I love
      the safeness
                        and the coldness
                                               of your smile

Sometimes life presents challenges,
which at the time may seem small,
but instead, appear insurmountable.
Finding true love is one of the hardest
tasks that humankind, as a whole, faces.

Many see love as pure fantasy,
reciprocal, requited, and unconditional,
as true love is meant to be.
This kind of love brings contentment,
and internal peace, which can be unlike
any euphoria you have ever felt.

This love intoxicates and exhilarates.
It will lift you higher
than the tallest mountain,
and make you feel fuller
than the deepest ocean.
This love will make you feel whole,
and complete, with the
joining together of two lost,
lonely souls, once wondering adrift.
in an union that fulfills.

But, for a select few, this ideal of fantasy is
more of a reality filled with heartache.
That same reality can bring us to our knees,
and the pain alone can smother us,
to the point of not being able to breathe.
Then comes the constant cycle of hurt,
emptiness,  and anger, which draws us back
to the source which has caused such emotion.
It leaves us begging for the pain to stop;
sometimes making us yearn, to once again, be with
the one who has caused us to feel such turmoil.

It is an addiction unlike any other,
caused by the fear of being alone
and starting anew.
We now find ourselves
sacrificing our own self,
to maintain a sense of familiarity and safeness.
Not realizing, but instead blinded by memories,
that this reality is showing us that it
was just not meant to be.

It takes time to mend a broken heart;
time on our own,  to discover our true self-worth;
time to realize that love will find us again.
We will encounter a struggle, unlike another,
to overcome our fears of distrust and vulnerability.
Many lessons will be learnt, along the way.
But, with strength and perseverance,
all of the time spent healing,
will open our heart to a brand new beginning, one day.

First, we must realize, that deep within our own self
lies the ashes of our once brilliantly burning heart.
Only with time, will our pain become manageable.
Yet, we will always wear
the scars of a love gone bad,
as an embattled soldier wears his own, from a war lost.
But, choosing to not allow this to consume oneself,
is a true challenge, in itself.

In the end, deciding when we have had enough,
is what will allow the reopening of our heart.
We must learn, to not allow the pain to truly hide
the one thing that lies right in front of us – opportunity.
Sometimes this opportunity,
is a new love, that is more fitting than the last.
A new love, one that will ease
the loneliness that
envelopes us like a blanket;
a new start with someone who can
love, respect, cherish,
and adore us,
more than any ghost of our past.

We all have the power to turn
our reality into fantasy.
However, never lose sight,
that even true love is not perfect,
and neither are we.
We all make mistakes; we will disappoint.
Not all of us will possess the means, or desire,
to hurt another on purpose.

It is the search for a soul, that mirrors our own,
which will be the hardest struggle.
This struggle can be won with one true fact -
not all people are alike.
Once we open our mind, and our heart, to this,
all fears and inhibitions will melt away,
as the sun melts the snow, in early Spring.

With this sign of rebirth,
our new love will be unlike
all we have experienced before.
But, we must never allow our past
to dictate our present,
which will ultimately decide our future.
We must find that power within ourselves,
to overcome the reality,
by embracing, and enjoying,
the new adventure, and path,
we are about to undertake.


Vicki A. Zinn

February 2011

I have always been known as the person who remembers everything.* Not just big and major things, even the small ones. Every time my family and I are going on adventures I am the one who remembers the place and the travel route. When we went out of town one time I can still remember when we asked a man in the streets for directions and it turned out he told us the wrong way, and me, being the scared little child, I was asking for my mom to just drive back and go home. Fortunately, we arrived to our destination and I remember that it was 12 am when we got there and I was too tired to function. I still remember the name of the resort we stayed in, I remember the design of the swimsuit I was wearing, it has the number 21 in it, and I remember posing for a photo where I was wearing goggles and I made it my profile picture on Facebook. I remember the name of one hotel in that town was similar to my ex crush’s last name that’s why my sisters were teasing me about it.

That one time we joined a halloween costume contest and my costume was a cheerleader (cheerleader in Glee, specifically speaking) and my sister went as a ballerina but we all know that wasn’t a costume because she is also a ballerina in real life. I knew she never wanted to go with me, but as usual, i needed someone to be with. I remember the costumes that the people were wearing, that the white lady was the one who won the best in costume. I remember how sweet the halloween candies were. I remember that a stranger took a picture of us, and me, being the usual one who overthinks, got scared and asked my sister if we could leave already.

