For Lang,
In your eyes I see myself. I see the love
we never thought was possible.
Cult of Two
Introduction
Cult of Two is my fifth book, but it feels a lot like my first.
For those of you who are familiar with my work, don’t be surprised if you discover the ghost of Dirty Pretty Things hiding somewhere within the pages.
In fact, I should warn you now—this book is fucking haunted.
Things may go bump in the night when you read it.
The words are dripping with magic and mischief. So please be careful not to let this rather strange book possess you. Like it did me, writing it.
Red roses and broken hearts.
My gift to you.
On this cold winter’s night.
All my love,
— Michael xo
I Am the Girl
In the quiet times—
when I think about my life,
you come to me,
banging pots and pans
inside my head,
your voice screaming—
I am the girl
you’ll never forget.
A Certain Something
You had a certain something about you. A strange, brooding darkness that was incredibly sexy and somewhat impossible to ignore. Whenever you smiled, it was like the sun breaking through the storm.
The Last Days of Summer
Perhaps it was the rhythmic chant of cicadas that lulled me into this calm state of being. The last days of summer—in all its glorious sunsets and fading colors. Nature’s delightful, intoxicating, narcotic. Freeing my mind from the chaos of simply breathing.
A Midnight Call
Be careful—
someone might be listening.
I can almost hear
that rebellious smile
in your silent reply.
The one you wear
so well on rosy lips.
Your hushed moans
begin again,
becoming louder.
Pretty mouth—
pressed up against
the hotel phone.
Love Defined
Burn all the dictionaries, tear up the tired metaphors, and tell the poets to go to hell. For you are the true definition of love. The only one I shall ever need.
Only You Could Write
A wave explodes—
the slow rumble
of thunder,
swirling sand
and seaweed.
A paperback novel—
resting on a bed
of broken seashells,
the pages open—
a sentence underlined
in pencil gray.
You kiss me—
the scent of weed
lingering on lips,
only you could
write a sunset
this beautiful.
Holding hands
beneath tangerine skies,
a sea of rolling fire
and flying fish,
a daydream made real—
in the shutter click
of an eyelid.
Sticky Tape
My fingers pull
clear sticky tape
from nipples,
just as you orgasm—
how exquisite
the pleasure found,
in so little pain.
Our First Breath
When we enter this world,
knowing nothing of life,
how ironic—
our first breath
begins with tears.
How Strange
How strange these late nights—dreaming of sleep. Listening to the owls sing and thinking about you.
Daffodils
My obsession for you—
black ribbons untied
in a cheap airport motel.
The scent of sex
still clinging to your legs.
Eyes mesmerized,
spellbound—
searching for answers.
Do daffodils cry
when the sun is shining?
It’s the Little Things
It’s the little things I love the most. The beauty found in the mundane. Strawberry jam and toast crumbs—a morning kiss.
Chopping Onions
Chopping onions
on a Wednesday night—
how strange the things
we remember,
when our world
is falling apart,
disintegrating—
in slow motion.
I’m not sure
who cried the most,
impossible to tell
when tears hide
behind tears.
Not that it matters,
when a bottle
is empty,
the wine finished—
and so are we.
You and Me
You once told me that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Unfortunately the same can’t be said for finding love.
I Had No Idea
A light rain shower
in bright sunshine—
that’s how you
hid your sadness,
my eyes blinded
by your smile,
mistaking the tears
for happiness.
A Secret Place
I can take you to a secret place, somewhere not far from here, where the desert stars sing lullabies to the brokenhearted.
After the Party
A sweet hint
of summer strawberries,
on glistening lips
stained sticky red.
Our first kiss—
under a waning moon,
adrift in a sea
of silent black.
A bra strap falls,
breathy notes
by fingers played—
on blades of green
beneath twisted trees.
A whisper of silk
on midnight thigh,
as panties drop
with gentle sigh.
Never Us
It was always about you. Seldom me. And never us.
You Moved On
You moved on—
before the dust could settle.
So fast—
not even a single strand
of silver cobweb
was left behind
to hold on to.
No spider could spin
a web that quickly.
All the Time I Possess
All the time I possess, from milliseconds to hours, blessed days to precious years—I give it all to you.
To Be in Love
Dappled sunlight
slowly dancing
on goose-bumped
winter skin.
A dawn begins
for naked bodies,
a mad dash—
from silver sand
to waiting sea.
How glorious it is
to be in love,
to be young—
to be free.
In Love with Words
I’m not just in love with words, I’m possessed by them. My life con
sumed by the twenty-six letters of the alphabet and all the countless possibilities they bring to a page. How beautiful this world of dust and cobwebs. Where the pen is mightier than the vacuum cleaner.
Fingers Burnt
A bad relationship can be defined by the striking of a match. The longer you hold on to it, the greater the likelihood of getting your fingers burnt.
Look at Me
“Look at me,” you cry—
a hand between
your legs.
Hardcore masturbation
in all its primal glory.
A hips rising,
eyes closing,
mouth opening,
toes curling—
private show
for one.
Herding Cats
You told me to stop letting my emotions run away from me. But how can I? Herding cats in the dark with one arm tied behind my back would be easier than controlling these feelings I have for you.
Burnt Toast
A wisp of smoke
in morning sun,
a slice of toast,
ignored, forgotten.
Left to burn—
its meaning lost,
the slow decay
of happiness,
from golden brown
to cinder black.
Not even honey
can take away
the bitter aftertaste.
When depression
is served up,
in bite-sized pieces.
