She lies to the world that the five percent is all there is to sea,
but she wanted him to feel the depths deeper than there was to see.
She needed him to anchor and not let her slip like the sand through finger,
She needed a love that left an everlasting effect linger.

He stepped on the same grounds,
Looking for a love that saved him from his drown.
On the outside he was tough as steel,
Deep inside he could no longer feel.
He hummed songs from the spirited waves,
Drove deep into them to rescue her from coral caves.

He was the Persian Gulf and she was an Indian Ocean,
Yet they breathe salty summer air and gaze at the same clouds in motion.
She flew the skies, wondering if she lost him behind a floating cloud,
And went into places, she knew she wouldn’t be allowed.
Meeting him would be a miracle she thought,
Her chances were drying out faster than water during a drought.

There she stood at the Arabian Gulf in the warm sea breeze,
There was something about her that put his heart at ease.
Breathing the raw summer air,
Locked in his view paralysed by the depths she saw in his stare.

He lifted an empty shell and poured the ocean in,
His charms travel pore to pore and loving him felt like a sin.
Her eyes had storms that were painted in grey and silver,
Knowing she felt the dagger, his love would **** her.

Souls collapsed in a darkness that blanketed the starless sky,
Giving up on humans that sold us life’s biggest lie.
Everyone loved exploring the sun when it was out,
but when darkness settled in, their minds grew in doubt;
No one wants to swim the waves, when jaws came out to play.
Everyone falls in love with rainbows,
we are all colourblind that’s the way love goes.
Love left her once but she’d imagine it over and over again,
contaminated her brood and they declared her insane.
She scribbled a few tattoos that symbolised the love she has tasted,
but they only spoke half the story of her love gone wasted.
Dead clouds painted on a wall at night,
she illuminated flaws in the daylight.
Her darkness was worth exploring,
her tear-tainted eyes daren’t ignoring.
They spoke of her in past tense,
she wrote blurred lines in all defence.
With dry cheeks in the summer sun,
she cried blood until there was none.
Little cotton puffs painted in silver outline,
she smudged colours onto clouds that died in a line.
How it played out in real life versus how it danced in her head,
her love would never return back from the dead.

love is not blind it sees more and not less but because it sees more it wants to hear less

Muse hasn’t left my bedside for days:
         she races around
         the garden when I sleep:
                            it’s the only time she leaves,
                            she’s so loyal.
A few days ago, I heard Muse barking
         in the garden;
         I knew she’d seen the woodpecker again.
                       I’ve learnt the differences in her voice:
this is what comes of weeks bedbound.
But when the sedatives wear off
         I can do more than lie there:
                       I can feel the touch from my grandma,
                       I can smell last night’s family supper,
                                    I’m lucid.
Yesterday, the electroconvulsive therapy shocked my brain
                       today, my muscles feel as knotted
                                    as my oesophagus.
I’m on my back now; my only company
         is the ceiling; not even
                        the canopy of stars I once gazed at with joy.
                                      
© Sia Jane

older.

(not elder)

still.

older.

my kingdom
for your kiss.