Wednesday, 29 June 2011

Static in the Rain

Standing still in time
-Motion blur all around her-
Chin facing skyward

Mascara tracks weave webs
Across her porcelain skin
Driving rain beats down
Onto her smiling face

The bustle of the world
Is muted
As she feels a kiss
From each raindrop lover

Sunday, 26 June 2011

Saturday, 25 June 2011

Look to the sky

Look to the sky -
The stars hold the wisdom
Of a million shining souls.

Twinkling eyes from heaven
All knowing
All understanding

Cleansing tears
Of rainfall
Washing away the pain

Physically taken,
But your hug is still felt
In a warm summers breeze

~ x ~


Goosebumps spring up over my naked flesh,
Fresh from the shower,
Scrubbing the pain away,
Lying naked in the cold afternoon air,
Trying to feel again.

Friday, 24 June 2011

An Overexposed Photograph

The brightness tears at the edge of her eyesight, so brilliant white.  The promenade is like an overexposed photograph.  A warm, salty breeze catches her soft cotton dress, and whips it gently around her.  She walks slowly, carefully along the seafront.  Her body feels heavier than it should.

She remembers the turmoil, the argument, he was so angry; but her anguish is eased by the strange luminosity of her surroundings.  So still, so peaceful, so warm.

So warm.  She moves to lay down, right there on the concrete.  The sun soaked walkway stings her bare legs.

She feels heavy.

She tilts her head to the side, now resting on the floor, and is absorbed in the delicate light glittering off the sand grains which have been scattered up from the beach.  Perpetual movement of light, glistening all around her, twinkling in the summer sun.  Her eyes softly close, and she listens to the sea, the water rolling in over the beach, and out, in and out, she is breathing, breathing.


So much and so little time passes, just breathing.

She opens her eyes, painfully.  The room takes time to focus; the bare light bulb in the hallway flickers; she is crumpled at the base of the stairs.  Blood.  So much blood.

The front door is left open.  She knows he is gone, for the last time.

Man on the underground

Ah man on the underground.

With every flip of your newspaper
You waft the warm fruity odour
From your working mans armpit
Into my disgusted,
Yet strangled polite face

Have a good evening

Wednesday, 22 June 2011


Your luminance astounds me.

My breath carried away on sunbeams;
Evicted from my body by the impact
Of your ethereal beauty.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011


For three days and three nights the rains fell, torrential, persistent, cleansing. And now the sun; burning through the clouds, purging with it's fiery heat.

Thick, black, oily slugs emerge from the soil as if borne of the storm itself.

The crows circle.

This does not bode well.

Saturday, 11 June 2011



Shattered like the mirror.

The shards reflect her broken form;
Just focus on one piece
And she appears whole.
But this is an illusion,
You're choosing the narrow view.

She is shattered.
Her soul splintered into fragments.
Fragments of herself,
That can never be mended.

Nothing fits together any more.