Everyone says
it’s going to hurt now
before it gets better
but I don’t think
I can wait that long
or maybe
I just don’t want to let go.
I’d rather have something
than go on
with nothing.

Today I walked past our spot
under the Sycamore where we used to lay
and all at once, those memories
of you and I
came rushing back like a flood.

I watched as they set the skies on fire
and the shadows cast were a golden hue
the violent winds danced with our silhouettes
gamboling in the shade of that lover's tree.

In that moment
you took my hand,
your incendiary stare igniting desires
setting fires
as you cast your handprint on my soul.

In the midnight hour
I listen to the wind
racing through the dark
its song beautifully broken
as it kisses every dream
that glides upon its wings.

When it no longer hurt to hear your name said out loud, a friend asked me what it was like being with you. He broached the topic cautiously and with an apologetic smile on his face.

I said it was horrible. He said, “What? Why?”. I told him that the way you treated me, with the constant to-ing and fro-ing of emotions, left me with a bad case of emotional whiplash.

Then he said, “Isn’t that what love is? Love makes you confuse what’s up and what’s down”.

I told him it’s only ever worth it if you end up with the person. After all, no one remembers the runner up to any race. The winner takes it all, the loser has to fall.

And there she goes
with a frail heart
the fragile girl
seeks refuge
in the quiet corners
of a strangers' lonely
and vacant stare
if only,
I could be the shores
she dropped her anchor for.

"One wild and precious life", he says as he shows me the skull he had impulsively tattooed on his ******* as a symbol that things should not be taken for granted. I’ll sit with him in a diner as he sips his weak lemon tea and talk about the reasons stars twinkle up in the sky. Some made-up story I’ll likely believe about constellations and moonbeams and how nothing is what it seems. And when it’s late, he’ll call me and tell me he needs to share something cool he just read. I’ll wonder if he ever sleeps as I doze off listening to him drone on and on and on about poetry, social revolutions, communism and the art of keeping sketchbooks. And in the morning I wake to a phone under my pillow hoping I didn’t embarrass myself by saying something I shouldn’t have. I’ll bump into him in the library reading some tattered old manuscript and he won’t mention anything about last night. He’ll just look up at me for a brief moment, smile because I did say something embarrassing then quickly bury his face back into his book. Red faced I’ll sit beside him and slap him on the arm as we burst into fits of uncontrolled laughter, hidden between rows of books.

This emotional crutch
needs an emotional crutch
someone is always waiting
hopelessly
I am always waiting
crying out
take me with you when you go
as you disappear into the tide
that pulls you under.

I’ve tried
but I’ve taken all I can
when my tongue tries to fight
a piece of me dies trying to conceal it
there is nothing left of this heart
but a lump of meat turned to coal.

So when I’m gone
(please) don’t preserve my memory
I’m not your insect immortalised in amber
or your corpse waiting frozen in ice
don’t romanticise what this is
it was what it was till it was no more
just scatter what remains
and forget me.

Have you ever been in love?

Well I have.
Because you are;
my sin
my absolution
my redeeming qualities
my heartbeat
my muse
everything

(I will never have).

Every night
I visit those old memories
where you haunt the corridors like a ghost in the night
and I drink you in until I'm drunk on us
and for a while at least,
I am lost
dancing with the illusion of you.

The beginning was benign
as most beginnings usually are
but how was I to know it would turn out the way it did
dangerous and unpredictable
hurtful and sad.

On nights where a chill
floats on the breeze,
again in my sleep
you come to me,
I remember you
the gap in your teeth
and your crooked smile,
but like a faded memory
you haunt my dreams
staining the quiet we shared
our sips of innocence
and faltering hands.

Your hands
they speak to me
spelling out words
an elegant scrawl upon my skin,
an ****** kind of sign language
leaving traces of Braille all over me.

Don’t tell me that it’s better off in the long run
That this will do us good
When I’m stuck living in yesterday
And you’re spending my tomorrow
with somebody new.

Sorrow isn’t a goodbye
It isn’t forgotten dreams shared over cups of bitter coffee
Sorrow is having love walk away
And realising it’s taking with it your best friend.

What of all those plans
Left out in the sun to dry
Old tarnished remnants, of how it used to be
Standing like monuments
Chiseled by the winds of time, until nothing remains.

That’s you riding shotgun beside the victor
Sparing a melancholic glance at me through the rear view window
I’ll wipe my face but you won’t see
These tears that stain
So as rivulets of black carve canals down my cheeks
Don’t you dare tell me that it’s better in the long run.

There were dandelion wishes carried gently in the wind. I think I even saw crimson birds dance with the butterflies as the sun was split into a million rainbows reflected in their tiny wings. I kept thinking that there must be someone out there who still believes in making wishes. Someone who believed that there were things worth wishing for. Beautiful things such as those that cannot be seen or touched but instead felt within the heart. I closed my eyes as I let the smell of grass and sun kissed flowers envelope me like a friend.

