The world has moved on and I am fixated on one **** detail. A blank stare that lasted maybe two seconds before he carried on with his work. The look was indescribable because the expression was void of emotion. This is incredibly ridiculous, but I am so horrifically bothered by it. That **** expression. This **** minor occurrence has somehow managed to ruin my day. But here's the thing - this is routine for me. I know myself too well. I will be incredibly self-conscious from now on in that space. So many things go past that man, but my stupid digressions didn't. I am a victim of over-analysis. I will patiently wait for the day my memory will finally let this go.
Thick, warm, fuzzy air
Radiates against your skin, making you want to doze off
You sit on the front of a low red car that looks another era, leaning on the glossy hood.
I want to put your lips on mine
The world feels yellow, and orange.
It's as if clear smoke has filled the air
My eyes are dimmed through thick sunglasses, my body absorbing the warmth through jeans and a small black shirt
I'm in a lucid daze
Looking at you through a curtain of straight black hair, not bothered to move it from my face.
You're eyes the crisp refreshing blue in a world tinted amber
Like fresh water, so cooling as I gaze in them.
Like a spray of water on your back
After hours of sunbathing
We sit there
We say nothing
We take in the sun
We don't need anything else
I'll never forget
That cozy coffee shop
Where u & I had first met....
I remember I had run
Behind ur car
Under that beautiful sun....
Heart was overjoyed
U had lowered the window glass
I saw ur lips smiled...
I had gotten late
Ran to reach the cafe
Meeting u was our fate...
When i saw ur face
I was taken aback
Time had stopped,
U had dazzled in black...
Those eyelashes killed
Once u looked at me
The place, warmth with filled
I remember v had coffee ordered
For a long time none of us talked
As none of us had even bothered ...
The silence turned musical
When u had asked,
"How are u Faisal???"
I remember i had laughed so much
Listening to ur small jokes
"That faujis do such & such...."
It seemed time moved slow
While we talked & talked
Amidst slowly falling snow.....
I had seen u off & cast a final gaze
Ur car had moved
Cant forget ur beautiful face....
Wish life was a smooth ride
Wish v had never parted
& u were by my side.....
The misty fog outside,
condenses into a speckled bedroom glass.
nestled deep under the blanket,
I hear the orchestra of a rainy 8am life.
Bothered by the unconducted iso-rhythms
of dripping water droplets,
dropping onto the metal window sill,
I peak my head out from under the duvet
and yawn out the stale air from my lungs.
I notice the coffee left for me
on the bedside table before she left.
I grasp the warm little blue cup.
I hear the birds in the trees somewhere below
warming up their sleepy little lungs.
I close my eyes and feel the cold air
through the window.
Hiding under my duvet,
I drift back to sleep.
Are you bothered yet ?
By the abandonment of truth .
You can bottle it,
Preserve his innocence
In your eyes but everybody is aware of what he likes to do .
Never tongue-tied ,
And a smile that takes you miles away from the room .
Invitations but no arrivals
Tonight he promised a message( or even a phone call)
He buys you ice cream to watch you lick it up
And he gives you money to change the way you look.
Summer days and heatwaves
Sweat pouring down our skin
Working hard no time to rest
From the time the day begins.
Bailing hay without a shade
Not a single cloud insight
Gathering all the barely corn
We work until the night.
we have a little hideaway
A place down in the vale
Its where we drink some scrumpy
Along with beer and ale.
We while away an hour or more
Depending on how we feel
We rest and take it easy
No sound from the tractors wheel.
Now tomorrow is another day
Our work load it will keep
We may be striming hedge grows
Or we may be shearing sheep.
But we really are not bothered
We've been farmers far too long
We carry out our dutys
And sometimes with a song.
Our lives are hard but simple
We are living the country life
Away from the city and the fumes
From cars and such alike.
You see we have this hideaway
A little place down in the vale
So come along and join us
At the end of a farmers day
Feeling the affects of the British heatwave
Made me feel just how it must be for the farmers with all the heat.
Under the sheets of emotional armor,
A shy little girl masquerades as a martyr.
She’s the Queen of Deceit with her lies getting smarter,
While every tale told draws her self even farther
From finding out why she’s emotionally bothered
By all of the men in her life: like her father
Who only was trying the best for his daughter
And striving to be something more than a pauper
But coming up short. Who knows how much harder
He’d try if she wasn’t an argument starter?
