My Runaway Mistress

She is a soothing yet deceitful lady, my mistress.

Her tranquil, translucent gowns with shimmering white ruffles left me to see what was underneath, a combination of silked olive tones.

Her hair, an array of emeralds and shamrock in colour, haloes her curving body in winding stretches.

She is irresistible.

So much so that I find myself slipping from beside my wife in the early hours of the morning.

And with a troubled mind, I find her.

She listens and whispers to me, words of wisdom and courage.

Her siren voice calls out to me, beckoning me to find her, as she drifts away.

But my map and searches are always cut short, for I must return home, for she I and I cannot be.

She has made it clear to me that I am not, and can not be, her only subject, she is a giving soul but all at once, she hides a secret.

My mistress is ever moving in her quest for peace, guiding those who find her along the way, but she does not speak of the lives she took under her name, ones she never let go of.

Her mesmerising ripples of words don’t always hold a kind nature, she sometimes uses it for those she is unwilling to free.

But I suppose that I am one of the lucky ones, at least for now.

And yet, knowing what I do, I cannot let her go, nor forget her.

She will never cease her movements, and neither will I.

I shall chase her wherever she may go, even if I must hide the motives for such ventures from my family.

I will find her and I hope that one day, she and I will meet again.

To you, my runaway mistress.