Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Honey Kitten

Honey, I’m your kitten,
bitten by reality too many times to grow old,
so, I’m frozen in time,
like the peaches and limes we keep locked in the freezer drawer,
in case we have company.
I want you next to me,
fireworks collide in the sky when we kiss,
and I never know if they are real or a blissful dream,
but it doesn’t matter,
because I am your kitten,
frozen in time,
yours, as long as you’re mine.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Nobody Remembers

I am in the dark,
the walls dance up and down the corridor,
a simple, sad song,
about how nobody will remember me when I’m gone.
My vanity is a victim to my suggestible nature,
and I start to wonder,
if nobody remembers,
then what was the point of the pain?
Nobody remembers my name,
and I don’t remember why I…

I don’t remember who I….

I planted daisies on the dark side of the moon for you,
but you weren’t moved.
You just moved on.
My body wasn’t even cold,
my soul was struggling to escape my corpse before burial,
but you weren’t moved.
I became a faded memory,
less clear with every passing second,
and nobody stopped by to water my babies when I passed.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Fire Fighter

I looked at the flames behind me,
and I thought,
“No. I’ve had enough adventures for today.”
It spread like a rabid rumour,
or the proverbial wildfire,
but I was not moved,
ice cold,
with a tether right around my throat,
stop me speaking,
keep me pure.

I never needed lessons in loyalty,
just a cure for the endless apathy,
something to keep me grounded (quite literally),
so I wouldn’t fade away into my daydreams.
As I watched the world burn,
while continuing to turn,
a defiant dead thing,
I felt her fingertips,
tight around the tail of my reality,
and I decided to stay a little longer.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Morning Eyes

She had the brightest eyes whenever morning came,

a guiding light,

a golden thread,

my soul, surrendering to her spell,

enchanted and enraptured.

Eyes like the Irish Sea,

like watching the sun rise on sand covered steps,

with a cigarette and last night’s cider,

intoxicated but wide awake.