Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I feel much heavier these days
I sleep a lot, and I paint with browns
Light ochre and soft greys
You tell me that's what you've noticed, anyway.
I forget to do my nails, and leave my hair up
Let it grow out and longer than it suits me.
Sometimes you tell me things have changed and tightly hold my hands -
I laugh and pretend I don't understand.
I used to read a lot, read to you -
Anything I found, poetry and song lyrics
And books I'd bought, or old ones that i'd suddenly see anew
when I'm seeing you,
over the top of the pages
Sitting opposite me crossed legged
Mimicking my voice
Laughing till we're both lightheaded.
Years ago you used to replace the flowers in my bedroom every morning
I told you to stop and that lilies were getting boring.
Today I got up extra early and painted my nails fuschia-pink
And cut big handfuls of daisies for the vase above the kitchen sink
When you came down from bed I looked at you over the pages of my book and said
"Remember this?
I wanted to take my letters back
Unravel the words I'd left
Draped around your neck.
The only time
That I can say
In all honesty

That I was sure
That I was happy
That I was home

Was when she glanced to the side
And it was me
That she was looking for.

There's no coming back
From that love.
Blue orbs of blue
eyes of oceans
eyes of skies
eyes of winter
eyes of ice

Green orbs of green
eyes of grass
eyes of lime
eyes of moss
eyes of thyme

Brown orbs of brown
eyes of chocolate
eyes of rust
eyes of tree-roots
eyes of dust
it was hard not to notice
her suffocating stance
eliminating life
from breath

stark contrasts clashed
chemist stench rife
clawed nails fought
with burnt electric hair

face caked with
false promise
rude lips bled
in twisted shapes

mismatched words
shot giddily from
handgun mind
long since spent

guests' amused disdain
stilled at sharp madness
flashes of veined sclera
screamed woe

signatures etched on
death warrants
coffin lids
clamped shut

wild assertions
rank religious fervor
vomited about
a hushed room

charity's stretched
compassion quit
in rush to regain
a summer's peace

efforts to impress
stabbed coarsely
dense air strangled
rational thought

guilty images beset
tortured space
noxious noise
begging revolt

yet collective dagger
falls aside mute
lest honour
too is lost

as raucous gasps fail
to impress
with anything
less than

dreams
of a quiet book
easily wooed
by a silent stream
musings of a fictional, failed 'blind date' sparked by an odious social experience - but the writing style itself inspired by NB's fascinating poetry
Always faithful,
Always giving.
This treasure with a
Canine heart
Darling,
I know you are scared to **** your garden
Because you are afraid it will look too bare
But those pretty flowers you crave need space to grow
So even if it takes you a lifetime
Pull the weeds
Disturb the earth
Plant new seeds
Next page