Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Hello, Again

You are a song,

I sometimes hear,

in the back of my mind,

when I am away with the fairies.

I called you last night,

by mistake,

awaking with the memory of you,

your curiosity,

for what I became,

after we parted ways,

all the ways I was so different,

and the ways I’d stayed the same.

Sometimes,

I think that maybe I’ve been driven mad,

by days that became weeks,

weeks that went on far too long,

but then I see you,

and I love you,

in a languishing,

lingering way,

and I realise that I was always a little bit mad.

I had to be,

give my mind, entirely, to you.

 

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Ashes

Your ashes take flight,

flirting with every flower you find,

in a garden that is mine,

mine alone.

It could have been yours,

if you didn’t descend,

desecrated plastic,

permanently banished.

Photographs,

promises,

leap into the air,

as ashes,

and I give birth to a girl,

Bambi legs,

brown eyes,

that find the future,

in the setting sun.

Posted in Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Something About Him

He found himself,

panicking,

packing his soul into so many boxes,

that he left by my door,

every time he came to call,

hoping that one day,

Id invite him,

and his baggage in.

He found himself,

wishing I’d write his name,

a million ways,

for the rest of my days,

crestfallen,

when I told him,

I was the kind of girl,

that wasn’t going to be around for long.

My house was rented,

my home was wherever I ended up,

my heart knows it wants to belong to someone,

but can never decide who is worthy.

I never planned to be alive,

beyond twenty five,

but something about him,

soothes my lust for living in heaven.

Something about him,

makes me want to stay.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Saviour

Soft, shy waves,

collide with clouds and sky,

meeting at midnight,

stars sleep silently,

above us.

I remember love,

how it lay in wait,

around every corner,

to capture me,

enraptured and evolving.

Soon,

as always,

I revolved around romantic revolutions,

knowing you would bring nothing but trouble,

but knowing I had no real choice.

Last summer,

you called to say you quit drinking,

desperate to see life,

a little lighter.

I became your nectar,

I remember,

Westminster Bridge,

where we were so optimistic,

about the obstacles still to come,

that anxious excitement,

could be somewhere,

at the bottom of the bottle,

but we decided never to find out.