A crappily structured love poem – Happy Anniversary my love [POEM]

My mind only sees your colours.
Only your smells passing through
The echoing corridors until
They merge together into your touch,
Your sounds, your taste.

Muted purples and browns swirl
Like cinnamon and sandalwood
Smoke, while stars blink out
In a crystal, iced blue that seems
Far too warm to be mortal.

Rich coffee laced with thick
Chocolate, canvas to be painted
On, raw silk and comfort.
You are my room of safety and
Joy, of silent happiness.

Everything I could need, in the
Richest fabrics. You are not
A flash, you are not gold, but
You do not need to be. You are
Pure quality, not shine.

You are my fireplace on cold,
Rainy days, in a messy room full
Of cushions and memories.
I will live in you forever. I was
Yours since I fell into your eyes.

[POEM] Loneliness

Silent drives with you under dark silk skies
Mean more to me than all of their lies.
Peace might not shine as hard as love after
Quarrel, but I melt into joy at your laughter.
I wouldn’t trade our silent moments together
For the loud loneliness of past lived forever.
For the taste of bitter excitement and longing
Instead of the soft buttery warmth thronging
In my heart for you. For always. For better, and always best.

[POEM] Tether

This tether is tenuous, flimsy
As I swing against billowing wind.
Half sleeping wakefulness,
Drinking in my lethargy like the
Sweetest liqueur.

Swimming in syrup that chokes
Into my lungs, I can’t gasp
Or scream, though I desperately
Want to. Spitting out the bile only
For it to pour back in.

I can’t cling, or grab, or crawl,
Only swing at the mercy of this
Thin string of consciousness.
When will I be awake enough
To smell the Earth again?

[POEM] Overturned evenings

Fingertips lace against the thin film of sleep
Endlessly and without successful reverie
And she keeps her eyes wide open, in hope
She will spot the sandman knocking at her door.

Cold air washes over her old bones left in the
Mortal realm of consciousness. She wilts,
A broken flower that feeds on starlight in her
Dreams. She begins to weaken into herself daily.

Bleached beneath alter darkness, skin flushes
With desperation. Mind forgets and numbs as
Pill after pill tumbles past her lips and down the
Cavern of her throat. Her roots are stuck in her bed.

Alone, as anyone beneath moonlight with wide
Quiet eyes always is. Her brown orbs hush deeply.
The silence echoes around her as her heart begs.
Let me visit my dreams once more. Let me live.

[POEM] .

I can feel their grip tightening today.
Where reality becomes as tenuous
As the breath from my imagined
Demons. Which should I turn
My cheek to?

Reaching for their overdue pay.
They make living just as arduous
As the dreams that blackened
My heart. How should I burn
My sins away?

I curl myself into comforts that
Stretch as far as time, but penetrate
Shallow into my soul. When will
I be whole. When should I battle
For my life?

Vision turns angled and flat.
Sounds bombard me and reverberate
Through bleached bones. My pill
Won’t make me whole. Who will rattle
My chains for freedom?

Darkness and coffin surround
Me unseen, until I bury myself,
With only my imagination to weep
At my death. What has this
Sorry life become?

[POEM] Dusk lances

Footfalls unbidden, ruffling dusted lanes.
Heavy, unabashed. Soft loudness
Brushes against the leaves of living
Trees, surrounding the dusk light.
She saw their frame close in to her.
Enfold around her as her eyes widened.

The trumpets of war sounded as her
Steps came to a halt. At first echoes
Were enough, but soon Apollo would
Not allow just a gentle thrum within
Her ears. Birds twittered, swelling
Sounds of earth and rock and life.

Noise rooted her. Slowly Deafening.
Her eyes stared as Dusk lanced
Into her heart, golden and muted
Purple with poison. She watched.
As she died, she watched.
As the sky fell into her empty chest.

Her void heart had begged for this
Living death. Tears dripped, thick,
From her empty eyes. The sky
Wept with her from cloudless depths:
“Sky child your time is done. Come
Back to my cold heights in love.”

Knees buckles, skin bled as limp
Body slumped to the ground. She
Felt herself drift away, to the sky,
To its mellowing darkness and lofty
Heights. Forever. And he would have
To find her. Hidden, in plain sight, behind a cloudless sky.


[Writing] About Today

“About Today”

She was a pirate, with sword in hand and had dipping low on her face. Too big for her, grin full of trouble and hands full of flair and swind.

She was running, Grass whirring past her bare feet. Leaping, dodging, laughing into the still air that she whipped into a breeze.

She was a writer, sat in her retreat, pen on paper and mind stuck on a story she couldn’t quite get out into the world. But dammit she would try.

Her hand lifted up and the gun shot. A harmless pellet rang out and a cry of laughter erupted.

She was a space pilot, decked in spandex in a sombre suit. Her stern features carved from a stalwart stone of stubborn determination.

He whizzed past and shot back, more laughter, and the sound of his voice singing along with the birds in bliss.

She was a singer, alone in a room without an audience, clad in her dreams and eyes shut and drowning to the world. But not so alone, one figure sitting and watching her from the dark theatre and letting her pained voice embalm him.

She tumbled to the grass. He tumbled down with her, wrestling away the gun. Fledglings that they were, all they had was laughter, and each other in the open air.

She was a warrior. Armor shone, tarnished from recent battle. Stern sadness was in her eyes and loss echoed from the glint of her eyes and the blood on her sword. Her shield hung in one limp hand.

