Lonely nights offer moments of silence

and one dish suppers where candlelight seems a waste

Seated with pen in hand, I smooth the ruffles beneath

as if that will help the words flow



Upon closer inspection I find

heart shaped patterns on the dining room tablecloth

mimic the movements of my hand,

layered one atop another, calling on each to oblige



Crossing lines, intersecting at pre-destined points,

repeating in harmony with one another

as my thoughts gather in the tiny squares

of this colored graph paper staring at me, waiting



Moving in sync with butterfly curves on the corners

and scribbled etchings along borders,

fantasies of a mind in a dream state

swirl, touching each box of this formatted design



Folds neatly collect the shapes of spilled ink

seeping slowly through the cloth

like raindrops on a leaf following the veins

in an abstract yet confined flow



To the blurred eye sits nonsense,

a collection of nothing on a vast white sheet

dancing like uneven feet on a rounded floor

of no particular meaning or feature



Yet to me, my penned innocence calls loudly,

even in the darkness of lost words, these patterns,

as is everything found filling me is you…

and my pen pleads in heart shaped longings

The rose lies, carefully placed next to his name.
His eldest son has just turned five and doesn't know he's buried there,
among many other faceless graves.
The soft glow of a candle, lit over his last letter.
She holds it close, his warmth she craves.
His last words, only written to ease the suffering
merely prolong the pain:
"I'll love you, always."
Twenty-one when he left,
cold and breathless when he returned;
wearing an expression pleading to be spared from the
tragedies already occurred.
Sleeping restlessly in a coffin, he died in combat -
a knife to the waist, legs severely burned.
So as not to wake the children she sits and attempts to calm herself; grabbing a pen and paper to write one last letter back to him:
"They taught you ******* and not care, how to
mercilessly end what you couldn't possibly understand.
You learnt to block out the dying screams as you also
silenced your own fears. You thought you were freely giving
part of yourself, while they crept in,
silently like a cancer; they took
everything from you my dear."

Something inside me
Instantly falls apart and
An ache is all that's left when
The sharp edges of each fragment
Lie scattered, puncturing
Near organs in their
Beautiful array of
Brokenness

The grey clouds shift and swirl above my head,
slowly, almost imperceptibly getting darker;
as if anger has forced a flush of colour to their cheeks.
I crane my neck, searching for the transformation
of anger to grief; for the tears to pour out,
to rain down on those of us below that don't mind
being a shoulder to lean on.

(C) 23/6/14
Courtney L

I didn't consider it a disorder;
the seasons seem to affect most,
and what I thought, perhaps,
kept me down wasn't the
absence of the sun, see -
I thought the waves lapped in
my mind to drown me.
I succumbed to the consistency
of submerging tides that felt
physically deeper in the shallows.
I suppose I didn't understand
the darkening effect of night, see -
it doesn't wrap the earth in
deep shades of violet, it encases
my head in deep scarlet emotions
and they paralyse me.

(C) 6/4/15
Courtney L