No

When I said no

You heard a challenge

Even though I told you

Of my fear of the damage

When I cried and left

You saw a chance

Even though I told you

That I’m done with this dance

When I said no

With fear, unstable

You abused your power

Knowing I was vulnerable

When I said no

It wasn’t in grey

But somehow feels ambiguous

In the cold light of day

But I was complicit

I also took part

So with shame in my voice

My expression is through art

Silence

A silence so heavy and hollow

It can wrap it’s fingers around your heart

Reaching through the inner shouts

And tormented voices

A silence so thick and empty

It can wrap itself around your mind

Reaching through to highlight the doubts

And question all your choices

The difference between lonely and alone

Is that silence you feel when all voices are gone

It’s that intrinsic belief you will always be one

The isolation is in your bones, as this heart-gripping silence becomes your home

Drifting

Sometimes it’s the small things

The beat

The moment

The suspension of attention

When a screen is more interesting than you

When the laugh is somehow disconnected

The look is skips a beat and no longer lingers

When the fondness is still there but distracted

And those small things

Combined with a name

A glance at the wrong moment

Hold your breath

Feel the kiss

And then the truth

It’s all in your head

Relief

Distance is un-quantifiable

Between breaths

Between beats

But when its there

Your heart sinks

Or the delusion

Is it all in your head?

Sometimes it’s the small things

The beat

The moment

The suspension of attention

And you suddenly realise…

You’re… drifting

Bad timing

It was just bad timing
As you always said it was
When we fell, when we met
When you left, I was bereft

It was just bad timing
As you always knew it was
When we kissed, when we fell
When I lost myself, heartbroken hell

Bad timing
Syncopated love
Taken in stolen seconds
Shared in vain
Bad timing
Syncopated hearts
Loving in moments
Left in pain

It was just bad timing
As you always saw it was
When you held me, when we cared
When we were broken, and scared

It was just bad timing
As I always knew it could be
When you said you could fall in love
And I was too scared to say the truth

Bad timing
Syncopated love
Taken in stolen seconds
Shared in vain
Bad timing
Syncopated hearts
Loving in moments
Left in pain

It was just bad timing
As I always feard it was
When I head you’d met someone else
And I was too deluded to tell

It was just bad timing
We both knew it all along
When we fell, into and out of
Whatever we had, it was never enough

Bad timing
Syncopated love
Taken in stolen seconds
Shared in vain
Bad timing
Syncopated hearts
Loving in moments
Left in pain

For all to see

Just an image that came to me when listening to Nightwish ‘Meadows of heaven’ and a poem that followed.

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Heartbreak cascaded through her,
She saw it
Black as night
Was it just in her reflection?
It was, she was sure,
She wipes her eyes
Frantic, afraid
Her hands tremble
As if her tears, tore through her,
Wearing tracks;
And leaving ghosts
For all to see,
Or just for me?

Voracious (#MSPoetry)

Her love, her desire, her loneliness –
Unquestionably voracious –
A life in extremes.
The darkness;
Such a fight.
The highs;
Such delight.
In an empty world –
On an empty stage –
The moon illuminates her tears
As her mind races,
Her eyes darting veraciously
Through the solid darkness.
Searching.
Her mouth forms words
Too timid to say.
Silence.
But there’s passion,
A hunger for hope;
A desire for something better,
In the moonlight,
Alone, lost, and scared,
But with hope,
And the beauty of the night,
She finds herself;
A voracious dreamer.

Ol’Father time

A poem about being acutely aware of time, all the moments passing

It’s a rhythm, a beat, a subtle intrusion,
It’s permanent, present and an illusion.

Whether silent or shouting, time speaks in my tongue,
If you’re watching or not it’s a siren’s song,
That calls and calls in cascaded clicks,
With dulcet tones if the hour permits.

Hypnotically absent, but every where in your mind
Unavoidable awareness of each moment in time.

The hands spin round drawing in my thoughts,
I feel him near, in this space of mine
Turning in my mind with barely a pause,
I can hear him always, Ol’father time.

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White space

Free-written poetry, survival through moments of depression and the hope of escape as life resumes.

The white-space.
Pain just seemed to happen to her she felt nothing. It was part of the process, part of the cycle,
Just something to endure.
Where words failed and help too distant.
When the fear overwhelms and invades all senses,

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