once these deeds were beauty,
your words love,
now without light,
polluted you wander,
disgusting with shame on your shoulders.

You changed
it's almost like
you never had wings

I think about your old haircut and
I miss muddy torn up shoes;
scuffed canvas, stained laces.
The tote-bag with a badge patchwork
forgotten in your house, now an identically
rigid, faux-leather
handbag. Homogeneous.

Your eyes narrow when I laugh too
hard, at something we used to like. You
wince and turn away,
behind your freshly highlighted hair.
You cut off the last of the
colour you'd begged for. You tell
me you never cared for the
things we used to love, so
I shut my mouth
and grapple with your change.

I wrote you a letter, handwritten and
hand folded, in tea-stained paper
and ****** red ink,
my heart displayed for you. You pinned it
up against your mirror. Sun bleached
and binned. The text message you
returned to me deleted itself last year.

I think about the rips in your tights
and the dirt under your fingernails
and search;
but find manicured perfection masking
any remains. I paint my nails and
mourn the friendship
we had, while you sit down and smile
beside me each morning.
You've polished your gemstones
into mirrors.

Why are you so desperate to ****
the girls we used to be?

Today I took
The long way home
Added a few extra miles
To my beat up VW while
Listening to some oldies
And watching the sun rays
Gently finding their way
Through the trees before
Fading in the horizon

Today I took
The time to see past the
Darkness I was plunged in
To appreciate there's beauty
In the perpetual changes of life
For most things might never
Be as they once were
But what matters
Will remain...

Waking up every day of my life, pushing the pain way down low.
Trying to chip out the tiniest of smiles, just enough so it will show.

Feeling hopeless, future now gone, missing the things that give joy.
Wishing that I, could find this great man, that grew from inside of this boy.

The sadness inside me and loss that I felt, jabbing and stabbing my heart.
Hoping each day, that I die in some way, that will reset all life from the start.

Blinded from seeing the tools all around, ones that could help me along.
Digging myself out of messes I made, required the need to be strong.  

Years have flown by, all those feelings now gone, no longer do I wish to be dead.
The pain and struggles that were deep inside me, have quit being stuck in my head.

Now it's ideas and people I love, to think about when I'm awake.
Since I've let go of the hurt left inside, the rest of this life is just cake.

At one time
I would scour the skies
looking for the moon, the stars
and some odd galaxy

But now, distant as I am
And wont to hide
I wonder if they scour the earth
And look for me

Does your heart still feel like it did in August, a time when every word trembled with the weight of goodbye? When your tears fell like a relentless storm, and every poem you wrote ached with the words you couldn’t speak aloud. Do those words still linger in your heart, etched deeply, or have they begun to fade? Do you still hold me close in your thoughts, or has your grip loosened, like sand slipping through your fingers? Do you still ache for me in my absence, the way you once did when the thought of being apart was unbearable? I’ve read every poem you poured your heart into, each one pulsing with a love so fierce it refused to let go, even when the cracks in our love threatened to break us. Even goodbyes felt incomplete, as if our bond couldn’t truly be severed. But now, I’m left wondering, has time softened your love? Does the thought of me still burn as brightly in your chest, or have the flames dimmed, the fire fading to embers? Has your love for me grown or faltered? I find myself asking: Does your heart still feel like it did in August? Do you still love me with that same depth and intensity?

things go missing,
lost somewhere between
then and now.
and the rest is history,
and all that you can do is try
to outrun the rising tide.
oh, to be carried away,
to be buried in your own garden.
if you cling to the things
you can't change,
that's the first mistake.
but the rest is already swallowed,
swept by the rising tide.
things go missing,
lost somewhere between
you and i,
reshaping history,
rewriting time
all the time.