Tuesday, 28 February 2012

hug

Two entwined
In a bodiless hug.

No arms wrapped.
No breathe near.

But souls,
Connected;
Eternally.

Saturday, 18 February 2012

i have followed my own footsteps

I have followed my own footsteps
Tracked back down the path
I watched again leaves tumble
From the trees grown in my past

I have followed my own footsteps
And looked me in the eye
I have seen the person in my heart
And no longer want to die

I have followed my own footsteps
And now leave them all behind
I walk with me now stronger
To watch the sun rise in the sky

Thursday, 16 February 2012

moonlight

Moonlight.
Cold, blue, shining
on nakedness.

She stands at the window;
lithe and wistful.

The chill in the air,
sparks shivers on
her luminous skin.

She breathes in moonbeams,
and longs for home,
as her eyes sparkle with the stars.

Moonlight.
Cold, blue, shining
on nakedness.

She stands at the window.

Wednesday, 15 February 2012

little pale boy

Small arms
Small body
Round head
Sad eyes

Little pale boy
He lives in the dark

Small arms
Small body
Round head
Sad eyes

Little pale boy
No love in his heart

Sunday, 12 February 2012

purity of absence

Snow.
As far as the eye can see.

A white sheet of paper,
An absence,
An entirety of nothing.

Not wounded by human
touch,
Nor soiled by emotion,
The purity of absence.

Cleansing the world.

Tuesday, 7 February 2012

his shoes

It's the shoes that interest me the most, as I get older, I can tell a lot about the shoes. I feel immediately closer to someone with scuffed toes, than any number of pointed shiny patent fellows. It is what one wears on the feet that really maketh the man. I like mr a little unkempt, mr life is too interesting to use polish, mr o! I've got feet. I don't like a man that can spend longer than I do in the bathroom. One whose hair is styled to within an inch of it's life, one whose shirt is perfectly ironed and who is grouchy if I've washed it on the wrong setting. The shoes are the true tell tale sign of the person who is right for me, and as I wait for him, I'm happy, knowing that he isn't wasting his time with polish.

Thursday, 2 February 2012

old friends

You.
All those years ago,
You played with me.
You hurt me.

You loved me,
You left me,
You fucked me,
You left me;
All those years ago.

And here you stand.
And I smile,
At us, old friends.

barren

Barren tree
Undressed
And uncomfortable
In the cold winter light

Barren tree
Arms reach
For affection
Before another lonely night

Barren tree
Branches sway
And bough bend
Makes a sad mournful sight