you made me feel
Alive
And cared for.

Then when you left.
I forgot.
The feeling of warmth.

But soon you returned
And with the touch of a hand
Caressed my hair.

Thankyou.
For coming back.

Seeing Purple

There’s so much more to all of this, me
But I just can’t tell you.
I lead a double life you see
I’m like the colour purple, both red and blue.

I appear to be more one colour than the other
But you can’t tell of which I have more
Its more complicated you see.
I mix my own colours, swirl then into a blur.

I could never be either red or blue
But people don’t really think about it
They just look at the purple you see.
I would feel strange with only the one.

There are people who are just one colour
But sometimes red moves to the blue’s paint shelf.
They think they’ll have a better life you see.
And over time some become mixed.

They are still red and blue
But people only see the resulting purple.
They don’t fully understand each other you see.
Find it hard to comprehend how they could be both.

So they just see purple.
They just accept that you somehow work.
Few people see the cogs and the wheels you see,
Mixing the paint into that secondary colour.

Blinded by warm evening sunshine,
Her vision was filled with reflections and shadows.
She didn't think on yesterday or tommorrow
Or the Beatles song that was playing with its tin sound.
She wondered how many other girls there were out there
Squinting at the evening sun,
watching a green leaf glow in the light,
thoughtfully placed with the pink flowers.
But she wasn't concerned with patterns and orderly processes
or who had invented the glass that the sun shone through.
Everything is baffling if you think it back far enough.
Eventually no one knows.
So instead she focused on that moment
and on the tiny rainbows created when she narrowed her eyes.
She could try and understand later.
For now she was content with their mystery.

Potting plants in the gentle morning rain.
Calming, wet earth surrounding my senses.
Fresh, cold air through my polluted lungs.
Distant laughter of next door's children.
Earthworms burrow down beneath my fingers.
All around me, I stare at the world through droplets of rain
Slightly distorted.
Slightly happier.....

The shadows encircling my eyes
cannot be dispersed by the sun.
I allow myself to drown in moonlight,
the notes playing on in the dark.
The sun gives up, letting the hail hurtle down,
softening to rain as if to say sorry.
Gusts of wind blow delicate pink petals
accross my tarmac drive.
Doting, loyal eyes watch me carefully,
her uncomprehending tail swaying in the dulled room.
The music carries on throughout,
my brain letting my heart take over my fingers.
The wind and rain fade back into the earth
letting the sun out for one more try.

Today is not the day for dreams or dancing
It is not the day for love or tears.
Tomorrow will not be the day to voice your views.
And it will not be the day to face your fears.

The day to follow your heart
And to smile at strangers
Was yesterday my friend.
Not today

Every now and again, i wake up and feel as though i'm joining in the same game as everyone else, but the rules i know are slightly different. I play their game because that's what everyone else seems to know. Secretly I prefer my version, my rules, but no-one else seems to enjoy it as much as i do; I can only play my game alone. They don't want to abandon the game they know,the tricks they've learnt, the other people playing it.
So I continue to play by other people's rules, playing out alternative versions in my head, hoping that one day, someone will want to join in.

Your dreams are few and far between
passing in and out of shadows that dim their sheen.
Your swirling knowledge is true but frail
leaving your faith to grasp at its tail.

The wings of your angels are broken and torn
they cannot save you, their legs are worn.
So dust off your smile, cloud this mysterious world,
forget your lost faith and use your fear as gold.

Raise your head, and open your ears, your eyes
Obeserve the people around you, have you noticed their cries?
Feel the storms and the calm, use your tears to relieve.
Just let them know you’re here, you don’t have to believe.

Sometimes I picture it like water dripping out of a barrell. No matter how much I turn the tap, it won't stop leaking. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but its always seeping out.
I thought I'd gradually refilled the barrell, fixed the tap...I had. But one unexplainable action, a mistake I suppose, and now the tap is broken again. I know how to fix it but somehow it doesn't seem so easy this time.
Meanwhile, the water drips.

What is it that I talk of?
Self esteem.

The sky here is so clear at night. Not sure i can describe the beauty of the stars.
My skin is still numb from the cold, creeping inwards from the outside.
I thought i was forgetting how to feel...consoling and sympathising, yet refusing to immerse myself, determined to be detached.
But in the absence of night clouds, i'm left in awe.
I haven't captured, and can't release the words. Paint and music fail me.
They draw me away, pull out the tears.

Take what you will or can from my words.
I can't explain the only thing that makes sense to me

are you someone to make it all go away?
protect me from the cruel harsh world
to wrap me up in your skin.
take me to a place where i can hide
i tried the place where everyone else seems to go
i didn't fit in there
so im finding my own secret place
come with me?

I have nothing to say anymore. I'm empty.
Is there anything to fill?
I need some magic, call up the spirits.
Did you train the light that follows your words?
Or is it a process of diffusion, balancing out the darkness before them.
Does the beat of your step echo in your dreams?
Promise to me lend me your angels.
Do you feel the same as the people you touch?
Don't read my confused eyes.
I'm empty. I have nothing of worth to say to you.

On a silent autumn morning in my corner of the world.
A red balloon floated accross the nervous velvet grass.
Under no ones' control but the wind.
A visiting stranger in a beautiful land.
It hung for just a moment, hesitant as to where to go
and then, just like that
it was gone.

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”.