For Lang,
You are the wish that came true.
Smoke & Mirrors
Introduction
Words are strange creatures.
They have a delightful habit of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. Where they come from is still a mystery to me. Maybe the heart, perhaps our imagination, quite possibly another dimension we are yet to discover.
I do know, however, where my words eventually end up.
Smoke & Mirrors is my third book and another precarious journey into that fragile world where love and loss share the same unmade bed.
All revealed within a collection of poetry, prose, and short stories.
Sometimes bittersweet.
Other times, walking that delicate fine line between dirty and delightfully pretty.
So welcome to Smoke & Mirrors.
Where the unexpected is to be expected.
I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I did writing it for you.
All my love,
—Michael xo
Believe
“I believe in you.” Words that water flowers.
Anticipation
Anticipation
is the breath we take,
a silent pause
with lips awake,
a lingering kiss
two lovers make,
to be with you
I cannot wait,
each passing day
I contemplate—
Anticipation
is the breath we take.
Destined to Be Yours
It is in the quietest of moments,
the silent pause found
in twilight hue,
when the sun
slips behind the horizon,
lost to a single
purple pen stroke—
I find myself
thinking of you.
How your eyes
reflect the moon
in mine,
reminding me
of a love
greater than
the universe—
our destiny written
in the stars.
Listen to Your Heart
Nobody knows your heart better than you. Trust your instincts. Never let anyone cast a shadow over your sunshine.
Just Hold Me Tight
You can’t remove my scars or rewrite the past that haunts me. Just hold me tight and tell me everything’s going to be okay.
Betrayal
You held my heart in hands cupped—
a chalice emptied
by love’s betrayal,
treachery concealed
within a kiss,
the poison sipped
by innocent lips.
Swept Away
You were the sea
that swept me away,
only to leave
me adrift—
far from the shore,
my legs
growing tired,
of the lies
that you said,
out of my depth—
in deep water
I tread.
I Wish
I wish I could apologize for falling in love with you but I can’t. It would be like asking me to be sorry for breathing.
A Beautiful Deception
It was such a beautiful deception.
Like watching a summer storm light up the night sky without a single note of thunder heard.
Kissing your lips.
Drunk on the sweet nectar of corruption.
Never thinking my trust would be betrayed with a backward glance and smiling eyes.
As you closed the front door.
—
A single ping.
The text that wasn’t meant for me arrived.
A sip of rancid milk.
The ugly perfume of decaying roses.
A wasp stinging a bee.
—
“If you could go back in time and give yourself some advice, what would it be?”
“Even the most eloquent lie becomes vulgar when exposed to the truth.”
Love
Love is the double-edged sword that conquers hearts but can also cut the hand that wields it.
Freedom
It was another night lost in paradise.
Swaying palm trees caressed by a warm tropical breeze blowing gently from a moonlit sea.
She lit the cigarette he had made her give up. Her quiet act of defiance a release from a habit far worse than the curling smoke inhaled with smiling lips.
Blond hair falling over sun-kissed shoulders.
The old bruises painted by his fingertips fading to a lighter shade of yellow in the flickering glow of a swinging kerosene lantern.
As she walked slowly away from the beach house that had become her private sanctuary.
Far from the broken shards of a heart swept under the rug by a lover incapable of love.
“Listen to me. I know what’s best for you.”
He never really knew her at all.
How she yearned for something more than the cage he had built with golden bars.
Keeping her trapped within the insecurities that he created.
Sabrina ripped the necklace from her delicate throat. The pearls spilling down the steps made of driftwood and dry seaweed, like all the empty promises he had made, falling from cruel lips.
Her freedom now found beneath the twinkling stars.
Standing naked on the wet sand, swirling salty water running between her toes.
Remembering the words her mother once said, all those years ago.
The wisdom finally understood.
—
“Run toward your dream and never let anyone fill your pockets with rocks.”
Black and White
It was a love that transcended even the most vibrant of colors, beautiful in its simplicity—written in black and white upon two beating hearts for all the world to read.
