I spend my days thinking and worrying of whats to come
When I told myself there was plenty of time,
but now that time is nearly gone.
The new responsibilities I have the things I need to do,
are all very new.
the future once was something I looked forward too
but now it is a daunting task waiting to be completed
my hope and patience has depleted.
My life has turned into a routine
I promised myself I wouldn't let happen
I don't live my days content just a little saddened.
How can I describe this numbness I feel
when I begin to question everything I knew for sure was
a passion and what was actual real.
Is this what has become of my life?
twisting and turning not being able to sleep at night.
the people who happily come and go as they please
leave me with nothing but bad, bitter memories.
How do I change the predicament I'm in?
Maybe tomorrow or maybe the next day wont be the same.

The not so quiet night.
Whilst I write to you
There’s snores coming from the next room.
There’s wind howling at my window begging to be let in.
There’s the tapping of the keys beneath my fingers
And this sort of silent buzz that tells me I should be asleep.

I miss a warm body laying next to mine.
My single bed has never felt so lonely.
I long to wake to you wrapped around me like a cocoon
tight enough for me to know that you are too scared to lose me.
Holding on because you don’t want to fall.
I want to wake to you as if I’m unraveling from my cocoon
A beautiful mess.
Hair sprawled out on the pillow because there’s no room
To on the bed.
I want to see that cheeky little smile.
That magical glint in your eye
That reassures me of what’s to happen next.

As emotion overthrew me
I'd never felt so alive.
even if that emotion was pure hatred that rested inside.
I ran until my legs and lungs give in.
I collapse on a bench and feel the burning pain that resides in my chest.
The cold winds hit me
but the tears warm my face.
I made a promise to myself that night
and till this day it remains.

Something is not right.
No something is very wrong.
I could once fall in love so easily like the rest
like I was falling in love for the first time over and over again.
But this has stopped.
I no longer trust.
nor believe I can love like that again.
I hate you for taking this away from me.
I never once truly believed in a future with anyone really
till you came along and changed me.
I believed every word you said
when you got on one knee and promised me a future
no the world.
how could I be so naive.
I keep shooting myself in the foot
and thinking of what ifs and what could of been.
If I had done something different.
So I can just stand here
but I cannot admire the view it is barricaded  
with thoughts of you.
I thought this aching pain would leave.
Would bleed from my soul until i was finally free.

To that girl thats sits alone eating lunch
can I join you?
To that girl that goes shopping in them old thrift stores
can I join you?
To that girl who wears them badges and will happily support and fight for her rights
can I join you?
To that girl who paints so beautifully
can I join you?
To that girl.
No to every girl who thinks they may be alone in this world.
Who gets too absorbed into their work not in hopes of awareness or awards.
Because thats the only way she knows how to feel anymore.
Because its the only way she knows how to survive.
Yet the only thing she thinks she is missing
that will drive her crazy
is that she has no one to share this world with.
For them to appreciate what you give to the world and how little you take.
For someone to love you and what you do.
As much as the passion
you share for that one thing
you cannot live without.

Everything you left
I kept.
Those letters you wrote
I kept.
Those clothes you left
I kept.
That look we shared before you left
I kept.
The things you said  
I kept.
That feeling you caused when I know this was the end
I kept.
That goodbye I never got
I kept.
The last time I saw you was on Skype
we both cried
I kept.
The love we had
I lost.

Know anything about Idealism?
it says reality is made up of minds and ideas.
Theres a branch which says
reality is made up of my ideas
but alas I know that cannot be true.
why would I create a world like this
its like I don't exist.
if the world is not some branch of idealism
maybe if it is
these ideas belong to someone else.
maybe a sick sociopath who likes to torture and watch me cry.
But he or she is merciful
so I don't cry every night.
Why put me in a world and make me something thats probably as controversial as the existence of god.
For if you are my creator you would go by a different name
one that would probably put Satans to shame.

I could walk in there naked
but they still wouldn't look.
set myself on fire
I'd still go amiss.
walk in with a gun they would probably
laugh in my face.
I want to scream.
I can dance like know one is watching because no one is.
In a club with all these people
but I may as well be here on my own.
I could shave all my hair off paint myself green walk in and go amiss
I once read a famous quote that said to be perceived is to exist
so where does that leave me?

