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.

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i. Rain City

March 4, 2011

Above them glowed a golden sun,
The first they’d seen of it in years.

The people gazed up at the sky,
At something they had long forgot;

For so long, rain was all they’d known;
The rain defined their lives; The rain,
Had been the only thing they could,
Depend upon. From morning right,
Through every day, the rain came down.

There were a few among them who,
Had been around before the rain,
But none remembered how it felt,
The rain had washed those days away.

For all the rest, the sun was new,
An alien come from the grey;
That soft grey safety blanket they,
Had been wrapped up in right from birth.
And now that blanket had been snatched!

Exposed, they stared up at the sun;
It stung their eyes and burned their skin;

They soon all ran for cover from,
This stranger in the sky. And this,
This scramble for the shade was what,
Sparked memories for that small few,
The few that had survived this long.

They suddenly remembered how,
They too had run for shelter when,
The rain began to fall. There was,
A time when they had hidden from,
The rain; A time when they had missed,
The sun… And now it had returned,
To grant them warmth once more.

But how were they to tell the rest,
Who loved the rain, and loved the dark,
The clouds it cast above, the grey,
It painted in their sky, the cold,
It’s blanket wrapped them in. How could,
They ever understand that this,

This brightness, boldness, heat, was good?
A thing for them to bask in, not,
A thing to fear; A thing to set,
Them free from dreary servitude;
A thing to light their way; A source
Of vibrant joy. The light it cast,
Could rid them of the apathy,
The rain had filled them with; Could help,
Them live again, if only they,
Could see the truth. But fear of change,
Impeded them – Their fear, it made,
Them yearn for rain, for what they knew,
And when the sun persisted, they,
Rose up as one and put up walls,
To block its light; To keep its heat,
At bay, to claw their blanket back.

Eventually, the elders passed,
’til none remained from days before,
The rain. No, none were left to teach,
The rest to leave the shade and trust,
The sun. And thus, they stayed inside,
For good and raised their young the same.

The sun burned on, up in the sky,
But none who lived there let its light,
Shine on their lives; they never felt,
It’s warmth upon their skin again.

They never knew the joy the sun,
Could bring; They never felt the sense,
Of freedom that it promised them.

 

 

Inspired by the title of the song, ‘Rain City‘, by Turin Brakes.

xxiii. Haunted

February 1, 2011

Sweeping the floor,
I find a reminder;
It’s long and black.
It shatters me;
It brings me to my knees.

This morning,
It was your lipstick mark,
Still on your coffee cup;
Last night,
It was your perfume,
Still on my pillow.

Now it’s this hair,
Lay as if in ambush,
Waiting for me,
To find it there,
That stops me,
In my tracks.

I cannot live this way,
With your ghost,
Haunting my apartment.
You dominate my dreams,
And you surround me,
When I am awake.

Even when I leave,
Your chewing gum’s,
Still in my car;
Your favourite song,
Is on my radio;
The seat’s reclined,
Just the way,
You liked it.

I’m haunted by,
My happiest memories –
Memories,
Of a time,
That was so perfect.
I have no nightmares,
When I sleep and yet,
Somehow this is worse.

These happy memories,
Surrounding me,
But always,
Out of reach;
They terrorise,
Tease,
Taunt me;
They’re driving me,
Insane.

I wake up in the night,
I’m sleeping on ‘my side’,
As though,
You’re still there.
I can’t roll over,
Because the cold,
Will tell me,
What I already know,
But cannot bear to feel.

Getting ready for work,
I pick my toothbrush up,
From beside yours.
Yours is the red one –
Your favourite colour.
You’ll never use it now,
But there it sits,
Defiant;
Staking it’s claim.

Sometimes,
Out of habit,
I still cook,
Too many eggs,
In the morning.
Yours go to the dog,
But it’s still enough,
To remind me.

I wonder,
When I will be exorcised,
Of these,
My happiest memories;
Memories of a happiness,
I can no longer bear.

 

 

Inspired by the following lyric:
“Got your lipstick mark/ Still on your coffee cup”
I’m not a fan of Take That, but that one line has always stood out to me as being somehow genius.

x. Inside Out

January 13, 2011

Part 1

Outside, the Sun is shining bright,
Outside, the Sky is blue.
Outside it seems so warm today,
But I’m cold without you.

Part 2

Outside, I smile. Outside, I’m glad.
Outside, my life is great.
Outside I wave and say hello.
Inside, I’m filled with hate.