A Slow Pirouette
You took my hand and made it yours. Guiding my fingers beneath the hem of your panties. Showing me exactly how you wanted to be touched—like a ballerina in the spotlight doing a slow pirouette.
Crazy
It was the fear
of losing you,
that drove me away—
I realize now
just how crazy
that sounds.
It was my insecurity,
my self-doubt,
that slowly trapped me—
like a straightjacket
tailor-made for one.
And not even
your undying love
could free me—
from myself.
Never Close Enough
There’s no denying we had chemistry and a strong desire to be together. Yet somehow you were never willing to make a commitment. Close but never close enough.
Like walking on a tightrope in high heels.
We Didn’t Fall in Love
We didn’t fall in love—
it was more like
the slow descent
of a feather
on a windless day.
A leaky tap
filling an ocean,
drip by drip.
Like our world
had forgotten
how to turn.
In a universe
high on morphine.
Happy New Year
Years may come and go but my love for you is a never-ending fireworks show.
Perhaps
The inability to be decisive—
to ponder love
with no conclusion,
to give hope
when all is hopeless,
there is no divide
more divisive.
Never Again
You asked me to give you a second chance and all you gave me back was a repeated mistake.
Unforgettable
I can still
remember when—
we carved our love
into the bark
of winter trees.
Your smile
never forgotten—
always found.
Wandering—
in the forest
of past lovers.
Black Rain
The pitter-patter
of droplets bleak,
no end in sight,
no grief complete—
this endless sorrow
of which I speak.
How Love Feels
A lull in the storm. The sparkle of sunshine held by the rain. This is how love feels. Just when you thought everything was lost.
Screaming Sex
Swirling smoke
from the last drag
on a dying joint.
You strike a pose
wearing black leather
crotchless panties.
Giving me—that look.
Doe-eyed innocence
meets bitten lip.
Beautifully perverse,
breathtaking—
a silent surrender.
Screaming sex
without saying
a single word.
Rebellious Spirit
Love is a rebellious spirit that doesn’t seek permission or ask for approval.
Unbreakable
Thrown sticks
and hurled stones,
all the fucking lies
and dirty tricks—
never let them
break you.
Inside Every Cherry
In matters of love it’s tempting to be picky. But never forget, inside every cherry, no matter how delicious—you’ll always find a stone.
The Eleventh First Date
“I do rather enjoy these random little drives into the country. How we always seem to find a quiet place to park. Far away from prying eyes,” Sophia said, quickly checking her lipstick in the rearview mirror.
“This spot looks perfect,” I replied.
Sophia pressed down on the brake pedal and slowly steered the white Bentley into the rest stop, which was surrounded by beautiful oak trees and overlooked a vista of rolling green fields.
“Yes this will do nicely,” she said, turning off the ignition.
I could already hear the excitement in her voice as she unclipped her seat belt and pulled up her gray pleated cotton skirt, revealing a pair of white panties and pale winter thighs.
“You know, this dirty little game of yours is quite mad and terribly kinky.”
“Oh, hush now,” she cooed, opening her legs a fraction wider on the tan leather seat. “Just pretend it’s our first date again and give my pussy a damn good fingering.”
—
The afternoon sun slowly slipped away behind the trees—leaving behind a dying sky of sunset orange and shadowy clouds.
“It’s such a crying shame we only get to live a single lifetime,” Sophia sighed.
I took her delicate hand in mine and pressed it to my lips. Softly kissing each finger. “Every second spent with you is a lifetime. Every hour—an eternity.”
I Want Your Love
I want your love—
every color
of the rainbow.
Every drop
of winter rain.
And when you
give it to me—
it will never
be enough.
Perfection
Perfection is a race that can never be won.
Riding the Subway
Lifeless verse—
written with a dead pen.
Black ink spilt
on a cold December,
riding the subway
in an endless loop.
Where lonely drunks
meet rejected lovers.
A swig of sorrow
inside every bottle,
but never enough
to dull the pain.
A brown paper bag
&
nbsp; therapy session—
of shattered dreams
and broken hearts.
Priorities
Possessions are temporary. There are no storage units in the afterlife.
The Mad Princess
She wore a silver tiara
and white bikini,
dancing backward
across the sand.
In her palace—
only madness reigns.
This princess
doing somersaults,
chasing thunderbolts—
drinking champagne
in the rain.
The Hardest Goodbye
I knew I had to set you free. To put my feelings aside and let love slip through my fingers. It wasn’t easy. But if you try to keep hold of a butterfly—you run the risk of crushing it.
The Broom Closet
There was an almost surreal element to Serena’s sexual desires.
And tonight was no exception.
There were no scattered rose petals or tiny lit candles.
Just a trail of strawberry sherbet sprinkled down the hallway. Which I followed until I reached the end point—a broom closet. Where a pink postage note was stuck to the door with the words, Sex lives here, scribbled in green pen.
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Serena was standing inside. Her naked body lit by a single lightbulb. I could see she had tipped the last remains of the sherbet over her pussy.
She flashed me a mischievous smile and said, “Lick it clean.”
Her words were not so much a request but a command. So I did as I was told. I knelt down on the wooden floorboards and roughly parted her pussy lips with my fingers. I began to lick and suck on her clitoris, feeling the tingle of the sherbet on my tongue.
Serena pressed her hips into my face and started to moan.
I kept up the rhythm, slow and steady, until I felt her hand tap my shoulder. It was the signal to stop and give her what she so desperately desired.
A good hard fucking.
Now it was my turn to be the boss.
I got up off my knees, stood up, and unbuckled my black leather belt. Threading it through the loops, one by one, until it was free.
Cult of Two Page 1