The guilt and the shame from the family slaughter
Has made her insane and continues to bar her
From finding out just what the world has to offer.
Luckily she won’t have to be here much longer;
In fairy-tale land, there's nothing can harm her.
She suddenly finds herself all alone
With nobody’s thoughts to address but her own.
This is the time when she’d pick up the phone,
Demanding a savior to hear her bemoan
About all the problems that she’s ever known,
But what she doesn’t know is a friend can’t atone
For the lack of a man with his patience to loan
To a lost little girl whose bad temper is known.
All she needs is a strong one that doesn’t condone
All the treacherous lies and the hatred she’s shown.
It’s hard to deny all the reaping she’s sewn.
She’ll have to tread soft lest her cover is blown
And everyone finds out she still hasn’t grown
Through the hundreds of tempers and tantrums she’s thrown.
Hopefully soon she can bury the bone
And calm herself into a nostalgic zone
Where smiles and candles were filling her home
And love and affection were all that was loaned.
Enlightenment comes when you realize you’re prone
To the wrath of the heartache that comes with the throne.
Damsel in distress
you didn't quite break me in two yet
the slow nights walking around
you not taking me out on dates
never bothered me at all
hope you're not
giving the memories away to the birds
my hair is getting too long, been living lately
the shoes at the door, i'm running outside barefoot
you say i look fine
and everything is so simple around you
i wonder where to give your love away
because there's still a part of me that feels for you
had my birthday last year, the worst day of my life
probation over dumb things
picked up poetry, you say you love it
alone in the house without you
old af poem
I could tell you the exact day I became complacent
I can recall the way he parted his hair and the way he touched a steering wheel and the color of his eyes
And how he cared enough about me to make sure I didn't drink and drive
But not enough to stop mixing my drinks all night
And since I can't stand up for myself, he watched as I fell apart
I am a marionette with a broken string but ****, he's a master in the art
Constantly moving me; bending my frame and pulling my wires
And keeping me onstage whenever he desires
But it's hard for me to play my part and keep up with my lines
When I come home smelling like a different cologne each night
When I am just an empty canister he keeps bringing to his lips
Begging and pleading me to offer him something with purpose
But it's always the same story:
He fabricates me
I break and I bleed under his idea of my self discovery
And my selfish idea of recovery
Out of every sweet name or ***** word he's ever called me
I think I've found that "Lonely" is my favorite thing to be
I haven't lit a cigarette in weeks, but tonight I'll light three;
One for him, one for me, and one for the person I swore I would never be
My biggest flaw is that when I settled for feeling comfortable,
When I settled for what he told me I was
I never even bothered learning self-love
The riled route master and the hacked off hackney carriage weren't bothered by the boris bike, they simply barreled along the bus lane oblivious to the wobble, blind to the blindsided and bent on beating the amber to red, til they were halted by the growth factor of a chelsea tractor straddling lanes and field testing the choice of right or left and failing the screen test set by the sat nav, thereby giving opportunity to the swarm of office staffers snatching their chance and chancing their luck, dancing past with their fat chance of swiping in before nine and avoiding the chagrin of the boss who's been the bane of their short sojourn through the city of lost dreams, chance encounters, thin fortune and rushed hours. This is London.
Route Master = a London bus
Hackney Carriage = a black cab
Boris Bike = rentabike
Chelsea tractor = an oversized suv preferred by families who can afford Kensington & Chelsea
My chest is heavy
Calm down you say
My breathing is rapid
It's no big deal you say
My heart is racing
What's the problem you say
My words are caught in my throat
She wants attention you say
My head is spinning
She is being dramatic you say
My whole body is trembling
Why do you act like that you say
My tears won't stop falling
Don't act so weak you say
My screams echo inside my head
It's just another day you say
My mind broken and realing
You're so bothered by little things you say
My heart is shattered, unrepairable
Why do you say all these things you say
When you have experienced a trauma that leaves you with ptsd any little thing can be a trigger
A fine feat under darker skies when he left again in the mourning hours, and I woke again in the morning hours. Had I have held longer, tighter, I would have no poetics in steady stride. I find it is comfort that I fear in the deepest hours, alone and to myself, I dream – not often thinking. Dreams made real by gentlest touch of my thigh, my breast, my neck, my chin, then my cheek. He will not rest for I will not rest in the tint of a blood-orange sky following a dark deeper than the depths in the pit of one’s eye.
