She holds my heart securely within her grasp
Thus far she has no knowledge of her potency.
For her to have awareness of her cradling
My ardour, my affections,
May risk an arrest of  my hearts loving palpitations
For she may leave,
And then my hearts light would be extinguished.

In shadows cast by the elusive approval of others, a silent tremor courses through the heart.

A delicate dance with vulnerability, the fear of rejection, an intricate tapestry woven with threads of self-doubt.

Echoes of unspoken fears reverberate in the corridors of the soul, where the ache of anticipation meets the haunting specter of disapproval.

Each step forward tinged with the weight of potential dismissal, the fragile ego tiptoes on the tightrope of acceptance, yearning for the elusive embrace of validation.

In this realm of uncertainty, courage battles apprehension, and the pen of self-worth hesitates, hesitant to script its narrative in the ink of judgment.

The fear of rejection, a phantom that lurks in the corners of connection, yet within its grasp, resilience blooms, forging a narrative not defined by external verdicts but by the unwavering strength within.

In the shadowed corridors of my mind, depressive demons dance
Their spectral silhouettes whispering melancholy verses.
A symphony of solitude echoes as desolation wraps its tendrils around every thought.
My soul, a battleground where shadows duel with the faint fragments of light that remain, painting a canvas of emotional chiaroscuro.
In this haunting waltz, my heart's rhythm falters, entangled in the vines of despair.
Yet, amid the gloom, resilience may be found—a flicker of hope resisting the encroaching darkness.

My love for you is a gentle stream that flows steadily,
a quiet force shaping the landscape of my heart.
It's in the simplicity of shared, secret smiles, the comfort of your presence,
and the countless moments where your existence colours my world with warmth and happiness.

In her presence, poetry is born, as if the very air conspires to echo the splendor of her being.
She is a harmony of beauty that transcends the confines of mere words.

She doesn’t care for me.
The realization settles slowly, like a cold mist creeping in at dawn, wrapping itself around me until it chills me to the bone.

I had clung to hope, even as it unraveled thread by thread, weaving excuses and justifications out of her indifference.
But now, the truth is stark and undeniable, cutting through my illusions with a sharp, merciless edge.

It wasn’t one moment that revealed it, but a thousand small ones—the missed calls, the unreturned texts, the way her laughter never quite reached her eyes when we talked.
OI was always the one reaching out, extending my heart in hopes that she would catch it, hold it, cherish it.

But she let it slip through her fingers, as if it were no more than sand, something to be brushed away without a second thought.

I see it now, in the way she turns her attention elsewhere, her gaze drifting to anything and anyone but me. The conversations that once felt so full of promise are now just empty words, spoken out of obligation rather than affection. Her smile, once warm and inviting, has become a mask, hiding the distance that has grown between us.

She doesn’t care for me, and the weight of it is almost too much to bear.
I feel no  anger, no resentment—just a deep, aching sadness, a sorrow that settles in my chest like a stone.

I wanted to believe that I was special to her, that in me she had found something worth holding onto. But now I see that I was just another passerby in her life, a fleeting presence that she could take or leave without a second thought.

I should have seen it sooner, should have noticed the way her interest waned, the way her words became few and far between. But I was blinded by my own hope, by my own desire to believe that she cared.

I told myself that she was busy, that she had her reasons, that it was only a matter of time before she would come to me with the warmth I so desperately craved.

But she doesn’t care for Mel, and now I’m left standing in the shadow of that truth, trying to find a way to let go of the hope that has kept me hanging on for so long.
It’s a hard truth, a bitter one, but it is mine to face. And as I stand here, alone with this realization, I know that I must find a way to move forward, to reclaim the pieces of my heart that I had so willingly given to someone who never truly wanted them.

She doesn’t care for me.
And that’s ok
. I will care for myself, now.

Beneath the guise of neighborly smiles lies a cautionary tale, where trust becomes the currency of thievery.