When you left
you stole the silence
from my bed
and vulnerable petals
fell like penance
from my eyes
as crashing waves
tossed my broken heart
upon an ocean
of bitter tears.

A bruise is nothing. They hurt for the most part but then they heal. They’re like coffee rings that stain tabletops. Easily removed with a damp dish rag. A scar is something else. More like a true friend, always there, even if you don’t remember quite how you got it. Most people are like bruises or fleeting moments, here today and gone tomorrow. They’re like invisible ink. But a true friend, that’s a scar. A permanent imprint that’s left on the soul which marks you forever.

Did you know
that when I think of you
I'm bathed in shades of blue,
and I often wonder
if you ever think of me
what color would I seem to you?

I could pretend to hate you
and say you never changed anything
and you can keep telling everyone
that I don't even figure
as a footnote in your life

but if I were to be honest
I would say that

your kiss is the one
I will compare all future kisses to

well now you know
and maybe, you even feel you have
some sort of power over me

well,
you would be right
while I'm floating aimlessly in your atmosphere
searching for some gravity
all you do is smile
like you know I'm a fool

well,
you would be right.

Sitting in a bright sunny place
you feel the dark collapsing around you
it settles in your heart
oppressive like a dark cloud
but Love,
that’s just your shadow
turn around
and look at me.

I’m doing just fine. I go out on the weekends and I dance with strangers like it doesn’t remind me of you. I laugh with new friends and the smell of jasmine no longer makes me think of your perfume. I no longer remember how the lights from those tungsten stars reflected in your eyes. And guess what, I can smile brighter now and I’ve even forgotten the way your hand fit seamlessly into mine. I can go home alone, turn up the TV and drown out every single memory of you.

The wind howls
and torrents of rain batter
crashing relentlessly
against the stained glass windows of my heart
pouring down in rivulets
as the ghosts of what we were
still haunt me.

He saw her and tried to look away. He didn’t want her to know he was interested. He was resolved not to be like all the other boys who unashamedly tried everything to get her attention. Instead he acted cool like he couldn’t be bothered even though she was invading his brain like the mist that descends from the mountains on a chilly morning. She was everywhere. She was like standing out in the hot sun with your eyes closed, he could feel her, heating his skin. She was everywhere.

No, there's no such thing as a long goodbye
that's just me, dragging out the inevitable.

And no, I'm not blaming you
maybe I wished too hard that it would last a lifetime
I should've adopted your cynicism on love
that would've saved my soul from impossible heartbreak.

And no, I don't stay awake keeping up the stars anymore
this time they wait on me, watching
as I sleep soundly in a field of clover cradled in love.

And no, I'm not thinking of you or crying again
I wake up, pull open the curtains
stare wide eyed at how beautiful the world is
and how it was never anything but the way it has always been.

And no, I'm not broken anymore.

Your smile sets me ablaze
and I swoon to the sighs of a confetti of tears
You offered me the world
and a stage of my own
And without permission you plunged deep into my subconscious mind.

Wanting more leaves you chasing whispers
Like a vanishing a shadow that fades into the light
A wreckage heavy with guilt
Sinking fast, into the depths of the unknown.

So there I stand with my heart in my hands
Pledging that to the last hour of my life
You cannot be anything but to remain
every part of me, every part of my being
Every good
Every evil.

Left alone in the wandering night
I shall end my book in the comforting shadows
In the uncertainty of the future
In the haunting of the past
And that is where I shall find myself living.

Sunday morning
last night on my breath
your scent lingers
and your ghost still fresh on my mind.

You taught me to love things especially when they come by as infrequently as the twinkle you get in your eyes when you’re really happy. So here’s what we’ll do: we’ll pack some lunch and take a walk on this perfect afternoon. You can pick out a grassy patch somewhere beneath the shade of a Mimosa tree and there we’ll talk about silly things. And between the witty banter and stupid jokes we’ll fall in love all over again to the soft soundtrack of the city humming away in the near distance.

Conscious yet half asleep in that crowded bus I caught a glimpse of you. In the middle of that humid night ride home I thought I saw you smile at me. And then you were gone.
I had lost you again.

A mystery woven into the fabric of memories and unfurled as experiences like the strangers that appear in the background of old photographs. Sleeping with the windows open and listening to the wind chimes dance in the night air. The thunder rolls, the crickets cry and somewhere in the darkness an owl keeps watch. All that’s left are words to drown in. If I had to, that’s how I’d describe you. So don’t look at me like I have the answers. Because when the world walks out, you are the map and I keep getting lost on purpose.

