xix. She Sells…

August 25, 2011

like seashells held to your ear
echo foreign lands and happy times
but as we know too well,
the sounds you hear in shells
are only lies we tell ourselves.
Are dreams any different?
But still we dream,
not because of the promises they make
but because of what they represent;
because every lie told
is a glimpse at a truth that could have been
or could be
just like every soul sold
is a reminder
of a world where angels reigned,
when the devil existed only in nightmares
and stories told by mums to naughty kids.
Now, we need these dreams to see those angels
and to believe that the devil isn’t real.


A beat skipped,
just one;
I didn’t notice,
didn’t feel a thing
but you,
a part of me,
alive inside me,
felt the change in rhythm
as a flutter
in your own chest.

You flow through me;
you dance through my veins
and give my heart its beat.
You live inside me;
you fill my lungs
and give me air to breathe.

You are the pulses
that fire my synapses,
that feed my logic.
You are the magic
that charmed my soul,
that feeds my love.

xvi. Across the World

August 9, 2011

I moved across the world
to where my favorite coffee grew
my favorite flowers unfurled
and my favorite chocolate was made too
and as the dances of fate twisted and twirled
I moved across the world to you.

xv. Towel

August 5, 2011

I gave it up,
I passed on it,
I threw in the towel.

She shed a tear,
She hit the floor,
She gave a solemn howl.

I walked away,
I left it dying,
I told her I was done.

She couldn’t move,
She wouldn’t accept it,
She wouldn’t let me run.

Our time was over,
Our day was through,
Our number had come up.

We ended there,
We let love die,
We said enough’s enough.



Prompt from @theundeniables

xiv. Burn

July 30, 2011

I burned her.

I set her alight
and watched the flames rise
and the smoke curl.

I watched her skin blister,
her hair crinkle
and her smile turn to ashes.

At first it felt extreme
but once the photos were gone,
I began to feel a weight lifting.

I felt the curtain being pulled back
and the shadows start to fade
so I carried on.

Next, I threw her clothes on the flames
and for a moment her fragrance filled the room
before the smoke thickened.

A black tower rose up
from the waste paper bin
in the middle of the living room.

Thick black smoke,
the colour of my heart,
caressed the ceiling.

Before long, I had burned it all:
photos, clothes, DVDs, gifts;
I’d even thrown her favourite mug on the flames.

But somehow,
memories of her lingered on;
she refused to be forgotten.

I realised that a part of her
still lived inside me,
that as long as I loved her, she’d never let go.

So there was only one thing for it;
I had one last thing to burn,
one last thing to cleanse of her.

I felt the flames beckoning me,
urging me to finish the job,
and so I gave in to them.

I jumped on the flames
and the last thing I saw before my soul was consumed
was her.

Evan struggled every day
to see the good in anything;
no matter where life took him to,
his mind would paint the shadows in.

Any seed of happiness
his fortune planted in his head,
his dark thoughts nurtured carefully
until the wonted demons hatched.

Day by day he spiraled down
into a hole he dug himself;
a pitch-black prison with no key;
a hell of his own construction.

Then, one day he realized
a key existed after all,
that it was he who’d locked the door
and only he could open it.

Evan found a blue balloon,
the brightest blue you ever saw,
like summer skies and mama’s pie,
and started blowing into it.

Every breath he breathed into
the great big blue balloon, it grew
and with each blow, he got rid of
another troubling thought as well.

Every time from that day on
that Evan had a negative
or dark disturbing thought in mind,
he blew it into his balloon.

Now, he saw the world anew,
a place to love and to enjoy.
Eventually the love and joy
crept in and shone a light inside.

Shadows faded, darkness fled
and Evan’s thoughts were changed for good.
He let go of that blue balloon
and watched his troubles float away.

xii. Silence

July 22, 2011

The noise takes over silence, suddenly.
The awkwardness between us grows too loud;
The ticking clock upon the wall counts down
the time that passes by without a word;
The television, background hum before,
now commentator on the battlefield
that sprawls between us, hostile land bestrewn
with failed apologies and unmasked lies;
The softly growling dog that lies asleep,
a symbol of a simpler life – of peace –
reminder of naivete of youth,
a time when arguments seemed all grown up
and we swore we would grow up differently;
the music rumbling through the party wall –
a constant that we’ve grown used to – becomes
an inapt soundtrack to our dying love;
and even traffic from the street below
begins to taunt and tease by offering
escape – the sound of people travelling
from place to place – if only you would dare
but we both know that if you leave, it’s done.
The silence feeds itself as time ticks on
and I can’t bare the thunderous sound it makes
but neither of us want for it to end.

xi. Cold

July 22, 2011

My heart beats hard,
tries its level best to
remind me I’m alive
and yet I don’t feel it,
not the way I should,
not like it’s within me,
not like it’s a part of me.
My breath speeds up,
steams on the mirror.
I feel no in and out,
no oxygen to the brain
just like I don’t feel
the blood pumping
just like I don’t feel
the joy or pain of life
just like I don’t feel.
Cold makes me numb,
dulls my senses, yet
this doesn’t feel new.
Dullness comforts me,
like an old friend might,
wraps its arms round me
and slows my heart
and slows my breath
and reminds me that death
is always around the corner.

x. The Edge

July 22, 2011

Sitting at the edge of emotion,
the tension before it snaps.
The sweet release of suicide
calling, teasing like a siren
in the stormy seas of my misery.
That moment when the blur clears
and it all makes sense –
like this is the only answer,
like this has been it all along.

Standing at the precipice of eternity.
The seconds before the darkness
and there is only light, divine.
The soft lullaby of death
entices me into endless slumber,
beckoning me to the painlessness of forever.

Kneeling at the feet of God,
exhausted from praying and waiting;
This time not asking but telling
choosing my own destiny,
taking my life in my own hands.
No more supplication, pleading
for delivery – no more.

Lying in the corner of the room,
feeling the life crawl out of me –
Not a soft and gentle transcendence
but a harsh and unforgiving wrench
from the world of the living.
Not like slipping silently into dreams
but jerking roughly into the cacophony of hell.
Sick to my stomach now,
retching and twitching,
screaming as the darkness closes in.
Finally, the realization that this was not the answer;
the acceptance of my own stupidity;
the knowledge that it is too late;
the guilt.