when you go to that lane
where the houses are graves
their rooms only pain
shadows' dark waves

where winds pause morose
light is barred
closed doors and windows
keep sunshine debarred

where walls are deadened
reeking of moss
the way is a dead end
weighed with cross

you would meet a hollow face
covered in hood
who would ask *all these days
you did what good.

I can't
promise
to fix
all of your
problems
but i can
promise
you won't face
them alone!!

How am I still holding on?
Wasting my time
When I know you've gone

I still drift back to younger days
I wasted my time over you
I tried to understand, I failed

You stayed with me up until I realised,
you were gone.
You were never mine.

I saw you the other day
I was sat in a café people watching
I saw you, I watched you.

I ached for you, for me, for the past
For regrets, missed opportunities, failed declarations
Realisation that together we were friends, almost more.

In a crowd we were separate beings
Societal dictats stood in place, never to be questioned.
I watched you in the crowd from the café

Watched you looking my way
Steam from my latte bringing a haze to my eyes
Oh how many nights I cried for you.

Wanting you, needing you,
hurting inside for you, denying others "just in case"
You denied me then I deny you now.

Stay in the locked box deep in my soul
Memories in a woman's heart
can never be stolen or forgotten.

I left the café with an ache
Turned the corner, felt your stare
Then, saw my husband standing there.

To him I moved my wheelchair forward
To him I kissed my ache away
To him I will always stay

I turned for a final glance
Looked at you standing in the drizzle
You stared not at me, but the chair.

Realisation shone on your face
Confusion clouded those eyes
I am her, but not now.

Your height, your hair, your brown eyed stare
You're all that I remembered and more.
21 years have spun away, as did I that day.

I want to write your words on my skin
So that they can be fully absorbed
And with me forever.

I dreamt of slow-dancing
and we waltzed until I woke
Hazy scent of desires unspoke
I, mangled with your absence,
breathe a mere thought of
reality's biting grip and rip
the blanket from my bones
Naked and exposed, more
vulnerable and assured
than ever to disclose
those tender tickles
I feel when in repose,
visceral and verbose
I spew black for it's
pronounced and bold
amplifying the dark hold
melted to my frame
Bursting free, finally
with a pounding chest,
primary shades to express,
and fear tentatively at rest
Your hand in mine gives
a soft and slow caress
and I exhale our dance
of coalesce.

What could be worse
Than a garden
Full of gnomes and trolls?
Is it:
Lawn jockeys and yardells;
Chuck adjusting his carb every Sunday afternoon;
Bathtub ****** Marys beseaching us to love;
Metal flowers on outside garage walls;
Fish ponds with gills in the filter;
Red gravel flowerbeds with little white fences;
Cosmetic door knockers;
Swimming pools without diving boards;
Mirrors on fences;
Burning ******* in fire pits;
Backyard landfills;
Icicle lights;
Weedy neighbours and an east wind;
The screech of tires;
The thump of metal;
The sound of screaming;
The absence?

Yeah. Plenty could be worse.

on altars of make believe
because I witness suffering
even when I was addicted to self imposing
pain
I felt
the total craziness of religion:
179 die and one gets a miracle and survives.
Like the other 179 were ****.
I used to be addicted to me
and then one day how much higher I got
lifting or helping another.
It was no saviour or religion that brought me striving
out from the dungeon I was in.
It was the seed of empathy I had hidden.

For a second the world was silenced and freedom mourned.