Asleep, not dreaming

A wordless song

Singing through my dreams

Blind sleep 

Beyond sleeping

And me, constantly lost in the space between 

Roses For You

Green as grass, slow silhouettes fade gently away

Leaving behind shadows of moss and wood, deep blue

And the dusk fades to moonlight, turning slowly to grey

And all that's left, is just this moment with you

Trouble

They said he was sly, but not like a fox, neither was he cunning. The trouble was his kindness. He had that voice, soft as cashmere, and those eyes that glowed with mischief and magic, too, and a sweet, wide smile, more infectious than the flu. He was so warm, he glowed. So, you never knew what'd struck you, until he did of course, even though you'd been warned that he was trouble.

Not Today

On a sunny day,  you never think about it, the fact that you could be afflicted by a flesh eating bacteria from a dip in the pool or choke on your own tongue as you take your next sip of beer. No, it never occurs to you, on a sunny day. Sitting in the tall grass a mile away, a murder could be using the daylight to see straight into your home, where you're comfortably enjoying the summer, leaving every window and door open for him. Could you be squished to a smear of red jam on the corner by a six tonne truck? Perhaps that one you've thought about, trucks are big and scary looking. But not today, not while the sun is high and warm above you and the clouds in the sky are as few and fleeting as the worries in your mind.

The Clearing in My Mind

It's very green above the hustle of The Valley, and I walk further up, up, up. I remember your description. Tall trees like spires. But then, forests have always been my church. Sunlight comes as blessings, dappled but finding its way to me, through the thick and thin. I live in the cadence of your words. Moss, and grass, and mud, and I trek up, up, up. To a clearing for coffee with a book. Peace, and greenliness, and a view. It's amusing the place I most frequently daydream of is one I've never been.

Juxtaposition

The feeling burned as it rose

Rushed and overcame them

Leaning, she stretched an arm out

Yearning, he did the same

They tossed violently in the night

Alone, in their respective beds.

On Love

Being in love

Is like

Letting a bunch of 3 year olds play with or near an electric fence
Letting a thief into your country's Fort Knox
Letting a serial killer into the room that your heart box is kept

Detailing

I have so much love
For the ones beautiful without trying
Passion that fills up the room
Enthusiasm lighting the corners of eyes
Wrinkles that don't apologise
Which are really, really old smile lines
Pressed in place by a lifetime of laughter
Despite the thorns
Neglecting to mention the hard times
Faces that talk without speaking
Eyes whispering secrets
Hands with stories to tell
Old scars like trophies
And the way hair falls over eyes
Gets tucked behind ears
Is never admired like before

Home

Come back
From wherever you are
Wipe the troubles from your brow
The ones that hide behind your eyes
And lose them in the spaces between my ribs
The love you seek
Waits patiently in my belly 
In the crook of my neck
Sits the salt you need to soldier on 
Uncertainty and bitterness
These are things I can swallow
And replace them with warmth and kindness
Pulled from my blood
The hollows of my bones
My marrow
Because everything 
All of me
If it's not for you
Then what's the point

Long Distance

And I awoke in the night to find a golden thread reeling from my heart, thin and nimble as silk, but strong like steel, moving silently with slippery slips, running across everything, through the seas and back across, out over land, beneath the eaves and over skyscrapers to where he was, in his bed, attaching itself to the place he had a picture of me, within his heart.