Assistance, then incapable

Wait, until this moment passes.
Captured in the heart.
Recorded now on my eyelids. The breaking waves of departure.
Moved out of London clay.
Planting me like an orchid into new surroundings.
You can lay tinsel over this new arrangement.
Speak to me in tones only my father would use.
Who my mother would marry, and then regret each day.
But the song has faded, and the spirit died like the Christmas tree of 97’.
I was the fruits of you conquest. That excruciating co-dependence.
Who was I to know that underneath you longed to devour.
This air I breathed. Or the words that caught in my throat.
Choked into a scene, a tableau of trauma that now hangs above my bed.
I was never awake as you were, in those days where we went from lovers;
to instant separation.
How supportive were those bruises on my heart.
Those creaking words of concern that masked the dictation.
You made me that child again, under my father’s fist.
Counting the seconds between shouts like the thunder between lightening.
Those storming days of youth
Watching as the need for validation crumpled into the corner.
Where I used to hide.
And you leave me now, shaking and stateless.
Yearning once more for the glance back over your shoulder.
Banished into my hypersensitivity.
Unresolved problems like a manic in-between poles.
Wondering if forgiveness is a pill I can swallow and no longer choke upon.
Hoping tomorrow still brings the sun.

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Restless perfection

Sometimes the flowers bloom in winter.
And never enough, is never quite enough.
I pull down the moon, and you beg for the stars.
As the diamond ocean laps at our feet.
To dig into our world for precious stones;
is the least I can do.
Perfect. Like thoughts of mother earth.
Your hand in mine for eternity.
Your tears are butterflies, set free on the wind.
Dancing beauty, little Chinese fans that flicker in the sunlight.
You are restless, you are wild.
Your pressure of commotion shakes the world into crimson.
Fervent reds, the dye of those who dream while wakened.
As the darkness flinches and the thunder clouds roll into nothing.
Your remarks on this day, and the marbled mayhem of your kingdom.
Slips into my heart.
Your words, soft on my cheeks like the happiness of my youth.
You are that Christmas present under the tree.
You are the tricycle I conquered.
The perfection of you never wavers. Never fades.
And never rest.
Always wanting more.

Salvaged in mid winter

I look for you, like a full moon rising.
Turning the tide on my sunken sullen state.
Each hour drips away, like a painting of regret.
Washed away in the fresh rains you bring to a crumbling soul.
You hold me carefully like a bruised apple.
The bloom of happiness spreading in my heart.
I hold your heart, like a precious artefact.
With tears that have now begun to retract.
Because of the light you shine on our patch of earth.
Those seeds sown in September, break through tough winter soil.
Finding new life from the Christmas lights that sparkle.
Dancing on the leaves, like frost in the morning.
Peppering our steps with a carpet of wonder.
This song will remain, and I will know its tune by heart.
Etched into these bones until time fades.
The harvest of hope in the winter cold.
A chance to dance once more into the future.
With you right by my side.

Instinct (feeling)

Illuminating, another dream. A waking life of happenstance.
Caught in your collapsing eyes, a scorched dream.
That empty coffee cup. That missed train.
Find me there.
Calling to you in a voice only God can hear.
The type of sound you can expect only at Christmas.
With choral tunes and awaiting disappointment.
Feelings. Stopped. Frozen for another time.
Frozen, in the summer rain that you hold me under.
I am the moth that flew back to the mountain.
The dragon under foot with a thorn in its side.
I am the love we had that fell into the ocean.
Lost forever in an indifferent tide.

Beautifully damaged

Don’t look back, breathe.
Keep your head above the water.
Isolate these moments of joy.
Encase them in glass forever and hang them for the world to see.
You and me.
Beautifully damage.
Teetering on the inevitable as we dance around the possible.
Your hand in mine, your bones locked into a heartbeat.
The tick, after tock of this borrowed time.
If the world ached and sighed, changing in a blink of an eye.
If a plane were to fall on us, from that jet black sky.
Would we exhale into regrets, or smile at all that had been?
Take this hand again, and follow me into the unknown.
Head held high like your mother taught you.
Eyes as beautiful as the day you were born.
Damaged and delighted at
being
here
now.

Coconut ice & candied eyed

These thoughts entertain me, for the hundredth time this week.
Dropping into my mind like pennies into a well.
I swing between actioned and complacent.
As you swing me back to forth in time.
This pendulum of your love.
Happy in the tinsel of us you deck me in.
Yet unrequited feelings of doubt then crawl in like a frost.
No doubt blossoming at Christmas time.
Fearful of the joy you offer.
Mindful of my usual self-destructiveness.
I cover you in cotton wool and hide you in the Christmas stocking.
Away from the mice and my thoughts of decay that would nibble away at you.
These hungry moths in my mind.
I swallow these feelings down.
Learning to live; not for tomorrow, but in the moment here with you.
Biting off only as much as I can chew.
As I wash away the taste of my usual foot.
Let me substitute for sweet candied swells.
Catching in my soul like coconut shavings.
Licking you clean of the sugar you must be covered in.
Savouring the delicious center of your love.

Fluorescent future

4am as the world whispers me awake.
All is calm, and the night travels in my veins still.
I slept the day away.
Rubbing the tiredness and memories from my eyes.
Half a world away, yet right where I started.
Right where I belong.
The veil is yet to be lifted form my shaded stay.
Talking to me still from the past in a language I slightly recognise.
Talks of entangled vines and harkening songs.
The red land beneath my feet.
Sticking to me like sand on wet skin.
Rub away these English oaks. This chitter of festivity.
Don’t lead me blind with your patriotic stories.
Colour me sunlit gold and let me sleep.
Crying into the night.
Drifting away on the tide.

Broken glass

As she entered the room, the door scrapped noisily back. ‘’Careful!…’’ I said. ‘’….there’s broken glass everywhere.’’ She looked down in the semi-darkness. Only the noise of the door echoed throughout the spacious room, all the earth was still. Littered across the floor were the remains of light bulbs, thousands of them lay strewn like casualties of some mass domestic crusade. Empty like Christmas carcases. ‘’I’m sorry for the mess, and subsequent darkness’’. I tried putting her at ease, but even in the quiet dark I knew what her eyes were saying and her head was thinking.

“It took me a long time to get here.’’ I added.  Again, I tried to lighten the atmosphere and add some normalcy to a most unusual situation. She didn’t speak, I never expected her to. CRUNCH as I heard her step across the glass. Slow at first, then with more pace and purpose. The glass was shattering further, broken pieces splintering more into something unfixable. I could smell her and the smoke, coughing quietly in my soul. The noise below her feet conjured the image in my head of a Giant stepping over long ago stripped bones. Did Jack ever escape?

‘’I’m sorry’’ I sighed out, starring down; I couldn’t face her still. Will I ever be able to? She held the moment, captured the silence and suspended the time forcing me to see what I had done. I started to cry. Throughout it all she remained silent. Her arm outstretched, I could see her hand. I held out mine and we touched. A blinding flash, only for a second and then a glow hung in the air. The room was a flutter of labels, descending and spiralling down. They mixed at random with the glass upon the floor. Thousands of them fell like snow, this early winter ensnared the two of us. They each bore two names, written in old script; nothing more. My name had been misspelled.