How often we ask the same questions?
How do you start,
what should be in the middle
how should it end.

What happens when,
we don't know,
we never answer them,
we fail to answer them correctly?

The seconds soon slip
As I remain in your grip,
A Marlboro light,
Hanging between your sweet lip.

My hair is a tangled mess
And on the floor, strewn is my dress.
Slight, lacy and black,
In an attempt to impress.

Your eyes are pale pastel,
You mumble that you like my castle
'For my princess'
You say as I bury in your muscle.

Your beard is stubble on my cheek,
With each toss and turn the floorboards creek,
As you look under the sheets to peak.

Your cigarette is blunted in a vase,
You hold my cheek and say
'You are far more precious than glass'

Your skin is dew like and gathers between your brow,
I stroke your jaw as if I don't know how.

The kiss is so tender, so careful, so harsh,
Your breathe tastes like mirangues and ash,
I move my lips over your thickening 'tache.

"My love" you pant three times,
As you squeeze my thighs
And I kiss your eyes.

What an impeccable morning,
A love without warning.

Here comes November rain,
He lingers on the window pane.

Locked outside without a key,
Please keep him away from me.

I've changed the lock,
His face reflects in the clock.

It chimes but he still remains outside,
His persistence won't make me abide.

November rain,
Knocking on the door frame.

Desperate to get in,
I can't withstand him.

Sometimes I feel,
I have it all planned out,
Then it's as if my hairs falling out.

Sometimes it's like,
Everything's right,
Then my chest gets way too tight.

Sometimes I know,
Exactly what I feel,
Then I feel like I'm in a hamster's wheel.

Sometimes I get,
Which way I should go,
But then I panic.
I, just, don't, know,

The buildings stand high like mountains,
except more defined,
countless floors down,
I stand, blind.

The cars creep past,
a continuous stream,
whilst I wait to cross,
forever it seems.

Times square shines bright,
but all I see,
is the homeless man,
made bed next to me.

I stand in my anorak,
curly hair holding the smell,
how long shall I stay?
only time will tell.

I jangle my few cents,
in my trouser pocket,
I repeat the name,
as if I forgot it.

I left all I knew,
just for you,

my little English home,
and exquisite British tea,
all for you to fall in love with me.

I stick out like a strand of grey hair,
among all the hustle,
of times square.

The hurse crept through in a thick haze,
I'd been holding this off for so many days,
The black turned the innocent white to grey slush,
The people gathered in gentle rush,
They wore flashes of colour teamed with monochrome,
A painted smile on ladies face,
Men had grown stubble,
Miles now seemed so so close,
The donations box rattled with loose change,
The crematorium seats squeaked,
My grandma held my hand,
My aunt held my back,
As I held myself together with sticky tack,
I walked by the coffin,
Death lay inside,
This small wooden box,
Didn't seem capable of life,
A phone rattled in the back,
Lively again, somebody was in demand.
Funny anecdotes were shared,
False smiles grew,
I looked at the coffin,
That's when I knew,
That the body in the coffin wasn't really you.
You were someone who would chase monsters away,
A man who would hold my troubles at bay,
Brush my hair the way no one else could,
Make all the evil no longer seem bad,
For that fragile body in those sides,
Will never be my dad,
Not when it's ashes,
Churned by the sea,
In my heart, you shall forever be.

home can be:
a person,
place,
house,
a room,
a lesson,
a blessing,
feeling,
believing,
dreaming,
a country,
the sea,
and object,
a tree,
the breeze,
ironically,
being locked into home,
is what lets you
free.