absence

How can the absence
Of something,
Pull you so deeply.

Deep inside itself.

Are cosmic black holes
Created,
In the absence of love?

Christmas Market

Coloured lights fill her gaze
As she hardens against the chill;
Breathing mulled wine

woman on the train

She had the air if the seventies about her.

A warm Jasmine breeze could whisp away her soft cotton blouse and reveal her ample bosom beneath. She would lean back her head so that her long wavy hair would shake loose, and she'd smile a gentle smile and breathe deeply. You could touch her, and she would welcome it. She would absorb your energy and your fingertips would tingle from the electricity of her skin. The space is colourful around her, filled with sexuality, draped in warmth and motherhood.

swallowed

Fading away.
Engulfed in your opinions.
Where do I begin?
Or did I end?

woman in glass

She stands in the darkness, pretending not to see me. Always looking out of the corner of her eye. Always there, always mocking.

She raises a hand to her cheek, as I do, she speaks when I speak, but I can't hear her. Somedays I listen so hard, so hard, to the silence.

She must have a purpose, a reason for being there?! A reason to stand each day, in the darkness. Why does she mock me at my window?

Throne of Thorns

Today I sit on my throne of thorns
As I look out onto my Queendom
My snivelling subjects pay with blood
For the disappointments they have
brought me

Their watery eyes, and quivering chins
Make my stomach full of anger
I'll send the guards to punch their heads,
to bloody and bruise their faces

My throne of thorns,
My crown of shame,
My sword of vitriol
and vengeance

Cower. Cower before your Queen.

Dancing in the sand,

Dancing in the sand,
The sun, swallowed
By warm, still waters,
Now inky black
Under starlight.

Dancing in the sand,
Twirling your airy
Dress around
Sun-kissed ankles.
Smiling.

Left hand, lightly
Holds your shoes.
Naked toes enveloped
In the softness
Of the beach

Imploring the night
With your movement,
Caressed by a warm
Salty breeze

Your strap falls from your shoulder.

Dancing in the sand,
Because nothing else matters.