The Bedroom
It was the end
of the beginning,
beneath tangled sheets
and sighing breath,
sex blushing pink
between your legs,
open to the possibility
of more to come,
fingernails writing
unfinished lines
down my back,
the scratches raw
and incomplete,
a river still running
whispering my name,
desire growing
again and again—
and again.
Faith
Love is a little like religion. You need to have faith before miracles can happen.
A Morning in Paris
She wore the perfume
of pages turned,
the scent of old books
upon delicate fingers,
a hint of sunshine
captured within curls
of windswept hair.
A morning made
with poetry
and swirling milk,
in coffee sipped
while Paris wakes,
the words she read
in dawn’s pale light—
how butter melts
on warm croissants.
A Muse
She
was a muse
cursed with melancholia,
her tears the ink
on my typewriter ribbon.
Last Summer
Her skin was the color of burnt caramel, so beautiful and almost glowing in the dying rays of a sleepy sun. Brown eyes melting, sweet and sugary, like the marshmallows we threaded onto crooked twigs and held over a flickering campfire.
How could I possibly resist those lips which searched for mine? As the night descended to the sound of squeaking bats flying overhead, their flapping wings skimming the treetops.
You pressed your back against the moss-covered wooden planks of a decaying boat shed. A shimmering moon swimming in the still waters of the rippling lake. Your hand reaching down, hitching up your skirt. My hand pulling your panties to one side.
We fucked.
Your legs wrapped around my waist, hips pushing hard into me, mouth slowly opening, a lock of black curly hair falling across your flushed cheeks.
—
We sat on the grassy bank, reeds swaying in rhythm to the chorus of early morning birdsong.
Your head resting on my shoulder, my finger tracing the contour of your neck.
If only time could stop and this happiness last forever.
—
“When I’m with you, love needs no explanation. It just is and we just are.”
Lonely
So magnificent
this mask I wear,
my smile drawn
with a broken
yellow crayon,
the loneliness
concealed,
in a garden
of plastic flowers—
my life revealed.
Fame
We drank martinis
with cigarettes lit,
the hedonist dream
in limousines driven,
the love we took
no quarter given,
our empty eyes—
behind sunglasses
hidden.
My Flower
You were impossible to resist. I was like a bee seduced by a flower on a glorious spring day.
Pathways
There were so many paths I could have taken in my life. Like the one that ran by the riverbank, where wild roses grew with sharp thorns. Or perhaps I should have followed my instincts and explored the track that wound its way through a dark and mysterious forest.
However, I ended up choosing the path of least resistance. The one that looked the easiest. Only to discover it was made of quicksand.
Hide-and-Seek
There were days when it seemed like I was trapped in an endless game of hide-and-seek with myself.
True Love Waits
She was my spring, a rosebud opening in the watery sunshine. This whimsical girl with grass-stained knees, her panties crumpled around a pale ankle.
A gorgeous lie kept secret from the world.
Far away from the prying eyes of a clueless boyfriend.
A delicious affair hidden within the twisted trees and rolling green hills. A story of two women madly in love, biding their time, before running away barefoot, to be lost forever.
—
“Do you ever feel guilty?” she asked, clutching a flower to her chest.
“Yes,” I replied. “But only because it has taken me so long to realize who I am and what truly stirs my heart.”
All of Me
You wanted all of me but I had nothing more to give.
Pretty Wrists
Pretty wrists
tied and tethered,
a blindfold worn—
black stockings
and leather,
pink stripper heels
bound together,
the freedom
she feels,
unchained
forever.
The Kitty Club
I’m not sure whose idea it was but it all seemed to make sense at the bottom of a vodka bottle.
Sophia tripping over the cat, correcting herself with her bare arms outstretched, walking over to the fridge on tiptoes. A tipsy girl in floral panties, smudged red lipstick, and messy hair.
All I can remember, through the haze of slurred words and the chinking of shot glasses, was that the sex had been amazing.
“You’re out of milk,” she shouted. Hanging off the fridge door like a sheet that had lost one peg on a clothesline.
