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The room so still
With the sound of the outdoors and the ticking of clocks filling my ears
I’m in bed
Unable to move
My heart so heavy it pins me where I lay
The glass ornament on my bedside table glints next to the picture of me as a child
An amethyst full of worries and dreams
Longing to be emptied by the moon
My heavy but awake eyelids keep glancing around for inspiration to be.
What I love about music is its flow
What I hate about traffic is the stillness
What I love about trees is their stature
What I hate about crowds is the suffocation
What I love about movies is the ending
What I hate about time is AN ending
What I love about movement is the freeness
What I hate about walls is division
What I love about you is who you are
What I hate about silence is it’s confusion
What I love about rain is the freshness it brings
What I hate about destruction is the aftermath
What I love about horses is their soft inquisitive noses
What I hate about ignorance is ignorance
What I love about love is its safety
What I hate about travel is the distance
What I love about fresh sheets is the crispness
What I hate about wet jeans is the smell
What I love about meal times is the sharing
What I hate about taking is the selfishness
What I love about dogs is their unconditional love
How to make friends over a beer
How to make any modest room beautiful with fairy lights
How to consecutively loose three university ID cards, replace them and then simultaneously find all three misplaced cards in the bottom of the same bag.
How to blag your way onto the university bus without ID
How to make a family out of your friends


When to give constructive criticism.
When to hit the cafeteria for discounted lunch items
When to let house mates off for making the kitchen a **** tip
When to realise that the reason your soreen cake keeps going missing from you food cupboard is not in fact because there are some soreen cake loving mice,  it is in fact just your house mate  who “just thought you weren’t going to eat it”
When to plant an onion in hopes of an onion tree.


Where to kick a corrugated door for a taxi
Where to get the best tray of jalapeños
Where to get a magic tenner
Where to sit in the lecture hall so you could only be partially seen
Where to find your confidence
Knowing I’ll never be able to pay off my university debt
But knowing it was priceless
A Child full of wonder comes home
And hangs her coat on a peg
She hangs her backpack
Her scarf and her mittens on a string
the new friends she made
the smell of a spring and freshly baked biscuits
And the sound of Mrs Townsend taking the register
She puts her headband on the peg, with her name painted on it in silver
And her jumper with her name sewn inside
The whirr of the acorn computer and the flash of coloured pencils
The shyness and worry about not fitting in
The wish to be seen but not be the centre of attention
The worry about nightmares coming true
The realisation that everything just like the day has to come to an end
I will always love you
She longed for a skipping rope
She ties the rope securely around the peg
How sturdy with all this weight
She stares at the peg proudly
She thought about her day and her hopes and her worries
and thought about how heavy they can sometimes feel
So she knows this peg is doing a great job
At taking the load
I want to consume because I feel empty
I’m exhausted
I’m stuck in the in between
Candles light fascinated me because it has a life and an ending
And in that short time it creates a warmth and a joy but then when it’s blown out it just stops beating
Like love
Love for me
I tried to stop this
But my detract and release makes it difficult to find the points that I stop being together and the points where I stop being okay
Where is the healing
The the wax melting back to its heart beat
And the wax making sure that it’s complete
The cycle seems never ending
I find it difficult to find me
Love is like pain,
When it's gone you remember that it hurt
And that it knocked you off your feet
But the pure extent of how much it threw you
Is lost forever
Broken mirrors line the road with tales of their stormy past
The hosts take in the most of their image
Just a humble looking glass
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