I sit at the edge of my bed,
White stocking covered feet
Swaying without breaking a beat,
You laugh and tell me, "no more, sweetie"
I give a smile but continue in denial
In denial that this is a fantasy I created after a while.
After months of late night calls and whispered sins
Months of laughter and cocained induced spins
It was when the truth slipped my lips that fantasies and dreams were locked away.
I laid in my cold bed, staring through a screen.
Your jaw tightened and my eyes fluttered closed.
Moments before we had laughed about our fantasies and I dreamed of a alternative life.
I even said, dreams don't come true and you neither denied it or agreed.
You enjoyed the thought of holding me and brushing your fingers over my skin.
I now enjoy the thought, alone in cold sheets of being loved again.
I messaged you in silent fear, will you ever come near?
Near to what we use to be,
Near to laughter and calling me your little Ducky?
You say you are torn, hurt and distressed.
One little Lie and I have to pull up my dress.
I cover my body and bow my head,
My Love, I am nothing but dead.
You don't know it now but I can see,
A day or so you will forget about me.
Fantasy will be locked behind a door,
Dreams have turned to nightmares since you aren't here anymore.
I wish I could have kept quiet,
But silence isn't my strong suit.
I wish you were dumber, after your nose is abused,
But instead you remain sharp and count the years until I can down a *****.
I sit on the edge of my bed,
Bare feet swaying.
My eyes are glued to the bare stop I wish you were kneeling.
I part my lips to return a sassy response when I remembered;
Fantasies don't become reality.

I followed the leaf-strewn path once more
Where it hugged the cemetery wall,
And made my way through the sandstone gap
Where the howl of the wind was stalled,
While snow still covered the sacred ground
And piled by each headstone lay,
Obscured the lettering, so profound
Of a love, now taken away.

And some of the headstones, cracked and worn
Cried out in their pure neglect,
Where were the ones their love had sworn
Who’d never visited yet?
But then a headstone, polished and new
With a name fresh cut in the stone,
I knelt in awe as my wonder grew
That beauty returned to bone.

My tears were frozen on either cheek,
The frost on my forehead lay,
If she could see from her reverie
She’d see that my face was grey,
But nothing stirred on that tiny mound
That covered her form below,
The wind that howled was the only sound
And I thought it told me to go.

‘Get up and leave, you can only grieve
In this garden of dead desire,
Love in this place may only deceive
It’s as dead as the ash in a fire.’
Sadly I placed the poem I wrote
For the girl, in case she’d need it,
Under a rock by the headstone there
In the hopes that Death might read it.

David Lewis Paget

you travel far
to hide
from my eyes
but
will pop-up
in your mind window
to raise  heartbeat..

I feel like an alien in my own skin again
The overwhelming urge to leave my body radiates through me like an anxious tremor
I try to convey my angst to those around
But it seems my words are unable to articulate my all consuming yearning
The desire for some reassurance is annihilated by blank stares and misconstrued words against fragile egos drowned in self absorption
It's pure agony
Please tell me that someday it will all be okay
That I will align with a purpose and feel a tranquil sense of fulfillment
Instead of this incessant energy running rampant throughout my tiny frame
Surely I'm bound to spontaneously combust
For I fear the profound is churning rapidly without any hope of release
And it's only a matter of time until I burst within the darkness.

You don't hear me when i say, mom, please wake up, dad's with a ****, and your son is smoking cannabis.

No one ever listens this wallpaper glistens don't let them see what goes down in the kitchen.

Places places get in your places theow on your dress and pur on your dollfaces

everyone thinks that we're perfect please don't let them look through the curtains.

Picture, picture smile for the picture
Pose with your brother won't you be a good sister.

everyone thinks that we're perfect please don't let them look through the curtains