Beware the neighbor's gentle words, for in her sweetness, she may pilfer the most precious treasure: your heart.

Like a cunning thief in the night, she’ll ****** it away, leaving behind an emptiness that echoes through the corridors of your soul.

So heed this warning, lest you fall victim to the allure of her charm, for in her embrace lies the danger of losing yourself to her whispered promises.

I miss her in the quiet of dawn,  
In the moments when the world is still,  
When the first light breaks, and I wake  
To the absence of her voice,  
A space that only she can fill.

I miss her in the pulse of the day,  
In the rush of life that pulls me along.  
Amid the noise, her silence speaks  
Louder than the crowd’s song,  
A melody only my heart knows.

I miss her in the night’s embrace,  
When darkness wraps me in solitude.  
I search for her in dreams,  
In places where love hides,  
Where my secret still blooms unseen.

Yet I hold my head high,  
For this love, though hidden, is mine.  
A love that defies the world,  
A love that stands in pride,  
For she are the one my heart chose.

I miss her with every breath,  
With a longing that cannot fade,  
But I wear this love like armour,  
With pride in every stride I take,  
For she is my secret, my strength, my heart.

In the quiet folds of my nights, where whispers of stars kiss the moon's tender cheek, I tell the world my secret: no one knows how much I love and miss her.

My heart beats an ancient rhythm, a song of longing etched into the marrow of my bones.
Each moment apart is a lifetime of echoing silence, where her absence lingers like a shadow at noon, unseen yet ever-present.

The dawn breaks, spilling golden hues over a world unaware of my silent vigil.
I breathe in the morning air, and it tastes of her memory, sweet and elusive, a fragrance that haunts my dreams.

The world spins on its careless axis, indifferent to the weight of my yearning.
They see my smile, hear my laughter, but never touch the core where she resides, a sacred flame burning through the coldest nights.

In every leaf that trembles in the wind, I find her.
In the murmur of the ocean's sigh, I hear her voice.
The world moves in a symphony of colours and sounds, but my eyes see only the spectrum of her.

My ears tune to the cadence of her whispered name.
And yet, the world remains oblivious, a vast expanse where my love is a silent scream, an invisible thread binding me to her.

If they could peer into my heart, they would see an uncharted universe, a constellation of moments where we laughed, cried, and breathed as one.

They would see the void she left, an expanse of endless night yearning for the light of her presence.
But they cannot see, cannot fathom the depths of this love, this longing that stretches beyond time and space.

So I walk among them, a keeper of secrets, a silent witness to a love that defies the boundaries of existence.
And in every step, every breath, I carry her with me, a testament to a bond unseen, unknown, yet infinitely real.

In winter’s embrace, the Clent Hills transform into a playground of frosted whispers and snow-clad laughter.
The hills, gentle yet grand, rise with a serene invitation, their slopes a canvas of pure white promise.
Beneath a sky of pale, wintry blue, sledgers gather, bundled in coats and scarves, their breath visible in the crisp, cold air.

Each step crunches underfoot, a prelude to the rush of exhilaration that awaits. The sleds, vibrant against the monochrome backdrop, are poised for flight.
Children and adults alike, eyes wide with anticipation, take their places. With a push, gravity claims its due, and they glide.

Down they go, carving ephemeral paths in the snow, each descent a fleeting journey from summit to base.
The wind kisses their cheeks, an icy caress that quickens the heart. Laughter & joy ring out, a joyous counterpoint to the silence of the sleeping hills.

The world blurs into a symphony of motion and stillness, where time slows, and the only measure is the distance covered, the thrill felt. The Clent Hills, guardians of these winter tales, stand watchful and timeless, bearing witness to the fleeting moments of pure, unadulterated joy.

As the day wanes, the sun dips low, casting long shadows that dance upon the joyous slopes.
The sledgers, weary but content, make their way home, laughter lingering, a sweet echo in the cold, still air.
And the Clent Hills, wrapped in twilight's gentle embrace, hold within them the memories of a day spent in the joyful abandon of winter's game.

