Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Silvery

Sunday,

you are sweet on me,

staring as I sing,

surrounded by sage,

spelling out my own name,

with the spiralling smoke.

You kiss me,

in the car,

outside of church,

the devil is loose,

as you pray,

hands on my waist,

tender,

then tighter,

your resolve,

wrecked,

wavering,

wild wolves beat in your heart,

breaking free,

when we are alone,

and you are insane.

I am sweet,

on your sheets,

bound and beautiful,

yours,

completely.

Crowned by the glow,

of your chaotic energy,

complicated communications,

that spill from you to me.

There is silver seduction,

safe in my hands,

as I hold you close,

the night,

knowing our secrets,

but keeping our confidence.

I hear your call,

at the harbour,

when you return,

every morning,

but you cannot stop yourself from doubting,

that I am devoted to you.

I think you might love me forever,

fretting,

on the ferry home,

that you aren’t enough for me,

but my soul is in the sea,

guiding your heart towards mine,

and your name,

is clear and strong,

in every wave.

I wait.

I wait.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

A Change

Black lace,

baked into my skin,

into my soul.

I know who I was supposed to be,

born and bred,

by Aphrodite,

to belong to somebody,

sleeping in silk,

breathing bridal vows,

in my dreams,

they flow around me,

floating like clouds,

abstract ideas.

I know that one day,

it will come,

but when…

When…

When?

Am I a wife,

or a widow?

It depends,

on the day of the week,

and the things they say to me,

and if I can convince myself,

that it wont fall apart,

that I won’t fall apart,

again.

How many “How are you?”,

“Send pics”

“Sorry, I’m just not after something serious”

invasions must I endure?

Reversals,

oppositions,

but eventual ever after.

Someone who will be fair,

to my frightened heart.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

I Have Been Many Queens

I remember his fear,

as he found my fingertips in the night,

holding them,

as if they were his only anchor to the real world.

How he wept into my hair,

confessing to the night,

that he was afraid to fall in love with me,

in case he lost himself.

I thought I might tell him,

that losing yourself to love,

is surprisingly liberating,

but I knew,

his mind was made up,

and that I would lose him,

when the sun rose.

He sent me roses,

a few weeks later,

telling me I was still on his mind,

but that if I didn’t mind,

he’d like me to leave.

The choice was not mine to make,

but I smiled,

and thought very loudly about leaving,

anyway,

just to be polite,

or to reassure him,

that sometimes your heart can be controlled.

I used to visit him,

in the prison he promised he’d never build for himself,

sending him nail files and escape plans,

that he never opened,

receiving nudes and the occasional teary rant in return.

He seems angry,

sometimes,

because I found a way to live,

he’s sensitive,

that I’m not spending my days,

drawn to him,

knocking on windows,

like I’m lost and in love on the moors.

I can’t say I never cried,

but I can’t say I stayed either,

but is it a crime,

to decide,

that you are too sweet to stay on the shelf,

until the children grow up?

I’ve never fallen in love,

on purpose,

it always takes me by surprise,

but it’s so strong when it happens,

that sometimes,

I think I might sympathise with those it frightens,

but as they beckon me backward,

track marks,

from our entanglement,

on their arms,

and the eyes of a mad man,

that say “I haven’t slept in days”,

I start to wonder,

if I ever really loved them at all,

or if I just obsess over converting “considering” into “I would die for you”.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love,

or if I just liked feeling like someone could love me,

one day,

if I am a good enough girl,

and became so consumed by the thought,

that I thought “This is it!”

so I wait,

and I hope,

that I’ll figure it out,

or that something will find me,

and I can be lost again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blog, Personal

Carried Away

I made a clean start,

breaking away,

walking through the fire,

I’d waited to light.

I am at home,

with who I become

when I get carried away.

Take me away.

Show me where else my life could go.

I have a forest in my dreams,

where we escape,

and I am excitable,

like a little child,

because life is beginning again,

and I feel alive again,

and I am healing once again,

breathing your ambitions for me,

into my skin.

Maybe you’re just another mistake,

or maybe you’ve always been my path,

and I was just lost before.

 

Posted in Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Bees

Shed not one tear.

I am only a memory,

that you revisit,

reminiscing,

until you see me again,

but I ask you not to cry,

if this is the last time.

So it may be,

that tomorrow is a lovely day,

like Vera promised.

I tried not to promise,

too much of myself,

but in the end,

I was helpless to your hunger.

Wilting and then rising again,

sick but sweet symbiosis,

that makes your friends roll their eyes,

and your mum say,

that maybe you’re moving too fast.

Shed not one tear.

I am not ready, to see you miss me.

I am not ready to see, how my vanishing acts,

vandalise you.

Tomorrow used to be this little idea,

that I thought wasn’t real,

in the way some people look at climate change and think,

“nah”

So it may be,

that I am bound to you.

I share with you,

everything, including,

my disruptive dramatics,

screaming into pillows,

then melting into your lap.

You can’t seem to get enough,

and I used to worry,

that you will always follow me,

but now,

I worry that you won’t.