Playing with Fairies

The moon was large as I had tea with angels.
Playing out conversations I’d made up when I was a girl.
A book was missing from the shelf.
Dust fairies had pushed it out.

The angels and I wandered through clouds of dandelions,
Searching for the missing book.
For our clue we found a trail of buttons.
The gentle laugh of the angels was a beautiful sound.

We followed this trail on and on.
It ended at a well.
We peered inside but there was nothing but weeds.
As we turned to leave I tripped and fell.

An angel knelt down to help me up.
He discovered a note lying in the grass.
We tried to read it but it didn’t make sense.
Someone realised it was a picture drawn in letters.

We went back home to decipher the page.
The picture was of a smile.
To our delight the book had returned home too.
Put neatly back in its place.

The dust fairies had pulled it back in
As a surprise for the angels and me.
The only evidence was the disturbed dust
And a cunning letter smile.

Reflections

So enraptured by your reflection. I was content to just have that because if I turned around it might confirm your existence. I would have to accept that you were real and I would no longer have an excuse to say “no”.

Sometimes I'm just so angry at people and the world, but i have no idea why
and all I can do to make myself better is to break useless things and to let myself cry.
I wonder if any really knows me, and why I automatically hide feelings away
concerned eyes and caring hands ask me what's wrong and I hesitate to say.
I don't want to tell them, I can't be bothered to make them to see
Sometimes I just want to be left to myself, I just want people to let me be.

I heard an echo from within the dark.
I didn’t see you standing in the shadows,
concealed by coarse brick alleyways.

Could you save me from myself?
Force me to feel again?

Leaves flew round in whirlwinds,
mixed with the litter and dust.
Its low rustling and my heavy breathing the only sounds.

Did someone tell me I was beautiful once?
I think so.

She looked back over her long meandering life, wondering at the things she did and why she didn't do some things, but the one question that haunted her relentlessly,
Why did people care about someone who had done nothing more than offer them some good conversations and a little hope.

Is that all it took to fall in love?

She hoped so.

And in the end, will I ever have said something of consequence?
Even if not, somehow it doesn't matter.
It helps me, which allows me to help people who can't help themselves.
And that matters to me.

Someone's story

I asked you to bruise your fingertips for me
To write me a song on your morning walk.
Fed up of relying on a dreamcatcher to keep my hopes afloat
I spent my days breathing other people’s smoke.

Our eyes watered under fluorescent lights
as we mourned the lotus flowers eaten by dogs.
Sulphurous matches lit your work by night
As letter by letter you carved our story.

I sent a message by pigeon over the rooftops to tell you
I no longer wanted to see you by the light of the moon.
Wind chimes resounded through the air
The gift you gave to remind me you're there.

A little girl asked me why I laughed
‘because the world is ridiculous.
They lied when they said people get what they deserve.’

I stole a kiss in the alley behind the deserted house
Hours before it was engulfed, kerosene doused.
The entrance to the church said it was going to be alright
Not just written, but illuminated in lights.

He asked me about tomorrow.
I asked him about today.
Then as if to confirm a stranger walked past.
‘Don’t worry' he said, 'it’ll be ok’

Keep breathing.

And do you remember how to breathe?
You’ll need to when you want to scream.
When your fingernails are worn
and your tear ducts ache.

I long to slow dance on old wooden floors
And feel the need to clap when I say I don’t believe in fairies.
I want to be in awe of the magician with his cards
And not understand that people can be cruel.

But instead I drive over tarmac roads
And agree with the logic of unbelieving sceptics.
I know the magician has practised for years
And feel no surprise that atrocities aren't news.

Do you know why I cry?
And why I scratch at the walls?
and soon when you want to scream,
Will you remember how to breathe?

Cold

Dark.
My skin is chilled
Tears like ice on my cheeks.
Eyelids painfully cold against my eyes.
The wind is sharp
My fingers hurt
My ankles are stiff
Strands of hair whip my face.
Wrap my inadequate clothes closer around me.
The sun is no more for today
Black clouds filled with daggers replace it.
So drenched I’m cold.
So cold it hurts.
So hurt I’m tired.
Dark, cold and raining.
Deprived even of my shadow for company, the weather relentlessly attacks.
Even the stars recoil from the earth tonight.
The winter has frozen me between its sliding doors.
Tired and hurt, i gather the strength to walk.
Even my weariness is cold.

Delirious

Cold sweats drenched and violent whispers echoed
While shallow breaths drew the tunnel walls closer.
Fires engraved ideas on retinas
While ever present demons acted out their plans.

Lightening storms evoked the power of fear
And incense floated in the humidity of night.
Passing shadows of shimmering fairies were endured
As panic was brought on by episodes of sanity.

Mirrors talked back and statues walked
Mocking the hallucinatory inertia.
Nightmares and hopes melded into one
As neuron after neuron the lights burnt out.

The last thing heard was the silence of a world
who had nothing to cure a feverish existence.
So left alone in the cover of darkness
Delirium set in.

Defeated

My hair is a mess
My makeup skewed.
Everytime I look in the mirror
All I see is you.

Change straight into my bathrobes
Don’t answer my door.
They got my hints eventually
Milkman leaves the bills outside on the floor.

Shine a light into my eyes
And I’m sure that you will see
Scarred forever on my retina
Is a clear image of how you used to be.

My hands search for yours in empty air
Always reminded, there’s no-one there.
Have got that song stuck on repeat
I’ve given up, they’ve won.
I accept my defeat.

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.