Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Good Things Are Coming Soon

Escaping out the window,

I rest on the roof,

chirping like a little bird,

soaking up the sweetness of the sun.

I write a love song with the harmonising wind,

keeping a fragment of your voice inside my inner monologue,

for those moments when my body feels like it can’t survive another day without being held.

I can survive,

but I won’t be happy about it.

I still find things to smile about,

the thought of the first smiles we’ll exchange,

soon,

a long kiss,

after interrupted months,

where I held you,

only in my dreams.

Soon.

Good things are coming soon.

I tell myself that every time the time of day dictates I should wake,

and the world starts running, without me.

I catch up,

eventually,

knowing that good things are coming soon,

but until then,

my only peace is when I write under the moon,

on the tiny bit of roof that I can escape to,

through the window of my bedroom.

I tell the moon that good things are coming,

and she tells me that she can’t wait.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

I Should Not Be Seeing You

Late love,

under the stars,

under covers,

under the influence of how soft your voice is when you’re with me,

how soft your hands behave when they’re with me.

Midnight rendezvous,

tied together,

tied up in this mad romance,

my veins are clean,

but I am intoxicated,

eyes closed as you pull me closer,

the kiss felt around the world,

because my world is right here,

between your sheets.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Car Park Kiss

There have been many sweet kisses,

in many sweet places,

but the sweetest and most special,

happened somewhere so unspectacular.

September night,

my heart heavy at the thought of going home alone,

when you’d spent so long making my world feel full.

You made those hours feel like heaven,

and as we kissed outside your car,

an empty, echoing car park became heaven too.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

The Sunrise

When I think about you,

I see the sunrise,

in the back of my mind,

because I wrote a song,

alone in my bedroom,

about how it felt to watch you wake up,

a swarm of butterflies underneath the sheets with me,

as the sun sat on the windowsill,

watching you, along with me,

the sun,

glancing, glistening up and down your skin,

and you were so beautiful,

so blindingly beautiful.

I wrote a song,

alone in my bedroom,

about how the sun rose,

simply because it couldn’t stay away from you,

simply because it had to stare at you,

simply because you were the most beautiful thing that the sun, or I had ever seen.

When I hear that song,

I see the sunrise,

I hear the clattering of trains outside your window,

I feel your soft skin pressed against mine,

and I feel as bright as the sun,

I feel like I am in the sky,

glowing like an angel,

my heart glows like an angel, for you.

When I think about you,

I see the sunrise,

for she is my rival,

creeping through your window every morning,

to remind you that you are the most beautiful thing that the sun, or I will ever see.

Sunday sun,

wakes us up,

morning meets us,

I’m so in love…

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Lost In The Woods

The last streams of sunlight crawl through broken, bare branches,

as night falls,

and I find myself falling on the soft ground,

surrounded by grass decorated with frost,

half dead candles, that still dare to shine, long into the night.

I find myself falling to a place I won’t escape,

I’m dreaming again,

surrounded by my spells,

my sentimental attachments to things in the real world,

that I can’t quite reach from my casa in the clouds.

I think you cast a love spell,

because I forget myself when I’m around you,

I can’t breathe when I’m around you,

and when we are apart,

my heart is not my own,

my heart just sings a lonely song she wrote,

to show you that she was devoted.

Soft and sensitive,

I sing lullabies to the falling, dying leaves,

writing your name, neatly, across their spines,

placing them gently in my hair,

feeling them fall as I walk,

leaving a trail,

so I can be sure of all the places that I adored you.