“There’s some ice cream in the freezer. Maybe you can use that. I’m okay with black anyway, the stronger the coffee, the better.”
Well, I think that’s how the conversation went.
—
The new morning streamed through my bedroom window, waking me in the worst possible way.
A dazzling beam of bright sunlight blinding my squinting eyes and my head pounding.
I sat up out of bed, hovered for a matter of seconds, before collapsing back onto the pillows.
Sophia danced into the bedroom, headphones on, and threw a bottle of water onto the bed. She flashed me a smile, did a little shimmy, and danced out of the room.
She was wearing one of my shirts and nothing else.
I felt a familiar stirring under the sheet.
A hangover hard-on.
I reached for the bottle of water and cursed my stupidity for falling into the vodka trap. By now I should have known better than to try to keep up with her. I always paid a shocking price.
“You should think about hopping into the shower.”
Sophia’s shouted command from the lounge made me wince as a foggy memory descended over my fuzzy brain.
I closed my eyes and visualized the promise I had made the night before.
Now I remembered.
It had been my idea to take Sophia to the Kitty Club for lunch.
What the hell had I been thinking?
—
The codeine had finally kicked in and I started to feel human again.
Sitting in the white leather back seat of Sophia’s silver Bentley, driven by her pretty assistant, Marie.
My head propped up against the window watching the trees whizz by.
Sophia had arranged the ride while I was drowning in the shower, the cold water slapping my body back to life.
Marie had also brought over a change of clothes for her.
“What do you think? Skirt short enough?”
I turned and gazed at Sophia’s outfit.
The gray woolen pleated skirt riding up, giving a flash of red satin panties, her long black-stockinged legs attached to a pair of pale pink stripper heels.
Her look neatly finished off with a tight, body-hugging, buttoned white blouse.
“I think if you’re going for kinky secretary chic, you’ve excelled yourself.”
“Funny man. Let’s see who has the last laugh when we get to the club.”
I’d almost forgotten about why we were hurtling along the back- country road.
My dumb idea.
I had never been to the Kitty Club but heard they served up a fabulous seafood lunch and swinging sex as dessert.
There had been a write-up about the place in Outrageous magazine, and Sophia was all in when I casually mentioned it to her in between shots of vodka.
Marie hit the horn.
A group of ducks flew up from the road, narrowly missing the windscreen.
She then spun the wheel, doing a hand brake turn, sliding the Bentley into a tight left-hand corner.
“Fuck! What the fuck!” I yelled, my head slamming back into the headrest.
Sophia grinned and patted my leg.
“Look, we’re almost there,” said Marie laughing.
The Bentley slowed down to an elegant purr as it rolled up the gr
avel driveway, a row of conifer trees lining the sides.
I could see a sandstone manor perched on a hill in the near distance.
“It looks so gorgeous,” Sophia sighed.
—
We were met at the steps by two gentlemen dressed in identical white tuxedos and dark sunglasses.
One of them took the keys from Marie and the other handed us each a narrow black velvet mask.
“Discretion is everything,” he said politely as the three of us put on the masks.
We looked like well-dressed cat burglars.
“Now just take the steps up to the main door and please wait to be seated.”
Sophia took a £50 note from her Prada handbag and tried to give the tip to the attendant.
He waved his hand and smiled.
“No need,” he said. “It’s our pleasure to have you as our guests.”
We walked up the steps and pushed open the heavy wooden door which led to a grand marble hallway and antique reception desk. Where we were greeted by a well-dressed elderly woman, who
looked like she had stepped out of a classic, black and white, 1940s Hollywood movie.
“Welcome to the Kitty Club!” she said warmly. “Now before I take you to your table, I just want to tell you about the house rules. First, treat everyone with respect and remember no means no. Secondly, the club has the right to remove any guest who is rude or gets drunk. The third rule is terribly important; all gentlemen must wear a condom when performing. Lastly, have fun, my dears!”
Sophia leaned over and whispered into my ear.
“I hope you paid close attention to the second rule.”
Smoke & Mirrors Page 1