's like to be nineteen
Oh not long left now, then it's all over
in a few weeks I have to learn to be older
so for now I'm going to drink and dance
hit the town, the clubbing scene
I'm going to rock while I'm still nineteen.

I have a hard strong drink clasped in my hand
I'm tipping and spilling this white rum land
watch me walk, watch me dance
don't bother with me, there's no chance
I just want to feel this night, like its the last night of my life
No cares, no worries, no thinking
to be drunk and still drinking

My last week of my 2nd year

Well today was my deadline for my coursework, I can't say it's been a comfortable fun loving time this second year but it will be over this week. I'm surprised it's gone so fast. I'm a little worked up about my Language exam tomorrow, the amount of coursework I had to do, it's hardly fair for the exam to be the day after, I haven't had the time or the brain power to revise for it. I know it will be a fail, I just hope I can re-do it. I'm craving some free time, this summer won't be wasted. I have two book ideas to get cracking on to, I have my brothers camping gear and a new amazing best friend who I have have high hopes of spending my summers months with. This week hasn't started very well, it's my 'monthly' in the words of Game of Thrones my 'red flower is blooming' and I'm worn down by that. Then various occurances including my student stress has brought a bit of a blue cloud over me, I'm hoping after tomorrow morning when this exam is over I can relax and take a minute to breathe. Then I can do something constructive of my own choice.

I guess what I'm babbling on about here is that I'm a little at a loss for energy today. When this week is over I'll be bright and vibrant and back to normal. Just right now I needed to hammer out a bit on here. I have a 4 hour shift tonight, I need to kick myself into gear.

Wings poem

When I'm with you I can fly,
when I'm with you, I sit in the sky
I can write, I can see the way,
you've given me my light, the pen in my hand,
the ink to pour, the words to say
you've taken me into the promised land
I was broken, I was bruised, I had lost my light,
I tossed and turned, sleepless at night
nothing but empty pages and drifting feathers
I couldn't write, I tried and tried, but I couldn't write
now when I'm with you I can fly.

One thing in my life I crave, one thing that was taken away
I grew them once at twelve years old,
behind my bedroom door, through the summer, in the cold
I tended them gently, I spread them wide,
but puppet strings pulled me down, I didn't realise
forgotten, left behind, reality ripping them away
but they've been rebuilt, they're here to stay
I don't need trinkets or fancy things
Being with you, you've given me wings

How could I write and fly off with Grace
when my wings were torn down, like shreds of stained lace
how could I fight with Jim at my side,
when soliders came marching my heart would duck and hide
I dropped my sword a while ago, my feet slammed hard into the ground
but a piece of me was in that key you found
wrapped up in the inspiration you bring
how can I explain you've given me back my wings.

I can't be alone with you

don't know what you did,
don't understand this need,
but I know I can't be alone with you,
without needing you, needing you that way.
It might kill me one day, because I let myself fall
but it's worth it, just to experience it all
I can't keep my eyes off yours even when mine are closed
they see you everywhere I go
I can't keep my hands off you, can't stop thinking your name
damn it I just can't be alone with you
without wanting you that way,
It's killing me, I've let myself fall
but it's worse, so much worse when I'm alone with you
can't get you from my thoughts,
your like a drug I'm trying to resist
you're like a cigarette when you've had a few drinks
you've pushed me to the edge and I can't hold on
I can't be alone with you.
I want you everyday, I want you everyway,
Can't say it doesn't matter, because it matters to me
I want you to want me
Why is it you that I want? I can't imagine feeling this again
I crave your company everyday, I want you to want me the same
I don't want that with anyone else, I only crave the feeling I get from you
it's like a war, fighting a cause I can't win,
I need you that way, I need to sin
I can't be alone with you
without wanting you that way
giving away my virtue had a price to pay
I can't stop wanting you that way

Survey on the ideal man

I carried out a survey around Birmingham town centre, asking 100 women around the ages of 16-25 what they regarded to be the perfect male, showing photos of well known celebrities to trigger opinions. Here are some of the questions I asked and the amount of women who were for and against.
                                       For          Against
Hairy chest:                    30           70
Slight hairy:                    42            58
Short cut head hair:         46           54
Longer styled hair:          29           71
Medium length:               60            40
Tall (over 5.8):                 82           28
Noticeable muscles          25          75

on a scale of 1/10 with 10 being 'superman', how strong do you like your men to be?
the average answer was 6/10 (strong enough to be a man, but not scary strong)

The majority of my results showed women to prefer slighter, well toned but not very muscled men. They used words such as 'intimidating' 'scary' 'too much' 'gross' 'disgusting' in reference to hairy men and strong men. The women I questioned looked for a man who they could 'dominate a little' and 'who pulled off skinny jeans.' The majority didn't like hairy men, and had very specific requirements in regards to what was exceptable and not, for example 'the snail trail' line of hair from belly button down, was exceptable, anything waist and below, and 10 women said slight hair was fine, but most prefered their men shaved.

