I’ve decided to accept I’m lonely.
Perhaps I’ll learn to be happy alone.

In time, I’ll pick the duets at karaoke night,
I’ll sign up for a couples massage,
Watching the notebook will become an activity for one.

Is it possible that solitude is a blessing?
Independence is a virtue.
Your rejection is my growth.

Am I all too optimistic,
Is it manifesting to delusion.

I suppose I wouldn’t know,
The thing about delusion,
Is that it takes someone close to point it out.
And being alone,
Means I don’t have that someone.

When I’m feeling lonely
I rewatch old movies
So that at least
I’m in the company,
Of the memory, of
My younger self.

Some days it feels like I’m only living so I don’t hurt the ones I love,
So I really need you to tell me that you
Love me.

The day you dilly dallied by the ponds and the fields,
Did you wonder what conditions dared to give yield,
To the daisy. Rouge yet worn.
Did you wonder her past, did you question her scorn?
Or did you stop at her face.
Ignoring her history of disgrace.
Then did you embrace the rain,
and foster her pain?
And did you relish in the days of sun.
The days she grew and prospered in calm.

And if you discovered
She was both water and sun
Would you stay and nurture her,
or would you quit and run.
And if you could stay,
Would you abandon the root,
Forget of the seed,
Pluck out the daisy,
Ane let her be freed.

You tore my heart out of my chest.
Nails clawed, teeth bared.
My haunting demon.
Your tongue has a flair for judgement,
You eyes for shame.
You bat your wings and fly above.
Do you enjoy looking down at me ?
Suddenly I’m small,
Suddenly you can’t see me anymore.
I’m gone.

But I thought friends are meant to
Last forever ?

Poetry is a curious thing.

It’s a code far greater than the enigma.
For I can be a feline, a flower or a breeze.
And no one would know.

It’s about straying as far from sane
As possible.
Learning to understand  yourself whilst leaving others baffled.

The cheapest therapy I’ve found.

A poet is a mad man, a romantic, a philosopher.
I am all,
And none.

What I’ve finally come to understand,
Is that the beauty of poetry,
Is that it cannot,
be understood.

It’s not that I care about him,
Or that I liked him, at all.
It’s just that,
When he didn’t love me,
He made me feel unlovable.

I am certain you don't know
just how much I hate you.
I am certain you would never guess
of the nights spent
cursing your name.

When I face you I laugh and smile.
But as your back turns that laughter
turn to bile.
As your back turns,
I remember you weren't there.
As your back turns
I understand how little
you really care.

So **** the man that make me
so hateful.

I do believe that mother’s love
Was modelled after you.
It is the only way,
Your love could be so true.

For I have never witnessed a
Love with such little hesitation,
Shampoo in the eye,
A cut on the knee,
Mother is at my station.

And my home is always carried with you,
With the memories of your voice,
Singing lullabies and soothing my blues.
And with the smell of borrowed clothes and
Everlasting perfume.

I’m desperate to thank you, mother,
For all that you do
And have done.
And in my journey to show gratitude,
I have only just begun.

butterflies aside,
there is beauty ahead.
cozy reconnection,
combat boots treading season-old-trodden paths,
baby, let’s rekindle by that kindling fire
and over coffee,
accents of cinnamon and pumpkin
how warm.
those inferno tones,
breeze biting at
cream sherpa that won’t relent.
it might not glisten
or present with port-side flavours of ice cream,
but there is beauty ahead.

I’m the girl who smiles.
The one you greets you with warm eyes,
Asks you how you are,
Hopes that you go far.

But my heart is heavy.
Weighted by the anger that I bottle.
There’s so much of it,
Too much.
I’m going to burst soon,
Very soon.
I’ll be the villain who used
To smile.

I feel a some sort of grand calling,
Of its colour or shape, I am unsure.
It is too loud,
I cannot hear it.

This flavour of beckoning,
I fear I must start to run

the pitter patter of your voice
you speak sweet nothings
it's just noise.

Dry weeds look like savanna grasslands

hop off that tractor, sir,
Who are you?

I am but a kicking body
In a body of swimmers

I’m so tired of hating myself.

He turned me and said, 'I like the way you make me see the world'

I’m terrified of myself.
Of what I don’t understand,
Of the darker voice getting too loud.
I don’t know what she’ll do,
I don’t know if I’m strong enough to
Stop her.

You’re bigoted and ignorant.
Racist and inhumane.

And yet I must step on egg shells ?!!!

Your brains are scrambled fool

The urge to run away to a
green, open field,
Is always stronger on Sundays.

It’s exhausting.  
To have laboured,
To have fought,
To have clawed your way
With hands and feet
out of ‘that’ place.