I remember going to the mall with my sister before and I accidentally stepped on a lady’s foot and she got so angry with me and I became frightened. I remember ordering a green mango shake and didn’t finish it because it was too sour, and then my mother scolded me and until now she’s still bringing that up whenever I try to order a shake. I remember watching A Series Of Unfortunate Events one Christmas and after that I became obsessed with it and it was the only thing I’ve watched for weeks. I remember the girl I met in a cafe, she was wearing a yellow dress and **** I remember her smile was brighter than the sun. I remember all the things that happened the night I lost my concert virginity, it happened January 24, 2015 and when they played my favourite songs it felt like home. I remember the perfume I was wearing when I had a date with one guy so whenever I smell it I will always remember his eyes.

I can still remember the song that was playing the night when we were dancing, the night where it started it all, and baby, I remember how you took my hand and suddenly I felt electricity in my body. I remember being at a friend’s house after that night and when she tried to show me photos of us I couldn’t look at them without smiling and thinking of the feeling you gave me. I remember spending a lot of nights thinking of you and promising myself I wouldn’t fall and that was when I knew everything was going to be a mess. I remember the night when there was a storm and you texted me and asked how was I doing, and then the following days consisted of us texting each other. I remember one afternoon when you asked me if I could be yours and you could be mine, I remember the nervousness in your voice and the way you were scared for the answer I was about to say, and I also remember the happiness in your face when I answered your question. I remember feeling contented with everything when our fingers intertwined and I remember feeling safeness when your arms were wrapped around my body. If I would tell all the things I remember then this poem wouldn’t be finished and will be proclaimed as the longest poem that was ever written. But one thing is for sure, I remember it, all.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t remember the pain. I remember how it hurt the first time you lied to me and how your apology suddenly removed all the pain away. I remember how I asked you if you’re giving up on me already and you just told me you didn’t know. I remember the days we didn’t talk to each other and I spent my nights crying myself to sleep and when we finally talked, it didn’t feel the same. I remember you getting too tired to fix my broken pieces because you have been wounded by them so bad so you just walked away and left them even more broken than before. I remember your hands that were too strong before, too strong to hold me, I remember how I made them weak that’s why you can’t hold on to mine anymore and had to let go of your tight grip. I remember you replacing the word ‘promise' with ‘sorry’, ‘I am always here’ with ‘I wish I was there for you’, ‘I would never leave you’ with ‘I guess this is goodbye.’ I remember you leaving, like everybody else does. I vividly remember it.

But what bugs me the most is that I couldn’t remember some things, I was known as the person who remembers everything but then there came things that I couldn’t recall, even some moments of them. I couldn’t remember the sincerity in your eyes when you told me I was beautiful, I couldn’t remember you being there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on, I couldn’t remember how you would do everything just to ease the pain, I remember you telling me you love me but I couldn’t remember you meaning it. It bothers me how I remember the smallest details in everything, how I could remember the colour of my first iPhone case, the meal I ate when I was 7 years old and watching my favourite cartoons, the t-shirt I wore on a birthday party before. But I couldn’t remember the things that were worth remembering.

And then it hit me, epiphany hit me.  **I only remember the things that really happened. I only remember the things that were real. I only remember the things that were true.

Here is your handyman, to fix your heart
And each and every feeling ,which is broken apart
Caused by desolation ,and intense amount of pain
Now I'll help you stop,thy tears of rain

You don't need to tell, how broken you are
I can feel your pain,without seeing thy scar
Just free away  your soul, and let it have a  say
The pain it dwelled inside,for someone to hay

Now I am here for you,to free you from the ails
To give you all my love,and extract your gloomy wails
So come cuddle with me,inside the blanket of safeness
So that I can kiss your forehead ,and take away thy stress...

Free Writing

How curious to be told
to write freely,
to ‘do’ free writing,
and then be given a subject!
That’s unfreeing my freedom.

Thank you, but
I don’t want to think
about this time last year.
As September was
September is,
brim-full of wondrous light
now flowing ‘cross this table
as I write – as freely as I can.

Nobody is going to tell me
to write freely and then
give me a subject, tell me
to write for two minutes
then give me five.


The Memorial Hall

There was a continuity of safeness
in these grounds that frame
this unfortunate building.
Memorable and unforgettable,
the ‘Mem’ Hall was a travesty
by Clough William Ellis.
All balustrades and pineapples,
his signature touch, chosen
it’s said (this architect that is)
because he designed the Bath Club pool
whose famous cup this swimming school
inevitably won year upon year.


Walking with Alice

Grey day this Sunday
And a morning walk
Through the estate
To the edge of fields,

You here to collect
The season’s fruits,
Not to eat,
But for the dyer’s vat.