62/100 women preferred Mark from this is essex to Gerard Butler

70/100 women preferred James Mcavoy to Bradley Cooper

 

If this is a dream poem

If I were to wake up now, had all this been just a dream
Would I cry and breakdown, would I beg and shake and scream?
Have I lost myself in this so far along the road
That If I woke up now I'd miss this feeling I now hold?
Would I try and find my way back? would I fail and crumble?
Would I walk down the road, to see if you were really there?
If I were to wake up now, how much would I care?
If I woke up from this dream, would you wake up somewhere?
Or would you wait there for me to come back to you?

If I were to wake up now, had this all been just a dream
I wonder how far back in time I'd go, how long have I been asleep?
I wouldn't go back to my old life, I wouldn't forget all that's new
I would look at him and wish he were you.
I would have lost this glow I have, but the memory would remain
If I woke up now, nothing would ever be the same.
I'd gather up my friends, and tell them how loved they are
Before I went to sleep, they didn't hear it enough.
I'd throw away that cage and the keys with it too,
Learn to stand on my own two feet
But could I learn to be without you?
In my dreams I had a solider, a tree, a daffodil
I had a wolf to make me hot at night
I had friends I'd die for, and I was made up of a burning light
Don't let me wake, if this is just a dream
I'd rather sleep forever in his arms, than wake into reality.

Hurricane Poem

Some people are made of sunlight, others the blue tinted rain
Some lovers are touched by fire, but we're more like a hurricane
A vibrant spiral of feelings, crashing around
Hot love in bed like a thunder storm, cracks of lightening hit the ground
The rain is pouring down, cool on steamy skin,
The clouds are rocking back and forth, like a part of you buried within
Me, my body takes you in, it holds you in an embrace
Like the sky holds a rainbow, at the end of a stormy day
A hurricane is raging, strong enough to shake heaven and hell
We lie in blissful torment, hard naked skin upon the damp ground
And arching hot slick bodies, we let the rain come down.

I had no idea...

Until a few months ago I was young and naive...I'm still young in relative terms, turning 20 this month, oh the horror, but in the last few months I've learnt a lot. I've discovered that a broken heart can be mended and given away to a new person, I've realised that losing my best friend meant I had more time and affection for a whole group of best friends, special people that stayed strong at my side. I never knew before what it was to be looked at with admiration so often that it made me feel nervous and pretty at the same time. That a job in customer service would bring forth a bubbly confidence I didn't know I had. And the main one that I'm thinking of right now, is how utterly fantastic and addictive sex is! To be encased in a mans strong arms and feel cherished is a wonderful feeling, but to have a man inside you making you hot all over and desperate for him and and only him to bring you to that awe inspiring feeling of contentment that he's built up in you...oh my sweet lord I have become a wanton sinner. I never knew how much I'd like the feeling, the stretch and pull of my skin over his, the frantic movements...I'm obsessed and it's made all the more powerful a feeling I suppose because as much as I tried to hold back and stop myself from falling I have well and truly been thrown down the deep hole that is falling in love. I have said it aloud and admitted to myself that stupid and fast and reckless as i have let myself be, I am undeniably in love for the second time of my life, if the last time was love at all...no that's a bit harsh, it was a kind of love, it was a deep long term affection for someone who had grown up with me through the teenage years and was in truth the best of friends, but it wasn't like this. This that I'm feeling now is so forceful it knocks me back, there's a strong feeling inside me that I can't shake off, I like him more than I've liked anyone, we've talked more than I have ever managed to do with anyone else, I feel happy all the time when I think of this situation I'm in, and I want him with a fifty shades of grey passion I really can't curb. This is a faster, passionate kind of love, this isn't the type of soft friendship that develops into feelings, this is a hard, crazy, fast and incredible hurricane. I can't believe I let someone root themselves in my life so deeply and so quickly but I am almost 20, I'm a woman and for the first time I really know what I want. His name is Jones. They should bottle him and sell him as a drug, I'm completely addicted.

Angel breathless

On the cold concrete slab the angel soiled her knees, beneath the ripened moon in the fresh and cooling air of night. Hands pressed gently together, head bowed in respect, "Forgive me father for I have fallen" the words so often uttered now that they had become the initiation of a once rightous ritual. "I have fallen from grace my lord, I have fallen far from the clouds of heaven and what is worse I did not stop at the gates of Hell, I have fallen so far, spiraling into the deep hole that surpasses heaven, earth, hell and all in between. To lust is to sin, but to love is to admit utter defeat. The angel smiled softly "Forgive me father, for I do not repent" Driven my lust, held by love, a fatal combination, "How am I to fight? I cannot, I will not. I want him more than I am willing to admit"

The angel raised her head, harlot scarlet shimmering in the little light allowed to shine upon her, but light was not needed when such a flame burned from within. Once more the angel closed her eyes in memory and waited until the rush of the hurricane came thundering back....