Cry and I will bid away in silence at which you will no longer need to worry: not of the mourning hours, nor the morning hours. We will not be bothered any by the dark where I will no longer want a gentle touch for it will be cold like a chilled night in the palm of my hand; but this chill is not cold for I will have seduced you and I will be warmed again in the morning hours.
© Shane Leigh
A true friend will text you to see if you got home safe.
Notice when your upset or are bothered.
Will make time and see you when it feels like it's been a long wait.
Be honest and get on your case
Believe in you.
Wont give up on you.
I question our friendship because I have seen these qualities disappear.
Our texts set the example of what we have become, a " hello"and "how you been ?" relationship and I think our friendship might be at stake.
I don't want us to end it but you have to show me that you want us to survive.
You have every right to desire it
You are selfish for accepting it
Let them take care of you
They should not be bothered
It's okay to be vulnerable
Dependence is for the weak
Life did not go easy on you
Stop fussing over everything
You are doing the best you can
You are nothing but a failure
Be kind to yourself
S-u-c-k it up loser
I've been laying in bed for hours
Pretending you were still here
With your arms wrapped around me
Whispering how much you love me
In my ear
I do this every night
Curl up to your ghost
Pretend you never left
Because I needed you the most
And I still need you
Because every day it gets harder to breathe
You filled my lungs with air
I didn't want to leave
But it hurt too much to be without you
And I knew love was dangerous
But just like you said
It's socially acceptable madness
Well I'm out of my mind
Completely off the rails
But it never bothered you
And I let this love fail
Are we fated to dance to the same tune alone in our separate universes?
Is it true that we must silently keep to our preordained curses?
Are we destined to swoon at the beauty of the moon at differing time slots?
Why were we given invisible ink to connect our lives' dots?
Must it be that our lives revolve around the whims of the sun?
Isn't it ludicrous that we won't see the intricate webs we've spun?
Was it the plan that we exist only in our minds and hearts?
Why do we have to tolerate starting when the other's ending and end at the other's starts?
Has it been written that we can only afford to infinitely chase each others heartbeats?
Was it foretold that we're trapped in a singular notion that never really fits?
Is the game set as such that we can never emerge as winners?
How is it that the ocean was made out of our tears that flowed from rivers?
Why is it that with our entirety we believe but do not know?
What's the reason for the path made clear but we're too afraid to go?
What does it entail to possess the very least but yet you covet it the most?
How do you pride yourself in something but not allowed to boast?
Why do we frantically scramble to piece together jagged shards?
Can't we just play this blasted deck of lousy cards?
Is it destiny or cruelty to have found then lost?
Why does it seem absurd that we have all its takes but can't afford the cost?
Is it the thoughts that **** or the emotions that debilitate?
Is it the challenges we take on or the curveballs we anticipate?
Why bother when sheer folly is all it seems to be?
Why tarry when the heart is free and the mind is ready?
Is it ridiculous to have found myself still very bothered?
Is it wrong to question fate that had always bound us tethered?
Why is the good always bad and the bad becomes worse?
Is it true that the harder we fight, the deeper we immerse?
Has life turned to be but sad little rhetorics?
Are we but performers on stages coerced into theatrics?
Is it time for me to surface this one-man submarine?
Will it be so that if I do, my journey would then begin...?
A host of rhetorical questions from my older writes...
"Surface this one-man submarine" isn't mine... It's Brandon Boyd's.
Taken off Incubus' " Love Hurts"
A buzz saw a buzzing
Looking back through time
It's no longer the problem
That I thought it was
The tap-tap-tap of hammer on nails
Sitting here smoking a cigarillo
Drinking iced coffee
And thinking of my prime
I make few friends
Sometimes I can't even trust those
Often they drive up
And want to stay which way and when
I'm having oral *** with my trumpet
While holding hands with the dark
I shout out to the heavens
My eyes so full of stars
I dropped a letter to my Doctor
Giving him my order
Soon I will be flush
Not bothered by anything
I always go through them
Way too fast
Then I sit there in the corner
Licking my wounds