A strip of barren land
Stark, forbidding
But I sat there and watched a flower grow
Bringing a bright splash of colour
To this dead land
Bringing a bright splash of hope
To a world sinking into the darkness

Regret is the consequential disappointment
That the thrilling transgressive frisson your
Online ****** therapist offered for a number.

On the web no one knows if you are a dog
But the Daily Mail knows if you are a love rat
Their readers will wallow in your misfortune.

Millions have had web fantasies exposed
Sharp onomatopoeic cheating thrills have
Become a fear of secret lives found out.

Their private diversions now public lead
Nervous executives newly emasculated
To realise life is short, shorter than desire.

Airports.
Aren't they wonderful.
The most beautiful things on earth really.
Someone once said, "if you want to see true joy or sorrow, visit an airport".
As I sit here in sheer uncertainty of my whereabouts for the next 24 hours. All I can really think of is, how lucky I am to be stranded in one of the most emotive places on earth.

'As pretty as an Airport', Tattooed across the legs of a dear friend who taught me the joys of travel through her exquisite stories. Today I embark to make my own with all the plots and twists that lead you to love a perfectly chaotic book. The uncertainty of where, when and even with whom.

Oh joyous wonder. Oh grateful wanderlust.

I found balance,
In an infinite thought.
I found love,
In between a battlefield of lust.
I found beauty,
In a tornado of hate.
I found you,
In a crowded haze.

You turned my world,
The right side up.
You showed me the power,
And the Joy of Us.

Logic, it seemed,
Was for the single and ******.
It was now a game,
Of us against the world.

But even the silver lining,
Does eventually turn grey.
You packed your bags,
And flew out and away.

I stared into nothing,
Filling up on hate.
For eternity was mine,
But without you it turned grey.

The longer I exist,
The lesser I lived.
Till one fine day,
The flower changed to a scythe.

And that was the story,
My dear dark child.
Of death when he met beauty,
Who turned him to the dark side.