They looked at eachother, her atop him as she regained her toy gun and his. Both were dropped, and her hands were busy reaching for his heart as the music tinkled gently around them.

[And I just watched you.]

She was walking. Rows of houses on either side in the cold darkness. Uneven paving tumbled below her feet, the thick block of her heel clumping along with the music she had turned up to drown out the world. Her eyes saw everything, but nothing. Her feet kept steady pace. A cat ran past her path and she bent to offer out her hand. It ran off.

The music became louder. The drum beats fierce, but they weren’t supposed to be.

She shielded her eyes from a sudden house light, and looked around. She was alone in the neighbourhood street.

Another light. Pounding, she raised up both arms in defence as they came up with each deafening beat in her ear. Her face went from dreaming to scared. Things began to rush past her, not cats. Shadows. Things. Lights, Movement. Not tangible. They started to crowd her as they fled past and away and ignoring the pain scratching at her ribcage.

She was drenched in the lights, beckoning down on her and judging, and her face was torn. She felt the chaos of her brain on the outside of her body pressing in. These whirring, sprinting lights and shadows. They were London, they were Singapore, they were Istanbul and Paris. They were all the quiet places, too, where her mind screamed the most. Normandie, Boulogne, Oxford, her room. Her dozens of rooms where she had sat trapped away from the judging gaze of the lights.

The Pirate was a girl with a hat too large, and a roll of used wrapping paper in one hand.

She crouched and huddled faster away from the lights, feeling the scream inside of her.

The writer was a girl bunched up on a seat in the tube, scribbling in frustration at a page that simply wouldn’t come to life like her mind.

She hid her face from the glaring lights, eyes burning so hard that tears began to well between her lashes, the music overpowering everything inside of her.

The pilot was a girl with that toy gun, standing in preparation, thinking of the world and how it wanted to hurt her.

Her lips opened in a silent sob, as her hands clawed around her own head, stuck in this reverie of a nightmare.

The singer was a girl in the shower, singing out all of the sorrow and heart she felt, alone, with no one there to see her. See her.

Her body huddled as far into itself as it could, and there seemed no retreating as everything else carried on around her, whirring so close that these shadow people almost knocked her over, and the lights of the imagined headlamps threatened to run her down.

The warrior was just a girl. She had no weapons. But she felt loss, and the scars on her body were just as real as she stood there in her shorts and t-shirt. Thighs and wrists revealed the battle that raged so hidden and silently in her twisted mind.

Her final moment had footsteps. Not her own, but another set she couldn’t hear past the beating drums and the words repeating over and over again in her headphones, in her brain. It was always rushing past her and leaving her in the depths of a darkness she could not fathom in these brumy pits of despair.

The girl was gone. She could not weep loudly, or openly, but hid behind her clawed hands and behind the scars. Behind the hard exterior as she broke down without warning.

A hand.

She felt it before she saw it, though it never touched her. Her eyes peeked out from behind her barrier, pale in the lights that blinded her. She was always blind to the world. Always.

The figure was a calm shadow, a respite from the judging lights and darks that screamed down at her to stop pretending, to stop dreaming. To stop living. It was quiet, and sad. And the music was unbearable.

She took the hand, and the lights were all gone. The dashing, the glaring, the flaring of her mind on the outside. Gone. She saw him. He saw her. And he helped her to her unsteady feet. It was a pause. It was a quiet.

“Pick up your shield”.

He nodded down at the dropped handbag on the ground, keeping her hand so tightly in his, she thought he might crush it. She thought that his voice might break with soft, worried tenderness.

She picked it up. Her shield. But really, as he pulled her to his chest, he was her shield. She smothered into it, silent tears and invisible cries muffled against it as she was held in those arms.

She saw him. And he saw her.

[Tonight. You just close your eyes. And I just watch you. Slip away.How close am I. To losing you.

Hey? Are you awake. Yeah I’m right here. How can I ask you. About Today?

How close am I. To losing you. How close am I. To losin’.]

In the midst of uncertainty, without the lights of judgement baring down, they went home. Already in a separate world.

[POEM] In the simplest ways

I love you.
In the simplest ways.

The way a cat loves to bask in the sun,
And lather itself in bright joy.

The way coffee smells, that is how
I love you, sweet one.

The way my warmest jumper feels slid
Over my naked skin.

The way I curl into comfort is the way
I pour my love into you.

The way a smile talks, its taste on lips,
So ready to emit shine.

The way I hide from the world, it lends
Me to love you deeper.

I love you. Oh in the simplest of ways.
And I will keep loving you, as I find my
Safe spaces within you when my soul quails
From the darkness that hails from sky
And earth, relentless and cruel and nothing
Like your warmth. So soft, and noting
Each of my intricacies intimately. Perfectly.

I love you in the simplest of ways.

And I will simply keep on loving you.

[POEM] You are wonder

I love you, my flickering star, so full of doubt that you let the universe dictate your shine.
So fresh & new despite your dusted age.
Twinkle on uncertainly, & I will watch.
I will watch, & wait for the clash of brilliance you will one day become.
With warmth, and without hesitation, you will out shine all that surrounds you, bringing your sunlight without hesitation, realizing that you are not the judgement of the world around you, but that you are the world.

You are not the criticisms in your mind, you are more than the sum of your doubts.

You are Light and Wonder incarnate. You are life giving brightness. You are my gravity, to which I cling to gladly.

You are my sunshine.