Why would you ever buy a second hand gate?
Fair enough if it was in decent condition..
But this one's bent, paint peeling to bare metal now rusted.
But you did..
Smothered in the smoothest Hammerite and hung proudly at your home.
It's still rusted underneath but at least someone is taking care of it.
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 7:10 PM UTC
Grey suit, Black sky,
Yellow socks, No tie,
Blue heart, White lies,
Orange flame, Red eyes.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 8:16 PM UTC
A cracked vase will hold flowers but not water to nurture.
As a broken man will hold lovers but not dare to love.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 9:53 PM UTC
Though her case was rather heavy, you'd never have guessed by looking at her carry it. Brown leather as I recall. I remember thinking that her maroonish poncho was chosen to complement the case. It was certainly not to cater for the weather. Rain. Something which hadn't been seen for at least four days by then. As you can imagine, she was not the only one who was fashionably unprepared. I myself was fortunate enough to have worn a hat.
Men with makeshift newspaper umbrellas cursed as they rumbled by with a diagonal posture of urgency. I suspect they were displeased to say the least. She however, seemed not to notice the rain. She stood on the platform as drop after drop it danced on her cheeks now red from the cold. She wore no make up from what I could tell. Perhaps a small amount. She was fantastically plain in appearance, not unattractive. But perfectly average. She seemed distracted. I briefly considered engaging in conversation with her but this idea was inconsiderately interrupted by the ever nearing whistle of the train that was due to cart us to Blackpool. Through the wet stripey air I could see the steam-cloud thin out and disappear to the heavens. As it approached she gave one last glance around at which point I made eye contact. She abliged me with a bashful smile and retreated her attention back to the train.
Setting her case down by her ankle for the first time since arriving on the platform. She took two steps, larger than her regular gait. and a third that would she her land but inches from the nose of the slowing train. I didn't scream. Or shout. To be honest I didn't know I had seen anything until the police came. Her case was filled with clothes, a hairbrush and a small mirror.
I got the next train with everyone else.
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 10:35 PM UTC
Help
Whimpered in whispers to a pillow with no ears or reason to care. Though I'd still ask.
Do you feel it?
I do.
Spontaneous but inevitable she comes. Just to remind me of my oils curdling in the depths to resurface. Vile but precious.
Again to no-one,
help.
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
He feels too much.
I don't worry when he's like this.
But when he becomes desensitised by it all..
Numb..
That's when I will be frightened.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
I've been acquainted with the lady in the blue dress.
More than once.
She's the tall, little blonde girl with the dark hair.
Standing by the bar you frequent when you have nowhere else to go.
She's pretty. Sometimes.
(Though it really need not matter)
You buy her a drink, hoping she'll exchange it for temporary lust.
A supplement for what you've lost.
I've been acquainted with the lady in the blue dress.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC
Give an infant a blank canvas and paints and watch him instantaneously dress the white square with sloppy lines of reds, blues and yellows.
Crossing each other in no logical sequence.
Mixing into awful shades of greens and browns.
But observe his face as he does so.
And you will see his face flushed with joy,
With every rush of the brush.
With no designated design in mind.
He loves to paint.
Give an adult a blank canvas and paints.
And the first thing he'll ask you is;
"What do you want me to paint?"
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
She never liked the way she looked in photographs.
But today even she felt as beautiful as she truly was.
Her new red laced dress looked as though it was only ever intended for her body.
Across the room through my vignetted gaze, our eyes met.
She offered a bashful smile through her lipstick and retreated her soft brown eyes to the floor.
In a fantasy I had hoped she would be charming and witty.
That we could relate in humour and music.
I'd never have the nerve to find out.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC