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Seductive pink lips

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Two hearts
A tear drop in the eye
I'd Love to Hear Your Comments. Thanks, Alun


There is a hole that exists. A hole that is deeper than the deepest well, deeper than the deepest mine, deeper than the greatest chasm. And it is darker, more empty, more hollow.


Emptiness and hollowness can be relative terms. A hole which has always been a hole is no more empty today than it has ever been.


But where once there was solidity and warmth and fullness, if now there is vacuum and coldness and emptiness, then this is when the hole feels deepest, and the emptiness and the hollowness are most acute.


Today the hole is in my heart. And it is the deepest, most empty, hollowest hole in all the world.

And it can never be filled again.


Each time she strolled past him she would smile, and then continue on her way, forgetting the moment. Oblivious.


And each time he smiled back at her, and consumed in his own fantasies, he watched her go.


Some times she'd briefly chat with her acquaintance, before continuing with her day, forgetting the moment. Oblivious.


And each time he would cherish those moments, and how he wished he had the courage just once to tell her the things he wanted to tell her.


Then one day she left and never returned. Oblivious to what she had left behind.


And he would always wonder. What ever became of her? And what might have been, if only .....


Her love was clear and focused. She came from a poor background in a poor country. He came from a rich background in a rich country.

Her love was deep and true and and it was certain. And she had so much love to give.

First for his passport, second for his wallet, third for him.


She doted on him. In her eyes he was the most special man in all the world. He was the man who could do no wrong. He was the man who had the brightest future, the nicest smile. He was all she lived for, all she thought of. She would have done anything for him. And did.


Oh, others would come into his life and he would attract love again, but any new love would be of a very very different kind. And maybe any new love he felt would become deeper than his love for her.

But the love which any other person felt for him would never be as deep as that he experienced from her.

And he knew it, but he knew it too late to say thank you. Saying thank you when she is no longer there is too late.

Thank you mum.


The emotion, the tugging at the heart, the bond stayed firm, the man and the woman together in the field. Nothing could take away the strength and the depth of the feeling.

The bond between them would never be broken. She knew that. There among the grass under the shade of the old oak tree, she knew her love would live forever.

The tears poured as she laid the flowers on his grave.


How strange the touch of love ...

The touch of the skin of a billion people would stir no emotion, no feeling, no sensations of desire, no passion. And yet ...

The touch of the skin of the one I love feels softer and gentler than the finest silk, and more comforting too.

And lips. To touch our lips together - how such a simple touch can pump the adrenalin and make the heart beat fast. That's something no science can explain.

How strange the touch of love.

These nine short pieces are my reflections on the subject of love.

Some of these will be very personal truths for me, some have a basis in truth, and some possibly have very little truth in my life, but I can relate to all of the sentiments. I hope all may strike a personal chord with someone.

It has been a pleasure to write them.


How sweet the innocence of youth and the immense passion of first love.

The belief that love is all that matters. The belief in fairy-tale romance. The belief that love conquers all ...

A belief that all too often fades with age, and is extinguished as harsh realities set in and the routine grind of life prevails, and the romance is then forgotten, and loving together becomes just living together and existing together.

But I still believe...

40 years on.


An all-consuming emotion. An emotion which can block the mind to rationality, an emotion which can blind the eye to ugliness, an emotion which can deafen the ear to falsehood. It lightens the heart more than the lightest good humour, it spawns tears more intense than the sharpest pain, and when betrayed, it can create bitterness deeper than the fiercest hate.


That is love.


Is there anything which is worse than a relationship which still remains, when all the love in that relationship has been lost?

Yes there is;

There is a relationship which has been lost, when all the love in that relationship still remains.

Two lovers sitting on a palm tree branch
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