Outside I sense the streets' hustle and bustle.
Inside, not even a rustle.
Who'd have known the city could be so lonely?
Thousands of faces but none of them know me.
Cold coffee. Uncomfortable small talk.
No familiar paths for me to walk.
The place that I connect not to, but they call home.
Their foundation, their roots, where I am alone.

Day two
Without you.
A million miles apart
But under the same stars.
I am sleeping alone in this river I've cried.
The nights are so long when you're empty inside.
Are you thinking of me?

The day you went away
was the day my world stopped turning.
We both always knew this would be temporary but Three Hundred and Twenty Seven days of you was never going to be enough.

The flowers here wilted
and shrivelled away when you left.
They only ever blossomed for you.

The grass dried up
and the leaves fell down.
Dusty tracks now where once lay roads.

The birds flew South
but not just for the winter.
To be with you.

This place,
our place,
the town that brought us together
is tainted now.
It can offer me no more.

Come home.

Waking up in the remains of regret with eyes that are dead,
Awkwardly exploiting the generous distance of your king sized bed.
We are physically together but emotionally apart.
I know it isn't me whose name is etched into your heart.
Dressing in the daylight, our eyes daren't to connect.
We share a final cigarette, it's all that we have left.
I know it's her you think of when you put on your jeans
Because it's he who I'm still longing for in each and every dream.

Who am I?
I'll never know,
So you don't stand a chance.

I, the real me, has been hidden by fuchsia feathers and fairy wings,
Restrained in ribbons since in infancy.

Sometimes I think even my coffin will be smothered in sequins and surrounded by only my proudest of family.
"She was always so sensible"
"What an angel"
They'll say as they watch me lie there, one last time.

I was one granddaughter amongst six grandsons. Or as they put it, I was "our little princess"
(Even at the age of seventeen in maturity's mirage).

My entire life has already been decided for me. I am destined, doomed you might say, to be great. Great in their eyes, adequate in mine.

Never was I free to make my own choice.
Never was I free to find my own voice.
Never was I free
And never will I be.