t’was war as we knew it

a thousand fears in a jar

labelled ‘eau de thè’

a cloud blown over our heads by no man's wind

and still turned the world that we knew

and all that you were

your wrist

tossing a thousand pancakes

your lips

blowing a thousand kisses in a row

your nights

holding my silhouette

amongst a thousand faces

I have no more use for this shield

or this sword

whoever gave them to me

can take them back

I hold myself hostage to

a thousand years of peace

mon chouchou

I'll be drinking onion soup

from our mug, every morning

a thousand years from now

or

until we meet again

do you follow rainbows to the end of the road
and pretend they end with a screech of the breaks
or perhaps you miss the train and convince yourself that
you were on the wrong platform or you were there just
waving someone goodbye
do you receive flowers from people you never loved
and your ‘thank you’ is the discorded key of a piano
in the middle of a concert
do you make someone cry and comforting them is a trembling hand
a surgeon never shows the world
do you etcetera your list of to do’s into a painted oblivion
and never ever want to admit
that your blues are not just a shade of angry skies
do you talk too much so you can never hear
the voice of your loneliness
bouncing of the walls of your room
in a ping pong motion
do you read tones of recommended books
to help you catch another day
while tomorrow comes and discards you into yesterday
without a word of apology
do you stumble across true love and wish you broke a leg
rather than a heart

do you think this poem is nothing to do with you