My life now is spent like the last flicker of a match, burning but fading, a dim warmth that softens rather than ignites.

The days unravel quietly and in solitude ,each moment slipping like sand through my fingers—weightless, unnoticed, until I realize there’s less of it left.

I no longer chase time with the reckless hunger of my youth, nor do I greet mornings with the urgent need to carve out new paths. Instead, I linger in the in between, where silence ricochets around me.

The dreams I once built like towers stand in the distance, their glow dulled by the fog of my passing years.

The world, with all its rhythms, still hums around me, but I move slower now, regretting watching from the edges, feeling without possessing.

My life is spent, yes, but in the quiet closing of this chapter, there is a stagnant peace that rises, gentle as the last light of day.

And now it all comes back
Every wrinkle in your squinted eyes when you smiled
towards me.
Every Laugh we shared.
The short talks and sideways glances
Every absent conversation afterwards
Every Blank Stare.
Every night with a tear stained
pillow wishing you were there.
The reasons I adore you.
And the reasons why we can never be
The reasons I care and the reasons I pretend I don't.
They flood in with the remembrance that hung in your gaze.
Everything I try to erase today has now come back.
I remember you now.
I wish I could forget.
My tears won't allow me.

In the quiet chambers of my self-doubt, echoes of unworthiness linger like ghostly whispers


My heart, a fragile tapestry, woven with threads of longing, bears the weight of a narrative that whispers, "unloveable."


My wounded soul, adorned with scars, becomes a canvas where doubts paint their somber hues. A mirror reflects a search for affirmation,

My eyes perceive a canvas marked by perceived inadequacies.
In the quietest moments of the day, my soul yearns for an embrace

Crying for  a love that defies the self-imposed boundaries of unloveability,
seeking redemption in the tender arms of self-acceptance.

In the quiet shadows of my heart, unspoken words dance like delicate whispers, weaving a tapestry of emotions unseen.

A tale unfolds, where the script remains hidden, and the ink of affection remains untouched by the quill of revelation.

She, the subject of my silent sonnet, remains oblivious to the verses etched in the corridors of my soul.

Each unspoken sentiment echoes, unheard yet profound, creating a symphony of love in the uncharted realms of the unsaid.

I hear your spirit so clearly my love
It bawls at my heart and my soul  
Telling me that you are the one for me
You take  hold of me with talons of passion that have ensnared every ounce of my flesh and spirit .
Please take me my sweet
Devour me, all of me, gaze at this beating heart I hold precious for you.

Life without you is death
Death within you is eternal life
I just desire to exist in the invisible, unspoken love that I have for you.

I could write you a poem but it would never be good enough, for you are a poem

I could write that you are beautiful but my words wouldn't do you justice.

I could write how important and special you are but your value exceeds human understanding.

I could write how wonderful your mind is but my vocabulary is insufficient and weak

I could write how **** you are,
That my body belongs to you,
But my body, my self is unworthy
of you

I want to tell you how deeply I love you
But I'm unable to describe the depth of the oceans

You are the collective works of Yeats, Keats, Shelley and Tennyson.

The priest will never marry us
and my mom will never know you
but I can kiss you over a mug of  tea and dance with you under the stars and if that isn't marriage I'm not sure what God is looking for...

In the gentle embrace of a sun-kissed evening, Her presence becomes the very essence of enchantment. Her laughter, like a melody in the wind, dances with the graceful cadence of a thousand twinkling stars. Her eyes, two deep pools of blue, hold secrets only whispered to the moon, leave me lost in their captivating allure.

Every step she takes leaves an imprint on my heart, a path of warmth and tenderness. In her touch, I find solace, a connection that transcended the realms of ordinary existence. Time seems to slow in her company, as if the universe conspires to savor every stolen moment.

