Even the moon changes,
Develops,
After time,
becomes whole
So why can't you?

I mean,
you kind of do
But like the moon you
always go back
It's just not as gradual

I think of you both at night
Except with you
It makes me unable to sleep

At least the moon is up there in the sky
Just looking pretty
And following my car
Catching my eye
Making me smile
Not making me cry

I love the moon
But that's weird because
Is it's similar to you

It was failure

which led me

to the right path:

I've since regarded

it as my life's true treasure

Not through my words
nor my poems
would reveal the true me-
they are but fragments:
the intrinsic
is contained
in my within

perhaps
only a small part
of my true self
you could but best
have a glimpse

self is seldom transparent
each hides a veil within

you might trust me
implicitly
but I remain
somewhat
a mystery
in between

You read my poetry,
then turned away,  
as if the words
had nothing to say.  
Each line was a pulse,
it was a part of me,  
yet you drift on past,
too blind to see  
that my verses ache,
hoping to be heard,  
yet silence lingers,
louder than each word.  
The ink may fade,
but my feelings remain,  
as I laid my heart bare,
was it all in vain?

©️Lizzie Bevis

Sunbeams through the window are like childhood memories—
Warm, vivid, and simply true.
And they never leave me, even when I’ve forgotten.

life is full of good times,
bad times and everything
that blurs the lines.

my good times vary,
overseas trips, and
my heart doing flips.

but the bad times,
they run the same script;
you aint good enough, never will be, what a trip!

now, the in-between,
seems so dull not to mean
anything, but it's mine.

my life is full
of good times,
bad times and
everything in between.

comes a differing hue
with duck egg blue

the ironmongers in town
at one seventy nine