I have taken
some photos
that are on
a man’s phone
which
i was saving
for true love
that never arrived
Forgive me
they may leak
but they are delicious
so sweet
and he is so cold.
Tag: Creative Writing
mar sin leat
I thought I might drink myself to death,
and see where that got me,
maybe you’d come back,
racked with regret,
if there was nothing,
nobody to come back to.
I told you I loved you,
with an honest smile,
so many times,
that it just became a habit,
a reflex,
intuitively inserting itself into my vocabulary,
when I thought of you,
and now,
I have these words,
that sound weird in my mouth,
because I know they belong to you,
but I know that I can’t let you have them.
I think I was intruding,
as you found another me.
I was tipsy,
boozed up,
brave,
locked up,
leaving my inhibitions,
and common sense on the kitchen side,
typing out a subtler form of
“Excuse me, he’s mine”.
I don’t know if you ever were,
or if I was just your winter romance,
darling distraction,
something to do,
until doomsday came,
and you decided you wanted something new.
I told you,
that you were cruel.
You couldn’t take it.
Turning away from the term,
as if it wounded you.
I was a wounded, wistful, wasted thing,
just asking for a refund,
on those lost months,
and the heart I had hastily given you.
Truly, Nothing Lasts
I knew it would hurt,
just another scar, I guess.
You promised. Always.
You promised always,
and I wanted to believe,
so, alas, I did.
Nothing Lasts Forever, Except You and Me
Your last words echo like a gunshot,
I haunt the home where we kissed goodbye,
but I don’t cry,
(only sometimes),
because nothing lasts forever,
except you and me.
Night life,
I’m the queen of the sleep scene,
living out our dreams,
in a place where the world won’t find me.
You’re right beside me,
waking up in secret realms,
we walk the earth,
until we tire of it,
treading new ground,
in the new creations of our imaginations.
I live in lace,
when I’m with you,
blushing bride,
that never ventures down from the clouds,
because nothing lasts forever,
not dreams,
or destitution.
Separation always ends in reunion,
if you can find a reason,
and you know that I’m creative,
so,
nothing lasts forever,
in this sweet, strange world of ours,
the world burns down beside us,
we kiss under the glow of the moon,
undeterred by everything we know,
concious uncoupling from existence,
because nothing lasts forever,
except you and me.
I hope we last forever,
you and me.
La Vie En Rose
Painting a picture of us,
with excited and exhausted eyelashes,
pure and passionate,
on the pavements of Paris.
Walking with wide eyes,
rues of roses,
rare moments,
where we can be alone,
wrapped in each other’s arms,
wrapped up in a dream.
Regret leaks onto the landscape,
for the future is so far,
and I am alone,
unsure,
but warmed by the bittersweet joy of waiting,
consumed by wanderlust,
consuming carefree days,
where the weather will be dreary,
but my dearest love,
will spill sunshine,
across the street,
when he looks at me.
Filling my mouth,
with foods,
and feelings I can’t pronounce.
Crème brûlée.
I can’t survive without you.
Mousse au chocolat.
(I said I couldn’t pronounce it…)
You are the love of my life.
Lipgloss, gone,
a single cigarette,
shared,
alight on a balcony,
between two hearts,
two kisses,
then three,
four,
forever.
Cool air of autumn winds,
kick up the leaves,
all around us,
surrounded by aspiration,
inspiration for my next book,
and our first set of holiday photos,
that will lay forgotten,
until we fight,
until we have to find our way back,
to that day,
where I tried a new food,
after several exhausting minutes,
of menu meandering,
and you tried to pretend you finally believed,
as I pulled you into a fortune teller’s lair,
with a little kiss.
Life,
and love,
are never as simple,
not always as beautiful,
as the picture I have in my mind,
of Paris.
Life is not La Vie En Rose,
I can’t pretend that we,
or gay Paris,
shall always be perfect,
unscathed by the uncertainties of the world,
and it’s unfortunate unpredictability,
but,
my love,
it’s only you,
for me,
and me,
for you,
for life.