And I, just to crunch
My boot on stubble
And cross the wide acres
Ready for the plough.


For Jeanette

Her last day in Amsterdam
and a brief break from the Powerbook;
she was playing the flâneur.
In the late afternoon
she came across this painting
in a window, in a gallery
at Van Ostadestraat 294.

She was transfixed.
The painting demanded her attention
and her time. After an hour
(and it was by then nearly dark)
she returned to her hotel
and cancelled her flight home.

For the next three days
she went back to the painting
in a window, in a gallery
in Van Ostadestraat 294.

She had begun to learn to look,
not glance, but look, to stand still
for an hour or more - and look.

She was rewarded by a world of detail
no glance could have brought forth.
She was transfixed.
She was transformed.


Red Point

Leaving the fishing station
to the cows on the beach
through each kissing gate
we passed, we kissed.
The steep road ahead
with the horse and the boy
hid our cabin home.
The sea channel,
the red sand,
the distant rain
glanced us by.


To my children**

You’re out there
Living famously
All the way down
And back again.
I do think of you
As birthdays pass
And Christmas letters
Demand attention.
You’re out there
To represent my way
Of baking bread,
Sailing the boat,
Walking too fast,
Winning at Go.
Whether in Qatar,
Kansas City or Deptford
You’re me in disguise.

He was just completing the drying up after tea when he heard a murmuring from the hallway. The sound of the voice made him listen over the chatter of the early evening radio. One of the girls read a story, a bedtime story. He listened. It was about two bears, part of the usual get ready for bed routine; pyjamas, supper, teeth, bed, story, prayers, nighty-night.

He went to the bottom step on the stairs. They were on the third page now. Mum sat on the stairs, knees up, hands under chin, elbows in lap. She smiled down at Dad while their fifteen year old daughter read, her voice became more animated as the story progressed.

They both listened to the end and made play by pretending to have fallen asleep. He was now sitting beside his wife as the story ended. It was now their other daughters turn to read one of her favourites. About a Tiger.

It had been a long time. A long time since those books were opened, a long time since they we're read aloud and that reading aloud unlocked memories, a warm sense of routine, familiarity and the safeness it brought at the end of a long day when everyone was ready to rest.

This was also a new time now. Their girls reading their old bedtime stories. It felt to him like an echo of that past, yet another stage had been reached; they were growing up too fast.

To answer your question,
Yes.

It never left me.

It sits patiently at the sidelines on sunny days.
It doesn't fight formy attention.
It doesn't book off days in my calender.

It smiles when I smile.
It laughs when I laugh.
It knows that all It has to do
Is wait for the overcast.

A ceiling of clouds closing in on me.
Day after day, the raindrops won't come.
Each grey morning looks a little darker than the last.

Until, atlast:
The first tear hits the ground.

And It is there, immediately.
Offering escape.

At first, I'll refuse.
"Never again."
I meant what I said.
I will not break my promise.

But as the hours go by,
It becomes more obvious.
The rain does not want to let up.

And there It is,
Reminding me of Its offer of solution.
It promises that Its affections are just as strong as always.

I want to pull away,
But I can't deny the safeness that calls to me,
Awaiting beneath the umbrella.

The calmness I feel spreading from the burn where It grips my skin.

The storm passes,
Leaving nothing but a colourful mess to clean up.

I don't expect you to understand.
But then again,
I don't expect you to find out.

"Never again."
I'd meant what I said.

But it's so easy to think that It will never hurt you.
Not the way It hurts me when all I have is loneliness for company.

So, to answer your question,
Yes.

And if you ever bothered to check, you'd see.
It forever waits on my company.

It laughs when I laugh.
It cries when I cry.
But maybe It would give up and leave,
If you too never left my side.

The threat of relapse is always on my mind,
Its a dream,
And a wish,
To go back to that "safeness" that I once felt.
I miss it,
But I push it to the back of my mind,
And struggle up the mountain,
Until I reach the top.

Legs quiver
Hands tremble
I'm waiting for you to deliver
I'm soaking

Pressing your head into my chest
Biting my stomach and thighs
Please don't judge I'm looking a mess

I'm begging now
Please
Don't stop
Harder faster deeper
I feel I'm about to pop

No stop!
Why would you do that
I hate being on top
Not a **** angle

But wait
It feels oh so good
I hear you
Your breathing
I can tell you like this steady grind

Roll me over
Finishing this night
Now were snug
I feel the safeness in your heartbeat