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Monthly Archives: April 2013

The public place,
Your jigsaw face,
The tears you try to hide.
The callous stares
From perfect pairs
Of eyes that harshly spied.
I wish they see
What I can see
When my eyes meet your face,
The girl with smiles
That stretch for miles
Who married me in lace.
The girl who sings
Of happy things
Who did until the crash.
When all we knew
Was flashing blue,
And nothing more than ash.
But still I stand,
I take your hand,
We break free from those bars
I’ll never go
Or sink so low
I love you and your scars.


The sky has finally won its battle
Against the misty sickness
And frosty infection
That strikes her every year.
Friends, unseen for many moons,
Emerge with heavy eyelids.
A new generation of ecology
Takes its first steps into an unforgiving world,
Fluttering, crawling, slithering, paddling.
Just growing.
And a hemisphere that seemed to be in suspended animation
Begins to burst to life once more.

I knew it was time.
I knew it was time,
From the moment you looked silently up into my eyes,
Enough, you said.
Stop this now.
Counting your final minutes.
Waiting for the time to leave.
Minutes passed.
I loaded you gently into the car,
One final time.
You knew.
The cries and wails that usually pierced through my eardrums
And my heart,
Were silent.
But that silence cut me deeper than the cries ever could.
As I looked into your eyes
And watched the light fade from them,
I felt you saying,
Thank you.
I now know the truth:
Sometimes the right choices
Are the hardest and most painful to make.

I know every inch of you.
I spent my youth racing around in your veins,
I heard the echoes of your previous days.
There are scars on your face,
Scratched on by parasites, desperate
To leave their mark.
There are tales,
Tales of your past,
So heavily embroidered upon,
No one knows the truth anymore.
Except you.
But I find you keep such secrets to yourself.
Yet as I trace your veins once more,
In the early hours, before the world awakens,
I see the shadows of those secrets,
Still bound to walk my way.
They do not sense me,
For how how can you sense that
Which does not yet exist?

The worst part is,
I see your pain.
I see those mornings on your train,
Excusing tears that fall on cheeks,
You blame it on the rain.

The worst part is,
I hear you cry.
At night you lay awake and sigh
Weeping, sobbing for a son
That never said goodbye.

The worst part is,
You pray for me,
That I may move on finally,
It hasn’t happened, here I stay,
Forever here to be.

The worst part is,
Your strength is sapped,
Although your future isn’t mapped,
You remain and so do I,
Forever here, I’m trapped.

Sheets shift.
You thrash wildly in hot, sweat-drenched linen,
Sloshed in a tempestuous, tormenting ocean.
Your inward screaming is merely outward whimpering.
Predators glide towards you, mercilessly, eyes of ice staring, freezing you.
You beg for rescue.
You beg for absolution.
You beg for anyone to come to your aid.
Suddenly you realise that when you are trapped in your mind,
The only person who can save you
Is yourself.
The sea calms,
The sky clears,
The predators slip away.
You are free
To simply be, to drift.

To love another completely is a dangerous act.
But a beautiful one.
In handing over the keys to your heart,
In whatever form they may take,
You give that other soul a dark power.
It is the power
To unravel,
To destroy,
To crush,
To burn,
To annihilate,
To simply end.
But in doing so,
You put your complete trust in them,
In the vain hope
That they will resist the temptation to do so.

Save yourself.
Don’t open me.
Don’t run your fingers down my spine
And breathe in the scent of my faded yellow pages.
Don’t dive headfirst into the depths of me.
Don’t listen to me so intently that you allow me to drown out your heartbeat.
If you do, don’t blame me for your addiction.
For mine is a world from which you will not wish to return.
Gone, the land of the nurse, the accountant, the office drone;
Here is the land of the hero, the princess, the villain,
Leaving memories etched, remaining long after you put me down.
In the future,
Something will catch your eye and remind you of me.
You will stop to recall my whispered words.
The words that told you to go out and live your own story.
When you finish, let others live the sequel.

Gnarled fingers twisting upwards,
My frame is strong, but brittle.
I have seen centuries pass,
Each leaving its scar on the landscape,
The actions of few destroy the existence of many,
And the children who sat upon me sing no more.
I have watched as my friends have fallen,
Through rotted bodies, or untimely swipes from the Reaper’s scythe.
Still I stand, tall and proud, until fate comes for me,
And there shall be nothing left but a wooden monument,
To mark where I once stood.

They open.
Slowly at first,
The light is blinding.
The mind is far away,
In lands of nonexistence, still loved.
Sheets shift, as desert sands so distant.
Sit up, the room spinning like a planet.
Arrange your thoughts, who are you? Where are you?
This time, this place, but wait, what is that sound?
Shattering this silence, so brutally, so suddenly, so painfully.
The jolt of adrenaline, all clicks into place.
The fumbling hands attempting to smother it.
Why? Why now? Why not later?
Wrenching me from bewildered peace.
A sharp exhale. Sigh.
Stand up now,
Stretching, zombie.