Posted in Blog

Solitude Is A Solid Ally

I want to be free,

but I chain myself to pain,

in case it leaves me.

She has always stayed,

lonely on my window sill,

chains around her neck.

She is not ideal,

but she is complex, constant.

Maybe, that’s real love.

Posted in Blog

A Quiet Life

They’re complaining again, and I’m trapped, somewhere in the ceiling, because that’s where I was left, when everyone ran away and it suddenly became my job to avoid their ever changing moods, and daily drinking binges.

I type out a text, with my own complaints, about how I’m so tired from all the tornados, how I’m sick of standing alone, in the ceiling, with no solidarity, while hell unleashes below me, because everyone I know (but me, apparently) is afraid of talking like adults about their grown up gaffes, none of which are mine, so why am I here? And why did you bring this to my door? And don’t you know I’m too old and too jaded for this drama?

They’re complaining again. I think they’ve had cider, and I’m an enabler, because I got it for them, to save an argument, because even in my ceiling, I’m afraid, just like them, even though I stayed, I’m afraid, I’m just looking for a quiet life. A quiet life is a luxury I will never afford, in this economy.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Julian Was Coming To Visit

Glassy eyes,

against the glass,

of the garden facing window.

Day is done,

dinner,

unfulfilling,

clock ticking,

then snailing.

I hold a picture of him,

beside my beating heart,

that breaks,

with every minute.

Time snakes,

snailing,

hope hounded,

but prevailing,

because he could arrive,

at any minute.

Life is a surprise,

if you let it be.

Nurses collide,

whispering in the doorway,

about how he phoned,

how he’s sorry,

how he’s busy,

how they should tell me.

His picture,

pierces my heart,

until it is shattered and silent,

but I keep on living,

alone,

antique,

that he keeps,

in an expensive cupboard,

until he can collect his inheritance.