He flipped the pages
one after another
his curious fingers
tracing each syllable
of her untold story,
the deeper he dived
in her mystic maze
his fingers were smudged
with ink and her tears
the words were stripped
her soul was bare
and he fell in love
with her cryptic layers

This stillness at dusk, its radiant heat;
The comfort from the soil beneath one's feet;

Dimming light's playful shadows sweet
Which shift and dance and oft' repeat.

Filled to the brim, I am a soul lifted up.
Thus, I rise like a drinking cup.

You, oh Day, have comforted completely
As another page turns in this life sweetly.

This  journey you begin
going through life
Is a day by day one.
Life never takes a pause
until the end.
Never go to bed angry.
Don’t leave with regret.
You never know when it ends.



Shell✨🐚

it’s afternoons like this that make me reminisce,
of sunshine beaches and cigarette smoke,
and the fact we almost kissed,
it’s a train track by our caravans,
covered in dusty mist,
it’s the fact you taught me swear words,
when we were just pre teens,
you call me one of them teasingly,
I can’t be offended if I don’t know what it means

it’s afternoons like this that make me reminisce,
of crashing waves and salty skies,
legs dangling, sat on the wall,
and eating fish and chips,
feeling the air outside of a car window,
with just my fingertips,
a summer soundtrack made,
just to relax on an old cd you mixed

it’s afternoons like this that make me reminisce,
what it would have been like if we did,
or had, touched each other’s lips,
but your little sister then sat between us on the bench, and I guess it was too early anyways,
you were twelve and I was ten

i can't help but
create out of deliberate obsolescence
with whatever is fatigued and mottled with rust
inside any bygone ruin that fascinates and grips me
and most of all
within the spectra of shadows of your own deepened condition
that gilded edge wane that has never failed
to enthrall and inspire

i could never love a soul until its natural patina arrived

                     ..i can race a worm to the green apple core
                     eat the worm too
                     everything now is beyond ripe
                     exposing what's left beautiful in the spoil
                     ..and neither is there harm in burning
                     this paper mobius strip
                     you've just given me
your name written on the inside coil
mine on the outside
two plumes of smoke folding between us
a  frail thinning wisp caught up in the gentle updraft
columns rising into heaven turning inside a single spire
                              we won't last
                              but i can promise you
                              we will be just as forever
                              you and me
                              ...even as we are about to be reduced
                              to the final moments of our kindred ashes

What if every little thought
That lives inside your head
Instead of hiding away in there
Was spoken out, was said?

Would you be embarrassed?
Would you hate your mouth?
Would you rather be mute
Than let the truth come out?

What if every little thing
That people thought of you
Instead of being tucked away
Was heard, was listened to?

Would you be ashamed?
Would you cover your ears?
Would you rather be deaf
Than let the truth come near?

And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from its prison
To roam until it rots?

Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?