You’re going to be fine.
?
I am, see?
.
You will. I came to tell you stuff. Listening?
.
Jumble sale shoes. I know you’ve got acrylics somewhere. Paint them.
?
The shoes. Flowers and dragons like you draw up your arms. They’re really good by the way. No one in school draws like you.
.
We are. You just have to be good-different. Stop hiding the whole time. Everyone loves your drawing.
.
We still like painting, reading…
?
It’ll happen when you’re 11. The letters un-jumble and it makes sense.
!
Honestly.
.
And at Christmas- tell Mum it’s your idea: Keeping him away from the ***** makes him cross- no point. Give him a drink as early as possible. By noon he’s unconscious and you put him to bed. Looks like he hit his head real hard but he woke up.
?
It’s OK. He doesn’t remember a thing. Works every year.
.
Stuff heals. It gets better. Everything. Life is excellent. People say you’re pretty, won’t believe it but you are. And we live on a good street in a warm house by the sea.
!
Honestly, cross my heart.
.
There’s one last thing. Listening?
.
Learn to laugh silently, no sound what so ever. I know you can’t imagine it- but she gets her revenge and it’s going to be funny. Takes years. You must play along or it won‘t work. So laugh silently.
?
Just one example then: Do you go to the car-boot sales yet?
.
On a Sunday in June, only 7AM but it’s so hot! She spots a koi carp in the road.
?
Like a giant goldfish. This one was huge. Probably dropped by a heron or something.
.
She moves it onto the verge and keeps walking. It's still there at 1.30. Been baking up on that verge all morning in full sun. Smothered in ants, horrible.
.
She wraps it in a Tesco bag and a bin liner- it stinks. As soon as you get in she starts frying onions, making pastry, white sauce. Dad eats fish pie for supper.
?
She made us a separate one.
.

I look at the sunset
And I realise why lesser men
Believe in heaven

A home for neglected hearts
Each battered and bruised
Still fighting
Yet, never to find each other

Yearning only shows the cracks
The fragility of something so strong
Hoping only weakens conviction
When there is no action to take

I buried my heart out in a field,
Beneath an old oak tree.
I'll stop and visit it once in a while,
And tell it stories of me.
The life I live and places I've been,
All the best places to see.
The men and women who make up my life,
Who know a story or three.

I buried my heart out in a field,
Six feet beneath cold clay.
Deep enough to protect it from you,
Shallow enough to retrieve it one day.
To dig it up and check it for wear,
Protecting it from decay.
My poor heart is never safe,
With you never that far away.

I buried my heart out in a field,
Far from prying eyes.
Hiding the scars from my own sight,
Wrapping it up in lies.
I want to pretend that everything's fine;
That the pain's been cut down to size.
But that's not true, it's right near the surface,
As my one and only tear dries.

I buried my heart out in a field,
I did it for selfish reasons.
To shield it from this treacherous life,
And all its mercurial seasons.
The lies, the scars, the six feet of dirt,
Just a few more little treasons.
I buried my heart out in a field,
And I forgot to mark the spot

An island.
Sometimes.
That's me.
An island.
Surrounded by the bitter thoughts and openly hostile fears of those that don't
Understand.

So when I tell you,
"This is me."
I'm not asking for:
Permission
Judgment
Scorn
Doubt
or
Rage
I'm asking for:
Patience
Concern
Love
Friendship
And a familiar ear to voice my own fear.

Kermit the Frog once said,
"It's not easy being green."
Well Kermit, I finally think I know what you mean.

Uncommon is not as welcome as it would seem.

i told you i loved you
my voice faltered in the absence of light
the words fell out of my mouth
ungraceful and ugly as ever
it is no wonder your touch went cold
the silence you chose not to sever
your reply was infested with mold
the distance grew and my chest sunk
"that's sweet of you, but i'm just too drunk"
and in that moment i knew
that i was wrong, i do not love you
not at all

Our hearts are free
We are free when we
Set out to be in our
Souls and hearts

We tend to chain and
Restrict ourselves and
Not seeing our true
Worth and beauty

We tend to lie to
Ourselves and tell
Ourselves of things
That aren't true

We are whole and
Beautiful in our
Own ways and
Our hearts know

The truth to be
Free with our
Hearts and minds
And souls is just there

Waiting below the
Surface and letting
Us know we can
Let go of all of the

Things that burden
Us and keep us from
Seeing ourselves as
We truly are

Have ye beheld (with much delight)
A red rose peeping through a white?
Or else a cherry (double graced)
Within a lily? Centre placed?
Or ever marked the pretty beam
A strawberry shows half drowned in cream?
Or seen rich rubies blushing through
A pure smooth pearl, and orient too?
So like to this, nay all the rest,
Is each neat niplet of her breast.

I used to find pain
Behind every withered memory
Hiding under every word
Creeping alongside my laughter
But I have been opened
And the pain that lingered inside
Has taken flight like a startled crow
A black shadow against the black night
I appear to have been opened
And sweet things are trickling in
Where the pain used to be
They fill my soul
Not make it deeper
They touch my wounds
But do not hurt them
These sweet things that taste of honey
Smell of spring
And look like life
Repair my withered memories
Enhance my every word
And laugh alongside me
I don't know what the sweet things are
But they grow on me
And do not consume me
Now I have forgotten the pain
I remember what the sweet things are
They aren't love, they aren't happiness
They are little pieces of **velvet stars