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eileen mcgreevy Jan 2011
Landing at Belfast International Airport always made Byron feel better, but nowhere near the way he used to feel when Megan was alive. He was glad for the busy workload ahead of him, a very welcome distraction.
The latest nightmare revealed more to him than usual, which, according to his phsychiatrist, was a good thing. Climbing into a  cab, Byron opened his laptop and immediately noticed the little envelope at the top of the screen. Messages from the site. Beautiful Words was a luxury, especially since adding his new friend, pen name Maiden, real name, Holly.
Byron could be a normal person on the site, no disfigurements, no judgement, and nobody would ever know about the fire, his failure to save his Megan.Of course, people could read between the lines but that was unlikely.
The message from Holly read "Dearest Phantom, i was so moved by your latest poem..." It went on to state her amazement at Byrons last name, Lorde. " is it really true? so, your name is lord Byron in reverse?" Byron felt a little flutter of excitement at the thought of someone noticing his name, for the first time,.
Byrons mother was a lover of poetry, especially romantic poets, hence his name.The opportunity was irresistable , her name being Lorde.Megans grandfather would poke fun at Byron, saying he was lucky his mother didn't like Edgar Allen Poe.
He almost replied immediately but noticed he'd reached his destination, shutting the laptop, promising himself to pay more attention to beautiful Words, Holly, Jester,  and the rest of the crowd.
Byrons shrink was moonlighting at the local hospital, community work made him feel more human, less robot-like."Well well well," Byron and jake were friends from way back, even before Megan.After the fire,Byron would surely have given up, had it not been for Jake.He poured them both a mineral water while Byron made himself comfy, he knew the drill. The age old cliche, lay down on the couch, close your eyes, "Count backwards from 10, slowly drifting off the closer you get to 1,".
Byron could smell the smoke, taste the charcoal at the back of his throat. He could see her, more clearly than before....
(c) chris smith/eileen mcgreevy  2011
eileen mcgreevy Jan 2011
The flames were so high, Byron was fighting hard against them, to no avail."Megan"!,"Megan"!, screaming her name, he felt engulfed,  and light headed.A thousand thoughts raced through his head, panic, seering pain with every breath he took, call an ambulance, Megan,s screams cut through him like lasers, she was trapped, scared, how must she be feeling right now?
Wood crackled, metal creaked, echos, lights, sirens!
Byron jumped, bolt upright in bed,"O ****, ****",another nightmare, each one bringing his memory closer to what happened in their cottage they had built together.
Byron was working from Leeds, commuting to Killough, his favourite village in Ireland, well, it had to be, it's where he and Megan had met. He'd planned to run the architecture business from home.HA!, home, where was that?, he wasn't sure anymore.
As Byron strolled into the bathroom, turning on the shower he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.Almost forgetting the scars he had aquired from the fire, those visible reminders that his electrician was skimming from the funds, cutting corners, greedy little *******. The sight was gone from his right eye, and his face bore severe scarring right down to the collar bone. A small price to pay, at least he made it out alive.
He made a mental note to get back to Killough, this very night, to see Megans grave.He'd settle for anything, any reminder of Megan, she was slipping away from him, he couldn't have that, ever...another reason for moving to Killough.
part 11/20 from the novel"beautiful words" (c) eileen mcgreevy and chris smith 2011
eileen mcgreevy Dec 2010
I thought i was the chosen one,
The feeling was amazing,
But i fell for a frozen one,
His heart drives me crazy,
He'll let me in,but just a bit,
Then pull away, and make me cry,
He'll tease with words of marriage,
Then disappear, and say goodbye,
A veil of black and lonely cloth,
Imprisons him, but we both know,
He's strong enough to rip it up,
Instead he chooses to let me go
eileen mcgreevy Dec 2010
There is a law, with regards to the heart,
And so, must be followed accordingly.

                                     Please take note, and refer to one,s own heart,

For guidelines
eileen mcgreevy Nov 2010
A normal couple during the week,
But when the weekend comes,
They cancel all that bores them both,
And to passion they succumb,
She bathes in water full of roses,
Soaking up the essence,
While he chills out,
Afew quick drinks then unwraps his **** present,
Thet meet at home, the kitchen sink,
Their first of many meetings,
Then living room, where he comes first,
Her mouth licks up his greeting,
Theback yard table plays the host to we, hot loving passion,
Where she comes next, then to their room,
She models **** fashion,
They warp themselves around eachother,sweat just makes it better,
They probe their bodies, grinding down,
The scent makes her get wetter,
Before they know it, Monday's here,
And in comes that routine,
They kiss goodbye, head off to work, and crave next Friday,s meeting :)
eileen mcgreevy Nov 2010
Dear father time, it's only me,
I've come to ask a favour,
Could you please hurry time along?,
I yearn to see my lover,
We speak so seldom, this past while,
I fear he'll somehow tire of me,
His sentiments are getting scarce,
I pray someday he'll marry me,
So, if you please, i need your help,
Please hurry time along,
I promise i'll cherish every moment,
From that first moment on....
eileen mcgreevy Nov 2010
Phew, ****, what's that smell,
This kitchen soo stinks,

Eww, god, is it the bin?
Or maybe the sink,

Rubber gloves on,
Bleach at the ready,
Approach the bin,
Hold the bleach steady,

Jaysus, what, the hell is that stuff,
It looks like some bread, and a teabag,oo, rough,
A doughnut, all soggy, and out of date jam,
My god im a ******, is that cooked ham?,

Bin is all clean,
But still smell a stench,
I've spotted a stain,
On my breakfast bar bench,

O, ****,
That's it,
My baby nephew did it,
His leaky wee *****,
Has smeared on my chair,
Face mask at the ready,
And tie back the hair,

Amazing how sticky a baby's poo gets,
That'll teach you to ignore the"do you think the kids wet?"....
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