A shadow writes
Explorations of lust
And danger
Passionate endeavours
Into forbidden territory
And thus
Its civilised host
Is never compromised

I cannot write
My increasing vocabulary despite
I cannot capture what’s real
What I actually feel
I cannot capture
You

I can write about pain
I can write out my fears
Make you worry about me – again
I can write about strange addictions
And constructed fictions
But they cannot encompass
You

When you smile
You open my heart
And out pours my words like the Nile
It’s a strange contradiction
That from you streams my fiction
But my fictions are rarely about
you

When I write
I build castles of words
I let my demons fight
But those demons are safe on my page
They are locked in a virtual cage
This is keeping me sane for
You

When I dream
When I conjure up magical worlds
Things are not what they may seem
For they may be about finding vents
Using words as escape, making dents
But the rock upon which my castles are built
Is you
Always you

I drank the news
That night
Burned my palate

Sped through my veins
Like a malicious spirit
Volatile conscience
I evaporated
I raised my glass
That night
Asked for another round
Of darkness
To fill me up
Like an endless night
Into which I could run
I vanished

I lit it up
That night
Set my world ablaze
And jumped
Into the flames
So, like a phoenix
I might rise again
From the ashes

I draw tiny circles
In the air
Tiny circles to support my world
To prevent it from crumbling
Under pressure

I write little letters
In my mind
Little letters to prove
To convince me of my sanity
To keep me sane

I talk to long gone images
Beautiful images
From the past
Now disappeared
I talk to them
Beg them to come back

I discovered it
On a Sunday morning
During my normal morning routines.
It was still small and insignificant then. Dark like a small cave,
an entrance into my skin
But too small
For anything to enter.

A week passed
In quiet oblivion
There didn't seem to be
Anything to talk about,
And I almost forgot it was there.

Then on Sunday,
The mirror caught it
Again
I had not tried to look
But the mirror made me,
And there it was

It had grown.
Still looked like a cave
Now fit for a snake
Or a small rodent
But it was not hollow
There was no cavity.

I felt like
I had to tell someone
Only
I didn't know how
So
I covered the hole
And tried to forget it.

Forgetting proved hard.
Every time I passed the mirror
It reminded me of
Our secret
And one night
My husband surprised us.
He suddenly stood there
In the doorway
Watching me
Explore the darkness
Which had spread
And now resembled
A dark country on my back.

We didn't talk about it,
But my husband made an appointment
For me to see a specialist
In dark patches.
He knew
I would just go and hide
Inside it
If he told me
To do it myself.

So I went
To see the specialist.
Feeling rather nervous,
I let her inspect
My dark side.
The dark patch
Was now so big
I was half black
Half white
And I would flip
Like a coin
Showing either side
At random.

She wanted to operate.
I should be split in halves
And the dark half
Should be put away
Somewhere safe.

I left the room
Feeling liberated
And inspired.
A thousand words suddenly swarmed
My unrestrained mind
And demanded venting.
So I bought a notebook
On my way home
And I started writing
As soon as I got a moment
To spare.

During my Sunday routine
I suddenly looked in the mirror
And it occurred to me
That on my right shoulder
There was a patch
Of white
The size of a small
Rodent's nesting hole.

I  know you.
I have been watching you
For a while.
I know you want me to
And that you want me too
I can tell this from your smile.

You know me
I know you have seen me around
I am somehow always there.
Every thing you do, I have to see
I have to hear every sound
You see,  it is all because I care

I knew it all along
From the way you smiled in class
That I was meant to be your girl
Is this totally wrong?
I know you've checked out my ***
I just know that I'd rock your world.

But I have to lay low
A relation is not allowed yet
But soon,  when you graduate...
So I'm planning to take it slow
Savouring the moments we get
Until we're allowed to date.

...and yes, I am a teacher!

But those hands are cold
despite the glowing heat
from the proximal heart
next to them
and the comfort
of tangible happiness.
Extemities are irrelevant
until quakes
threaten the calm
and demand
immediate changes
and rescue response
Still, the body is quiet and warm...