Her spirit, a delicate blend of strength and vulnerability, radiates a magnetic charm that draws me closer, like a moth to the flickering flame. The way she cares for others, with genuine kindness and empathy, paints her as an angel among mortals, a beacon of compassion.

Each gesture, each word she speaks, paints vivid portraits of affection on the canvas of my soul. And in the quiet corners of my mind, I dream of moments yet to come, where love would bloom like a garden of roses, and our hearts would entwine like vines in an eternal embrace.
I speak ofAnn, a name whispered in the silence of my thoughts, it carries the promise of a love story destined to be etched in the stars, forever bound in the timeless tale of two souls entwined in love's sweet embrace.

Her words piece my heart leaving a luminous stain which spread  like a red dye of passion flooding through my veins until every corpuscle glowed with a radiant luminosity of love for her.

Staring into my eyes gently she fanned these embers of love within me into flames that consumed my soul.
Words formed by her are indistinguishable.
As my heart takes control of my conscious brain

Let me enfold you in my arms!
Tenderly smother your cheeks with kisses, smell your hair and whisper words of love.
Oh but we could be together, sharing our remaining years-My Queen!
My destiny!
My eternity!!

In the vacant rooms of her home, echoes linger like melancholic ghosts, longing for her warmth that once filled the hollow spaces.

The silence, like a heavy cloak, drapes over every corner, emphasizing the void left by her absence.

Emptiness takes residence in her  vacant chair, the untouched books on  her bookshelf and the untouched memories adorning the walls.

Her house, once alive with her laughter and presence, now stands as a quiet testament to the echoes of what used to be not two days past—a seating silence yearning for her return.

Wind, you who dance through the world with no barriers, who knows the secrets of every leaf and every whispered breath—hear me now.

As you brush against my skin, gentle and unseen, I ask you to carry my love, delicate as a feather, to the one who holds my heart in secret.

Let my kisses be your passengers, riding on your back like tiny whispers of the soul, traveling through the unseen paths between us.

Move with the grace of a lover’s touch, through fields of wildflowers and over rivers that shimmer like dreams. Slip through the night’s velvet cloak, and find the one who is mine in thought but far in presence

Surround her with the warmth of my longing, the softness of my affection, until they feel the invisible embrace of my heart.

Tell her nothing, wind, for this love is ours to hold close and quiet. Simply let my kisses fall like petals at her feet, like stars at her window, until she is surrounded by all that I am and all that I give.

"It'll never amount to owt"
As they say in Yorkshire.
"Ahh mean, 'ers 'int love wit 'ere ole man
'Ant thou's married too!
Giv ova 'ant grow a pair son....."

"I know, don't you think I've been thru this a million times in my heart and head"?
"But I can't give up on her, I haven't told her my feelings, I couldn't.... She'd run a mile, and I'd lose a friend, my heart would shatter into a trillion pieces"

"Aye, but 'ere know thou's sweet 'ont 'ere"
"Lassies know such things"

"But she teases me, leads me on,flirts with me, manipulates my heart".


"Nowt good will come of it I'm tellin' ye,
It'll all end 'int tears...probably yers too"

"I know that at my age I should know betta,
But no age is exempt to love"
I cling to hope,
Each and any crumb that might Indicate that she'll allow me to hold her in my arms
And kiss her..."

"So take your Yorkshire logic,
Your Northern pragmatism,
I can't see the wood for the trees in this 'affair' I know
But I live in hope that one day
She'll tell me that she loves me..."

You're always in my heart, a quiet echo that fills the spaces between each beat. In the pause before breath, you linger, woven into the fabric of my being like a thread of light through the soft shadows of evening.

You’re the unspoken thought at the edge of my mind, present even in your absence, a presence that colours everything I see. Even when the world turns chaotic, there you are, steady as a whisper, constant as the sky.

My thoughts drift to you like a river to the sea, inevitable, as natural as the pull of the moon on tides. Always, you are there, not as a distant memory or fleeting dream, but as a truth that anchors me.