Nothing to sing

Your words still linger on my skin,
but I’ve been screaming for silence with my dreams.
Been listening to you sing nothing for years
Looking at your stories fabricated from tears

I was secretly falling away
Into swirling clouds and emerald seas.
Following the footprints of forgotten ghosts
Tracing the stars with a feather pen

I don’t know if that place will be better
I would have liked the company if you would have come.
But you have tears to cry and nothing to sing.
So you sold you dreams for an ear to listen

while I was secretly falling away
Into swirling clouds and emerald seas.
Following the footprints of forgotten ghosts
Tracing the stars with a feather pen

I wrote to you but you still didn’t see
the address at the top, ink dipped in the stars.
Now you have no dreams left to buy back your sanity.
Only your tears and nothing to sing.

I've been dancing in the clouds since the first time we spoke, but it wasn't until you left that I realised where I was.
Now I'm dancing here alone..... but somehow it isn't the same.

Mine.

Drowning in the lingering song of Sirens
you were stolen away.
I'm sorry I had to make you mine
blind you with a moonlit candle.
You were so free of the burden of life
deaf to the cries of beauty and pain.
I couldn't bear to see you so alone
trapped with everyone else.
I had to show you the hidden door
to the endless slippery downwards path.
The view from up there was beautiful, I agree
but I've given you the chance to step into the painting.
The clutching hands call out to your dreams,
pricking the hairs on the back of your neck.
You've been hearing them sing ever since you could remember.
I showed you their fallacy, and now you're mine.

Dreams

I fell asleep to the soothing sound of rain on my window. Listening to the clouds put down their heavy burden, I escaped on the wings of Morpheus. He transported me away to a land of which I only remember fragments of feelings and people. He waited an eternity in that timeless place. Then when I was ready he guided me back….awaking me to the silence of a rising sun and a new day.

Dying to live

She stepped to the cliff edge, a vast expanse spread out beneath her. The wind was blowing her hair across her face, her skirt billowing slightly. She kicked the stones around her over the edge, watching them freefall silently. Her skin pricked into goosebumps. She could be that free. It was just one more step forward.
She closed her eyes, gave her body and mind a moment to comprehend what she was about to do, and fell into the canyon beneath her.
Strange thing was though, the seconds before she fell to her death- those seconds were the only time that she had ever really felt alive.
.

Have you ever felt like the world has brought you to your knees, but you’ve just gone crashing through the floor as you fell and now you’re left wondering how many floors there are till you hit the basement?

I slipped away silently, hoping she would notice, come after me.
But she didn't. I walked away alone.
I was deaf to her calls by the time she had realised that i was no longer there.
I no longer felt the need for someone to complete me as a human being.
I was complete.
I needed someone to complement my personality.
I needed someone else.

i feel like i'm holding myself back from something. But I can't figure out what it is.
Maybe that's why images of myself flinging expensive, breakable objects through fragile windows pass before my eyes daily.
Maybe tomorrow i'll decide to do it.
and the day after that i'll actually do it.
Maybe tomorrow.

Choosing my confessions

Everyday we speak and you think you know
Think you see my faults
even the things I don’t show.

You think I’m happy because I tell you I am.
You misread the signals
They’re in a language you don’t understand.

For others I’m a glass that they can see straight through,
but really it’s a mirror, a reflection of you.
We see in each other what we think we want,
All with imperfections
The mirror is cracked.

But I choose my confessions, tailor my words.
I’m carving the mirror to match your image.
I’m giving you my life in parts.

I’m choosing the weapons I’ll allow people to use.
Whether I want to be decapitated or just left with a bruise.
Choosing my confessions from a well ordered system,
some of them erased, denied an existence,

I give to you of me what I want you to see,
always controlling my image.
The mirror that is me.

Observations

I’m an ordinary girl in an extraordinary world,
watching ordinary scenes,
imagining ordinary dreams.

People go about their ordinary ways in their ordinary days,
experiencing ordinary joy
and suffering ordinary pain.

We eat our ordinary food and watch the ordinary news.
We drive our ordinary cars,
Leaders fight their ordinary wars.

You wear your ordinary clothes and play your ordinary games,
work your ordinary job
and clean your ordinary floors.

Ordinary women give birth to ordinary babies
and ordinary parents soothe their children with ordinary fables. Ordinary people are dying in ordinary beds,
while other ordinary people are surviving the ordinary odds.

Ordinary people toil the ordinary earth,
while ordinary philosophers wonder what its all worth.

Ordinary miracles happen every ordinary day,
in this extraordinary world
with its ordinary ways.

I think I met one of the most amazing people in my world, and although they live in an entirely place, I have them with me, always. I’ve never had anyone treat me the way they did. Not only did they listen to all that I had to say, but they understood, even the things I didn’t say. I don’t write this as a tale of love or woe or of tragedy, but I write it for people to know that it exists. That for a brief moment in time I experienced something that most people only ever dream about. The thing that people make movies and books and art and music about. I had it. Even if that time was only equivalent to 1 millimetre in the whole length of the universe. I had it.

My lungs aren't strong enough to take the scream my body contains....so it waits indside, beneath my skin. Either for the day when I am strong enough to do it justice, or for the day when it has become uncontainable, regardless of the vessel.
Whichever comes first.

It took all my strength to throw my life into that fire. As I watched it burn it slowly became clear….it wasn’t my life that was becoming dust and ashes, but my inhibitions, the things that had been stopping me live. They licked the flames, reluctant to burn. They had been irrevocably entwined with me for so long…for my whole life. It would’ve been easy to destroy my life, so fragile is its glue…many people do. But inhibitions…..they weigh you down like lead. I needed to experience life, to take advantage of my chance. I set myself free.

She keeps on walking the same, never ending path, on and on. Every now and again she decides to veer off into the unknown and explore an undiscovered trail, but soon she is walking back on the same path again, still heading for the same place. She tricks herself into thinking that she is lost, that this path is new, that it is leading her somewhere else……but really its all alike. Every path will drag her to the same place that she has always been heading... just no one has bothered to tell her.

He plummeted down.
‘I’ve fallen’ he said.
‘Where?’
‘Into the unknown. The only way to fix it is for you to fall too.’
‘I don’t want to. Not there, not with you.’
‘…………’
‘What made you fall?’
‘Don’t know, it was an accident.'

.......Did he trip or did I inadvertently push him?