Monday, April 11, 2016

(anti) love letter

you will never be to me
what you promised to be
gifting words that weren't your own
you crept into my mind so quietly
my heart is not your holiday home
and you will never be to me
what I convinced myself you were
believing everything you had ever said
my chest became vacant the day you chose her
yet you still won't leave my fucking head

rome wasn't built in a day/work in progress

incense is burning gently on the window sill
the background music, daughter's 'landfill'
an orange glow is filtering through the fence
my mind is stuck, heart broken in past tense
mascara stained cheeks flush patchy red
calm in the room, chaos in my head
a shattered chest makes it hard to breathe
these pieces create me, and who I will be

Sunday, April 10, 2016

affect

"I don't know," she whispers through a slight smirk. Words soft and quiet, almost like a confession she didn't want to admit to herself, let alone anyone else. Her hand sweeps away and tucks strands of bleached damaged hair behind her ear, revealing flushed cheeks; pink and warm, like her. Her softened eyes avert to her hands, picking at stress-bitten fingernails. Distracted in her own thoughts, she goes silent. That's when you lose her, at least for a few seconds. Physically, she's still sitting in the booth, in all of her skirt-wearing marshmallow-scented glory. Her eyes are glazed over, lost in deep thought. Suddenly her smile melts away with a heavy sigh, "I don't know," she repeats. This time louder, more troubled. Rosy cheeks drain to a pale complexion, brows furrow in a dangerous mixture of confusion and frustration. She squeezes and bends her fingers to crack them. The skin straining to a bright white then flooding a crimson shade when released. "There's just, there's something about him," she groans pathetically at her own words, dropping her head into her hands. "I know how I sound," she says, words muffled. After a few seconds, she giggles. Not in a this-is-funny way, but more of a my-life-is-a-joke way. Lifting her head, she makes eye contact. The smile is back, but sadder. Tears are welling but she's fighting against them. She didn't want to cry anymore. There wasn't anything to cry about, really. "I hate when people have that affect, you know?" her voice cracks softly, "I hate that I have an extensive vocabulary, a penchant for writing but no words or sentences I attempt to put together will make anyone understand how and why I feel this way," she sighs quietly, the smirk reappears. Her mind tracing his name. "I can't explain it because... I don't understand either."

Monday, April 4, 2016

you place your worth in something temporary then wonder why your happiness isn't permanent

why I love live music

a concoction of liquor is spilt on the dark timber bench of the divey bar
the surrounding crowd is a diverse mixture of intriguing individuals
a drink clutched in their grip, each with their own styles, quirky mannerisms, pasts & paths
everyone, every person present in this very moment isn't here by chance but choice
an assortment of life grouped together, united tonight for the same reason
movement on the stage shuffles the crowd closer, loud conversation tapers to quiet whispers
for a moment everything is still, the atmosphere heavy with eager anticipation
a throat clears, hands are held high, wood taps like a ritual in a cross... one, two, three
powerful sound deafeningly erupts from the bright lighted focal point of the venue
the plethora of bodies below are suddenly animated excitedly by the familiar noise
lyrics sung soulfully are mirrored back in heartfelt imitation by hundreds of voices
indescribable intense emotion hits deeply within by the words that healed wounds
limbs flail unforgiving & wild to the music, tears well at the sheer energy of it all
a stranger beside offers an empathetic look, comfort gifted in mutual understanding
the music reverberates vehemently, the outside world & problems cease to exist
a moment of tranquillity found in an intimate instrumental resonating deep inside
time appears to simultaneously slow down & move far too fast, the night abruptly ends
ears ringing, feet tapping, the travel back to the house feels a little less like home
days, weeks & months go by, the distinct feeling remains long after the encore

concept

A light gust of wind playfully twirls fallen golden leaves bathed in the pink light of dusk. I watch from the warmth of the inside of my cosy home, hands clutched around a mug of creamed coffee. My gaze averts from the antique window frame to the hot chestnut coloured liquid held close to my chest. It rises and lowers with the rhythm of my gentle, calm breathing. Exhaling deeply I close my eyes, intently listening to the silence. For the first time I feel at ease, content with who and where I am. My mind is rested, my heart healed. Your name finally forgotten.