The shore’s deep cobalt waters gradually give way to sand and polished stone. Outside, raindrops crash to the ground like a string of pearls ripped from a delicate necklace. They scatter loose and bring to mind a painful, ecstatic heartbeat. Each drop caresses and kisses dead branches blackened by soot and flames. I’ll gather each pearl, searching on my hands and knees in the dying light. A futile practice but an exercise in remembering. But could anything remain on naked flame as tiny embers dance in the midnight air?

And to me
you will remain
forever a secret
as I am afraid
to speak of you
in case the words fail me,
turning the sacred
into the profane.

Tell me my eyes
remind you of the night sky
so that when I'm gone
you can squeeze yours shut
until the stars twinkle on the back of your eyelids
that's me looking right back at you.

On the precipice of broken dreams
we stare down a canyon of hitched breaths and stolen moments
on a December evening I remember you said,
"it makes me ache
how I could never love you
the way you want".

Too much time has passed
like water under the bridge I've burned
maybe you don't even care anymore
but would you just kiss me
one more time
with closed eyes
and you can pretend
I am whoever you want.

Personally I think you are insane. You may be the most insane person I know. And trust me, I know a few. But out of all the insane people out the, I like you the best. Because you make waking up every morning something I look forward to doing. I can’t wait to receive your text messages. The ones I can’t help but smile from ear to ear reading. Or those phone calls where we talk for ages about the most ridiculous things. I don’t care that you’re killing my phone bill or that people may look at me funny for bursting out laughing like a fool from something I’m reading on my phone. Personally I think you’re insane but that’s what I like about you.

Oh to sit and watch the sunset reflected in your eyes
as the moon and stars swirl with delight
Nothing seems better than this night
but for the end of today
I will be your cliche
as we settle like dust in this town.
But his ambitions returned
dissecting the winter of lucid insights
as a doubting painter before his death.
Slipping between fiction and reality
the heart is a twisting motion belieing itself, wringing itself.

What is it you see when you look in the mirror everyday
Are you looking for something that should be there, or is it staring you in the face
Deep down we all know that we’re always creating something out of nothing
Giving life to an illusion, creating a seperate reality
I suppose that’s how we survive
Each and every one of us so sure of our own realness
Or maybe, we’re so sure of our illusions
that we’ve forgotten what’s real and what’s not
It’s easier that way, for some, for most
We spend our time crafting our identities,
however illusionary, however far fetched, however unbelievable
And that biological puppet we’ve been stringed up to is more real than flesh and bone
Because the faces that we see are not our own
They’re an invention, a facade, a defense mechanism
I think that in the quiet moments we don’t really like ourselves, our real selves
That’s just too much reality, too much truth to handle
It’s like removing your make up, getting undressed and going out into a crowd
Bare faced and naked with nothing to hide behind
Letting strangers inspect every crevice, every flaw, every thing
So we pump ourselves full of chemicals
Fill our veins with mindless entertainment
Just to hush the voices
All in the hopes of forgetting
Forgetting that it’s more than just bodies spinning around, going through the motions
It’s about maintaining the misalignment of nerves and the misfiring synapses
So that even if you wanted to, you would never know which side of the fence you were on
You’re lucky if you find yourself in the shade
But if you happen to be in the path of a hurricane, I guess you wouldn’t any better
All those bruises and scars will seem like they were meant to be
And in time, your broken heart will heal, just not in the way you thought it would
And you’ll question everything
You’ll question your father, your mother, your lover, your God
Because you know that branches and debris alone can’t do so much damage
Was man supposed to love so much that it hurt?
I guess yeah, but not in the way that love was meant to be felt
Who knows how we’re meant to love
If you’ve never been in a gunfight, how would you know what I was talking about
And yet, we all talk
We talk like we know what we’re talking about
But no one seems to talk about the important things, like time and death
They bring life to the things that are worth knowing
Just look into the eyes of everyone around you
Forget other people, look into the mirror at yourself
When it comes time to go, everyone welcomes it
We finally realise and accept how easy it is
Or maybe we’re just grew weary of pretending
Because in the end, it’s refreshing to know you don’t have to hold on so tight
Letting go is accepting that your dreams; both good and bad, are just memories
Memories made of moments you keep locked up in your mind
Moments where you dream of what you should be, what you could be, what you’re not
And like all dreams, there’s a monster at the end of the hallway
But unlike all dreams, you don’t always wake up.

Black velvet
is draped
across the night sky
and shimmers with studded jewels.

You came in like a tornado
and intoxicated me
suffocated me
with words and thoughts and ideas
you are a single incident
an organised whole
perceived as more than the sum of your parts
your voice, your gestures, your smile
you’ve stained me
you are my Gestalt.

In my darkened loneliness
memories of you dance before my eyes
so vividly in technicolor
and a lump rises in my throat
as your name floats about in my mouth
traversing the undulations of my crooked teeth
and teasing the sense regions of my tongue
I whisper your name
as if I were ascribing divinity
to those simple syllables
as if my incantations could bring you back to me
as if it were anything more
than words tumbling onto the hardwood floor.

