I sit alone
comfortable in silence
surrounded by time
eyes follow closed lines
a breath remains
outlined by a kiss
stained on glass
no longer in solitude
but in the noise of memories
your song your voice
your words
tell me again
forever stop the silence
Thursday, 25 June 2009
Friday feelings
The pink sky soothes
the darkness rumbles
in the distance
the rain washes
dark pavements
the summer smells
of hot rain
it cleanses my mind
washing away
thirty seven hours
ready for the next
Is there someone at the door?
She reads back and she cries. She thinks back to a time and she cries. Tears filled with pain and loss, tears full of hurt.
His voice had once saved her. Tonight, his voice changed, it was different and one that reflected a past.
His past.
She can’t hear him, she can’t understand. Words are just letters, combined and strung together in a pattern with a sound, but they don’t flow, there is no sense.
She is scared. She can hear the devil knocking on his door; she fears the threshold has been broken and that he is running through his veins. Laughing.
A few words and then silence. A sigh, and then a repeat. She wants to say goodbye, tears sting her cheeks. He doesn’t know; he can’t hear her soft sobbing, her short breaths and long pause.
The threat of anger stills her, the calm before the storm, patiently, she waits.
She wants to be strong, she tries to be brave and tell him how much his backward step hurts. A promise once made, she wants to believe, she has to believe.
Where is her friend? Where is her lover? Where is her promise of a changed life?
She wants to be proud. She wants to be happy and certain the past has a closed door.
She waits for an embrace, a kiss, a reassurance
She waits to be brought back to life.
His voice had once saved her. Tonight, his voice changed, it was different and one that reflected a past.
His past.
She can’t hear him, she can’t understand. Words are just letters, combined and strung together in a pattern with a sound, but they don’t flow, there is no sense.
She is scared. She can hear the devil knocking on his door; she fears the threshold has been broken and that he is running through his veins. Laughing.
A few words and then silence. A sigh, and then a repeat. She wants to say goodbye, tears sting her cheeks. He doesn’t know; he can’t hear her soft sobbing, her short breaths and long pause.
The threat of anger stills her, the calm before the storm, patiently, she waits.
She wants to be strong, she tries to be brave and tell him how much his backward step hurts. A promise once made, she wants to believe, she has to believe.
Where is her friend? Where is her lover? Where is her promise of a changed life?
She wants to be proud. She wants to be happy and certain the past has a closed door.
She waits for an embrace, a kiss, a reassurance
She waits to be brought back to life.
Monday, 1 June 2009
Corners of my home
Whilst taking photos of the many clothes thatI have turned out of my wardrobe to sell on ebay, I got a little camera happy and took some pictures of my favourite things - that make my little victorian terraced house my perfect little den.
My rubber plant is called Dave and he lives in a giant tea cup 
My new dress which is so pretty I can't bear to put it in the wardrobe
My rubber plant is called Dave and he lives in a giant tea cup I am pig obessive. This is Gertrude, she is my fattest pig but by far the cutest.
A corner of my new kitchen with my new tea cosy, handmade by a WI group on the Isle of Wight. My mum knew that I would love it. She was right! Once my perfect kitchen is finished I will share, all I need to find is some vintage jugs, teapots and pretty saucers for my shelves.
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