Just to fall back
to where you started.

He told me then that he hated poetry.
thought it useless and indirect.

And then I knew
He is not mine

For all I am is poetry

We’re lost in stalemate.

What lies behind the
Lies that
She told
That she looked
Both ways

There are times where I feel guilt for living
Because so many have been chosen by men wielding death.
I bleed for them
And turn the knife on myself
But I can’t bleed for much longer.
I cannot choke for much longer.
I am living and must live.
I will try to love and laugh and dance
so that I might parcel up this love,
And send it in thoughts
In ancestry and bloodlines
In life.
To you.

I crave anonymity.
In order to be able to say what I truly mean.
With no boundaries,
No judgement.
Because I truly, truly
Want to scream.

I’m aware it’s my fault we’re here.
I led you on, I broke your heart.

But I hate you for making me hate myself.
I hate you for reminding me of everything I lost.
I hate you for making me miss the way you made me feel.

I miss you,
I don’t hate you at all.

I listen to sad songs
because ordinary words don't feel the same.
I search for lyrics that summarise that feeling perfectly,
scratch the itch that can't be itched.
I'm jealous when they get it right in
ways I haven't been able to.

I’m in paradise.
The sea is aquamarine, a beautiful blue.
The sky is clear, not a cloud in sight.
Birds chirping to a melody, they form a choir.
And yet,
I can’t seem to relax.
I can’t seem to enjoy myself.
I can’t seem to stop myself from crying.
Perhaps if the sea were murky and dark,
If the sky was cotton-filled,
If the birds were in dissonance,
I wouldn’t feel so guilty.

How many masterpieces
does it take
to make a poet?

Wonder's got me counting.

The way you’re talking,
I feel like I’m going bankrupt.

In these moments we called fate,
Well, stars aligned and
We found ourselves on
Opposite sides.

Border, bridge,
My fair lady.

when I'm telling you i love you
i'll say that grass in drought is green
that Thames water is clean
my 50p coin
it glistens
it gleams

Hating myself because
I can't make you love me.

Cannibal
You scorn me.

Cannibal
You’ve torn me.

Cannibal
Take the pain
Claim what you’ve won
I don't want it anymore

I’m grateful.
For your sacrifice.
For years spent at your desk,
Blood pressure high,
Trade pending.
For years spent providing,
Giving, and never spending.

But I wish you had spent,
Just a little more time
Present. Here with us.
Because at home, you were there,
Phone on. Trade still pending.

I wish we had conversations,
Not interrogations,
About life, about my day, about my opinions, or what I have to say.
About films, my interpretation,
About school, my life’s destination.

With you there is no in-between.
It’s figure of authority,
Or you begin to act like a teen.
Keen to make me uncomfortable.

Around you, I rarely feel comfortable.

Have you ever seen the look
someone gives you
when the get a peek of your darkness.
My Darkness is kept, deep,
this doesn't happen often.
But when it does,
it's enough to make me afraid of
Myself.

when did I become so afraid to Feel?

It seems as though you
Jump, at the opportunity to
Show me you hate me.
I sense truth in your jokes,
In your banter.
In the way you switch to oppose me
So so quickly.

I never thought you liked me.
I’m just searching for confirmation
Of it.

i don't know how to spell existence.

I’m tired of forgiving.
I’m tired of seeing from their perspective.
I’m tired of letting it go.
I’m tired of telling them it’s ok when it’s not.
I’m tired of having to remember everything I’ve allowed them to do.
I’m tired of being the kind, supportive friend.

I’m so **** tired, I’m becoming
Angry.

May I teach a course,
So people can learn to love like I do.
Perhaps they will understand how to support.
To feel deeply,
To know
Without explanation.
I’m left in a state of narcissism
Because I have yet to find someone,
Who feels as I do.
I’m Left longing to duplicate myself,
For I long to be understood,
known
supported.
I need it more than you.

But,
At least I’m evolving.

I don’t like you.
Not the things you do.
Or say.
Not the way you smile,
Or the times you choose to laugh.
Worst of all when you scream.
You’re my blood,
But you pollute me.
I never want to be you.
I never want to need you.
I hate you.

I know you.
Your loves, likes, nerves, sensitivities.
I've heard every story you have to tell.
I've heard you tell them hundreds of times.

You laugh at the same moments,
Use the same phrases.
I've heard them so often I'd be able to tell them myself.

But,
One day,
I might not know you.

I may be the last to hear your stories,
and won't be able to predict your laugh.
Your phrases may be foreign.
And characters and settings will need describing.

I may not be your lifelong companion.
I might not want to be.
And maybe that's ok.

Maybe I'll be a fresh pair of ears
To listen to your new,
Practice-perfected stories.