If I could wait a thousand years,
or even a thousand more,
I’d sit peacefully in this garden,
the home that I adore.
When sweet evening trees
brushed tree top tips,
and we sat on the trampoline
spitting watermelon pips.
And the roses curled tight
like a hug around the home,
golden like a sunset
and lilac like my bones.
They were pink along my cheeks
and whiter than the walls,
twisting leaves and viscous thorns
mimicked our front door.
The colour of the mint on the steps
and the swing in the big ash tree,
and the shaking in my heart
which was always meant to be.
So I’m standing in this garden
and I’m feeling way too old,
the roses now are dying,

I feel so very cold.

Colder than the soil
where pets have gone to sleep,
where buds spring up
and spring prepares to leap.
And the sun is bright and warm
but I’m not really there,
the gate is closed,

locked and stolen,

I think I’m getting scared.

I think of the pearl bright Moon
and the bright warm Sun,
a thousand stars between
and a distance even further.
I think of soulmates
torn apart by cruel fates,
Mother Nature's gentle soul,
her heart hardened by sin.
And the push and pull of tides,
endless, timeless,
rolling over the sinking sand,
murmuring and roaring a time old tale.
Of how two souls loved each other
so strong and true
that they tried to steal each other the world,
and how their punishment
was to watch the world die.
I think of how they're stuck there
an eternity apart,
separated by sea,
sky,
land,
and how every night,
sinking to the bottom of soft seas,
the Sun dies
so the Moon breathes.

I think I remember
the first time I lost control,
no longer that perfect child,
that good little girl.
I was hurricane winds,
lashing limbs,
shattered glass and ruined nails.
I was bitter sneers,
malice with a deep red,
burying shades of blue.

I bled purple,
purple of indigo nights and violet bruises,
violet bruises and violent bruises.
The first time I lost control
wasn't as a child it was when I was alone,
and that hated mirror finally cracked,
distortion free to extort me
of my fears, my loves, my laughs,
of my fear of losing control
and never being whole again.

Tether me to the sea,
with chain and link,
leave me be,
my darling, my sweetheart,
then you'll see,
with a seashell heart,
in this evergreen,
my love, my soul,
it's all I need,
floating, freely,
in this perfect sea.

Her tiger stripes started,
at the crease of her elbow,
and flowed down to her wrist,
in blood carved waves.
Light marks stark,
against dark skin,
they wrote a story,
in curved and brutal staves.
She was a tiger striped girl,
made of sharp smiles, bright eyes,
and when tiger stripes reached her fingertips,
she chose to leave this place.

Crystal seas and Christmas trees,
sand between my toes,
fairy lights, chocolate bites,
the smell of summer in my nose.
Feathers and shells,
delicate and bright,
this fast spinning earth,
and stars so bright,
and bubbling laughter,
beneath the big red sun,
days of tears and
days of fun
and-
days where nothing,
absolutely nothing,
has ever felt so right,
as the living days,
breathing days,
that feel so warm and bright.

If I were a food
I suppose I'd be bitter sweet,
an outside of barley sugar,
an inside of rotting meat.
I pretend I am the sun,
playful, bright, and new,
by the nights end I'm done,
my skin a deathly hue.
I'll wither in the orchard
like those jewel bright fruits,
cut the tree, dig it up,
I'm dead to the root.