Sitting on this window's ledge
I pour myself a cup of rage
and ready with a pen and paper
I'll wait for the unheard melodies
that filter through the silent night
rain down on me and wash me clean.

If I were to paint a scene for you
I'd fill it with shades of black and blue
like the colours of my heart
as it beats itself to a pulp
holding onto your promise
it once thought to be true.

I was the perfect prayer
in your desperate hour

with my heart and soul
in your irreverent hands

I was the faith
seeking out the heart

you the unbeliever
too proud to believe.

There is a place
before the dawn
where I await you
longing, under grey skies
where pregnant clouds watch over me
under the shelter
of a row of pines
on hills of amber
this is our place of love,
lost but not forgot.

You leave impressions on everything. Like fingerprints on misted windows. You welcome each raindrop that kisses your face but ponder the purposeful aimlessness of the rain as an image of immense fragility. Your words like dappled sunlight peeking through the trees are like thoughts, planted in the heart, growing too fast. But the secrets that are kept hidden behind thoughtful yet precipitous eyes are as intense as a love affair. The silence, the raging, the zest for growing older, the abstract shadow you cast on a hot sidewalk, the air you breathe…all point to a quiet type of bravery.

We don’t need another McDonald’s,
Starbucks
or fat frying KFC
maybe just stop stuffing your face,
your ears, your mind
with all that BS they’re feeding you on TV
put down your smart phones
your tablets, your notebooks
just put them ****** things down
and look at me
coz if you ain’t ready to turn off and tune in
then maybe you should quit calling me baby
why don’t you return my keys
and forget my number while you’re at it
hey,
I wasn’t put on this earth
to be your charging plug point
for when your batteries are low
so don’t call on me
when you find some scraps of time
in your busy schedule
or when your boo forgets about you
and you need a shoulder to cry on
I ain’t your momma or your all day restaurant
and I sure as hell ain’t your personal ATM,
or your get-outta-jail free pass
if you ain’t here for me now
then all you’ll see
is the trail of dust I leave
as I drive away from your sad *** life.

Remembrance like hazy days
of drinking too much and laughing too loud
forgetting to measure each minute that passed
till hope dwindles to a flickering ember
and everything that once was
turns into a shadow on the wall
the tattered wallpaper in someone’s heart
like a latent memory of searing regrets
or an eternal kiss,
burled into an angel’s *****
a kiss goodbye from a summer’s lilac.

I want to listen to the night rain with you. We’ll sneak out when everyone’s asleep. Creep through the woods and over the hill. To that spot where noone knows. I don’t care if it rains all night. I just want to pick daffodils and waste wishes with you. Watch them fly to the moon and dance among the stars. Let it pour, let it rain. You can be my ‘dancing barefoot in the wet grass’, I’ll be your ‘t-shirt hanging on a limb’. I want to listen to the night rain with you.

Sometimes you don’t know why you gravitate towards certain people. It’s unquantifiable, something intangible. Like the way they smile and what was once gloomy suddenly seems light and airy. Or maybe when you see their name on your phone, you can’t seem to answer it fast enough. Perhaps they just fill your heart with colours that don’t exist. And when they leave all you can do is trace the outline of the human figure that used to fill that void within your soul. So don’t let them leave. Be the reason they wake up every morning…even if they don’t know it yet.

Walking down the street
Smiling quietly with me but by yourself
Hands in your pocket
Something on your mind
Fire escapes and fences
The holiday lights dancing some kinda magic off of your brown hair
Remember that Spring a few years back
You kissed me and I tasted your salty lips
No traditions, no gift exchanges,
Just a mistletoe hanging from the clear blue sky
Dresses and ties and blazers and heels
You’re my somebody to share the holidays with
You’re my someone to kiss
You’re my someone at midnight holding hands under a streetlight
And you’re my someone in those quiet secret moments
What a sweet souvenir
If I let my mind talk,
You are that sweeping statement, the summing up of everything I chant subconsciously.

I went shopping today and bumped into an old friend from school. She’s all grown up now and that slightly-on-the-heavy-side ugly duckling with thick glasses, oily skin and pimples has blossomed into a lithe, olive skinned, sashaying vision of femininity. I asked what she had done and she gave me the usual but glib answer of “sensible food and lots of exercise”. But I know it takes more than that. After all, I was her shoulder to cry on when the pretty people needed someone as a verbal punching bag. After a few cups of coffee she confessed, “I may have changed on the outside, but my confidence still needs firming up. I still feel like a loser on the inside.” I guess we’ve all been there; on the wrong side of the tracks feeling like a steaming heap of something a cow just left behind. But if we only get so many trips around the sun, remember that there’s over 10 billion people in the world and every second you waste on an idiot is one second you could’ve spent making really good friends.