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sheila sharpe Jun 2021
Check the photos on her phone
with your footsteps echo hers
watch through her window
is she really alone?

Listen to her plundered playlist as she mingles
with the nightlife's busy, chattering throng
does it still play your together song
sheila sharpe Jun 2021
plastic cups and bottles
cigarette stubs and ash
and scattered powder
heaped as white as snow
amid bunched and ***** bank notes
and piles of wine washed cash

Upon a cracked and half-full crystal glass
A smear of lipstick flashed as red as rubies
and there, upon the littered, dusty floor
lay banana peels and half-eaten apple cores

The blonde girl, with the ashen face
painted nails, and scarlet bee-stung lips
lay there amid the crushed potato crisps
and the flattened curry sauce smeared chips

Her eyes, dilated pupils shrouding grey
stared upward at the rain washed light
of Wintery day, filtering through each
hand -smeared cobwebbed window pane
at light that she would never see again

That morning, after the party, the room was quiet as death
disturbed by a black moth that flew from behind the curtain
settling upon her face, brushing lips parted with her final breath
sheila sharpe Jun 2021
Sadness is a burden
Sadness is a weighted rope
Sadness is a black hole
Sadness is the absence of
all joy and hope
Sadness is a moth fluttering
inside the darkness of a broken heart
Sadness is a crawling centipede
its seemingly endless creeping feet
tearing your insides apart
Sadness is a leaf left
to rot upon the earth
Sad ness is a fetus never
given birth
Sadness is the absence
of softly shining light
Sadness is the need to flee
with never the chance to take flight
Sadness is the rose
with no perfume and no petals
just a broken stem of thorns
Sadness is the lonely bird
that sings a plaintive song
in the darkness of a thousand
winter dawns
sheila sharpe Jun 2021
they do not see the differences
beneath the fine cloak of skin
the brain that is wired a different way
so altering the thoughts within
the eyes that look seemingly far beyond
those of others e-en face to face
the legs and the feet that,
though seeming fine
hurt to keep up the pace
they choose only to see
the outward appearance
not what can lie beneath
all the daunting differences
that the body can bequeath
nor do they hear the
weeping
when nastiness is heard
and they cannot comprehend
how cutting can be
the unthinking word
sheila sharpe Jun 2021
the cosy little nest that she had made
of their relationship is empty
the straws at which she had
one clutched
strewn all around her
now she runs around as
a headless chicken would
trampling on the empty eggshells
she now recognises
as his promises of eternal love
sheila sharpe Jun 2021
Kindness calms a cry
it is the smile that turns tears to laughter
the caress that wraps a warm duvet
around a cold, cold world
sheila sharpe Jun 2021
There, in grey depths of minds
enveloped in anxiety
subterranean fears arise

Flooded by tsunami's of fear
the little grey cells
die, clasped in Corona's
crustacean grasp

Author note
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