Pastel blue sky longing to
Hang over wheat;
There is only grass.
Green.
Green with envy at white clouds as
They pass.

                  (A different journey)

Poplars strive to touch
Shrunken, grey clouds that
Recoil at the very sight.
Ah, the plight of an
Innocent gesture.

               (Nowhere else to go)

Wind snears:
My train moves it so.
Grass is merely in the past
As I am slung
To and fro.

                          *

The seat next to me is empty. A passenger of invisibility kindly agrees for my bag to rest on their featherlight lap. Reservations elsewhere have been made.
Durham can wait.

                            *

In my lecture, there were four empty seats next to me. All other rows were full.

                            *

Last Monday, I got ****** at Stone Roses Bar. Stumbled along to ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor.’
Hands were all over me:
Creeping and
Touching.

                     Why is it that when
I want company, it flees?

When I embrace
                            Loneliness,

             It molests me.

Gale looked outward.
Stared dead at the tyrant approaching.
The wind did not chill her;
She chilled the wind.
Haunted it.

Whenever it blew you could be sure
She’d be there, standing against it:

Standing like a poplar-
No, taller-
Drinking wine in the embers,
A tree that fought the enemy.

Cries carried on a breeze,
Watching the world
As it falls to its knees
Because Gale won’t be
Felled.

She’s a force to be reckoned with.

Outside of the library,
On a wet, wet day,
You smiled and said
'I love you'
Before walking away
Towards the platform, where you depart,
And I know that I will always feel this way
About you.

You run your fingers through my hair and with them bring
The cool, fresh air that
I have longed for, all throughout the
Winter.

The green flecks and
The blue hues of your eyes
Connect you to this current season:
Springtime.
Through your warmth and light,
You have given me
New life.

I have been told that said eyes are the window to the soul, so
When we kiss we must never keep our eyes closed;
An exchange of hearts for an exchange of souls that will continue, and
Never grow old.

i'm an open book with torn out pages,
misprints, flaws stained in ink,
looking for a patient editor.

but it's hard to hold you,
when the night is still young,
and i'm shaking, twisting, turning.

this heart of mine, forever inclined,
to find the one that sates this hunger,
the burning desire of wonder.

novel feelings of unending love,
lust that singes and burns the pages,
from lips, tongues, fingers, that sing a sweet praise.

yet all i find is one more tedious lie,
a heart half gone and yearning for another,
or simply a waste of time.

if only i could find you,
and take your hand,
surely our souls would bleed into the sand.

instead,
here i am,
waiting for rain.