Give me writers block
and I will still be better with words than her.
Because she may know the right things to say to you.
But at least I mean them
and that means more than she should mean to you.
But alas we romanticise and pray
for words we one day want to hear.
We all know these words
she does too.
Just be careful because when she says them better
than me I know they will never be
true.
She can never mean them not like
I mean them when I say
I love you.

I don't believe in a heaven or a hell.
I believe when we die we fall asleep.
Never to wake again.
never to dream
you don't notice really.
Its my little fantasy.
I do not wish to be judged.
To either be forever tortured by the flames that come from the ground
or to be blissfully resting upon a cloud.
I find I cannot sleep to long my head starts to hurt.
This is my body telling me I've passed my limit.
So I imagine what it would be like to pass my limits and not suffer the wrath of a migraine.
To not dream
to just sleep for eternity.
I will never look anything like snow white
but at least I will be happy.

I'm stuck here.
Forever in this moment in time.
I feel like peter pan
never growing old.
All these things I want to achieve
just dangling in front of me.
If I bite just one.
Then the waiting game
begins.
Round and round I go
where it stops I will not know.

That smile.
Those eyes.
Those round lips.
These are the things I see before
I go to sleep.
If I were to try and cry right now
no tears would fall.
Stuck feeling empty
as an old wine bottle.
the good thing inside is now all gone.
Just  this sort of lost girl
in the middle of it all.
Im sorry Im not making much sense
just writing what comes and goes.
Up up and away
my thoughts are in the clouds.
But I really just wanted
to write a poem today.

I may not be Shakespeare with a quil
no mind a keyboard or a pen.
I work with what I have even if its a bad vocab.
To which I may bore and so follows my bad grammar and punctuation
I've really got it all.
So just
scroll
scroll
scroll.
Ignore the words I bleed on to the page.
Call it a waste of time a waste of ink.
its just nice to know maybe someone will read this
even if its not appreciated.

Nothing can compare
to the smell and feel of an old book.
Hidden away in a old store.
The smell of dust and age
that lays on the pages someone has held before.
the places it has been.
From coffee shop tables
to trains
bedrooms
maybe even a few floors.
More stories to the book than that
of which the words that lay on the page.
Folded corners and other kinds of stains.
No nothing can compare to an old book.
You can keep your ebooks and kindles
thank you very much.
You cannot recommend
what I might find
in that old store.

Sleep deprived.
Its 2.30 in the morning
and im smiling to myself like an idiot over someone else’s love story.
Sometimes I fear the closest I will ever get to the feeling of love or being loved will always be found in written words or acted out in movies.
Pure and typical escapism at its best.
Always trying to find a way to have something you always crave for deeply.
When the world is telling you no
you need to be a strong independent woman and all you do is end up relying on others for this sort of love they can give you.
Which you cannot give yourself.
It’s rather sad really seeing as the truth is we all die alone.
We humans always crave something we cannot have
when we have what we believe is everything we end up being wrong.
Money cant buy you everything.
Love can’t get you everything.
Having a lot of friends doesn't necessarily mean you are liked and will be remembered.
So if you could live as a strong independent being would you?
Or do you secretly like this graving for attention, affection?  
Yet at the same time it hurts just like having that last piece of cheese cake when you know you shouldn't.
You will feel worse afterwards for breaking your so called diet
But you really want them few minutes of pleasure that you dearly miss.
When that cheesecake rests in your mouth.
Until the last bite and then its gone
and all that is left is that feeling of regret and guilt.

The heart is a puzzle to many
But think of it as a jigsaw piece.
Certain ones fit.
Certain ones break.
And certain ones piece everything together
And make it complete.
And just maybe for the pieces that broke
Or didn't quite fit
We found ourselves taking something away from it.
That lets us get a clear picture of what the puzzle is
So then eventually we will know what the puzzle looks like
We will know who why and maybe when
we will find that perfect piece.

A hunger I long to fill
But not with wine
Or food.
A longing stare
Eyes that meet across a room.
A flutter.
A laugh.
A cry.
A glance in the right direction.
I ‘m drawn to you in a way the paper burns as soon as it touches the flames.
If I go to close I know I will cease to exist
To go on further more.
To wither away like a rose
As I change colour and my petals fall.
This love was not meant to last
It will just perish like another flower like another rose.