The same room, the vulnerability of nakedness, bare breasts on display forbidden to cover herself the angel turned her head away in hot embaresment, not for long, such uncertainties had no room in a head full of mist, the mist that came with need. The wolf's claw dug gently into her skin etching paths on delicate skin that faded instantly leaving nothing but rivers of heat that expanded up her throat, down her arms into her palms making them clamy with anticipation. The familiar ache burst between her legs, her intimate daffodil so private but now so exposed suddenly slick and hot, so hot, the ache grew, it itched for a touch, a stroke. The emptiness she'd felt from the last time had spurned the angel on, she needed to be filled, to be entered. Finally legs bending, mouth sighing the key was pushed into the lock and the angel moaned. Hard, thick, ready, pulsing, pushing, more, more, more...

Grasping some feeling inside, touching something unreachable by anything else, touching it again. Sliding back and forth so cruelly far away then tantalisingly close, back and back again, deeper, filling the space so little used, so tight, so hard, harder still. The heat was almost burning, the heat that seemed to radiate from her body, from her pussy, hot, wet, desperate. Angel thought of nothing else, time faded into a far off memory, limitations and restrictions disembled in her mind, her voice was not her own, that once made cultivated prayers, but now foul tongued, rich in desire, hungry with passion, animalistic like a wolf herself, more, more, more. Harder!

The angel came so suddenly it took her off guard, it rocked her hips and shuddered her heart once so fragile now beating so hard, so fast for her wolf. Blood perhaps rushed to her head for her vision blurred ever so briefly and she could have passed out with the pleasure had it ended, but no the tension was greater, the relief had been but a moments passing, now another craving built it's way up almost immediately. The angel lost herself when it happened again, and sent a silent sorry to the above, for this demon was worth the loss of heaven.

Rising up from her ridgid posture on the stone floor, the angel winced a little from the pain, an ache, a stinging reminder of how crazed for passion she'd been. Despite the slight discomfort the angel wanted more still. Never enough, she thought shaking her head. It was never enough, it never would be. Always wanting more. The ache was a simple reminder that her tight closed flower so long had been waiting had finally been opened to sunlight and the wolf with his size and his strength was widening a doorway to heaven, left locked too long. Sighing again the angel cursed her dampness, if not to be taken again, at least to feel the strength and furr of her wolf would be enough to ease such discomfort. Angel you have been tested, something said within her, you have been trialed by God and failed but he will forgive you your one sin, it is the most delicious hobby to listen to your thoughts, now you must be trialed by the other side, you must learn a little restraint, you need to curb this and seperate this heat thats clouding your mind from everything else. There's a time and a place for such thoughts, learn where that is and lock the door behind you when you leave it. For now try and sleep angel, try and think of other things. The angel lay down her head, knowing she would dream of the wolf regardless, the wolf, the green door and the promise of next time.

Can't take me, I'm free

I heard a song today that inspired me, Bryan Adams: "You can't take me"
"Don't judge a thing until you know what's inside it,

  Don't push me I'll fight it. Never gonna give in, never gonna give it up, no.
You can't take me, I'm free!"
"I wanna know what's going on
And what's this holding me?
I'm not where I'm supposed to be
I gotta fight another fight
I gotta fight with all my might
I'm getting out, so check it out
you're in my way
Yeah, you better watch out
You can't take me, I'm free"

I have a lot of preparation and thinking to do for my future. At my age I suppose it's natural to start thinking about the choices you will make that will shape your life. I need to spend the next year getting ready for the job I hope to get, I need to start establishing where I am going to set myself when I finish Uni. I have always hated cages, the cage of grey and dull blocks that is the city, I dream about the country, the sea, the green, the smell and the sound. I crave to be where I belong which isn't here. If I hold myself here I'll resent it one day, it will effect those closest to me, just the way my dad resents living here. But I will not follow that path, I will be happy and I will do as I please, I won't just dream about it. I have a lot of planning to do, that's for certain.

Dear Heart another poem

Dear Heart,
     How are you? Everything okay?
Right of course it is, silly thing to say
I know you're doing well, I feel you beating strong despite being away from me,
I see you've patched up all bleeding holes, yes I can see.
The new lodger? Yes he's fine, I'm taking care of him
I feel his energy everyday humming from within
I don't know how long he wants this lease to be, this new tenant of mine
Of course the room is his as long as he wants it, he can rent for all time.
I'm coming around to your way of thinking heart, living for today
But still you're weakness worries me, for your continuous health I pray.
I'll leave you then dear one, as always take care of yourself
Forever here when you need me, always your friend for life.