Something sad

I often feel my life happens to me while i’m waiting for something else to happen.Is that something sad?...I imagine that we are arguing, that my cheeks are red with anger and him calm. He tried to touch me but I push him away. He’s making the big gesture and deep within; under the anger rejoice is ringing. I feel the broken record turning. I can’t believe I’m back here again. Obviously not wanting to let him go, he seems to have remained in the background ready to resurface whenever he feels like it. Bastard. We still feel each other in the room, I can’t not smile or look and I can see that it’s the same for him too. When he walked into the office to say something. Playing it cool I tried not to read him, but he was called away and he never said to me what he hoped. His words never left him and I feel sick. I bounce between the same two. I feel like I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life. I can’t feel anything beyond this loneliness that eats at me now.

I pray something picks me up...

We were both talking to our friends, not paying each other any kind of attention when he leaned in and softly swept my fringe away from my eyes, delicately his fingertips touched me skin. "Your fringe was being all arrogant." Startled I didn't move, from my perch in The Old Blue Last. S. gave me the look and I shuck my head, no more from this one.

Opus 23

It's not like an ugly feeling. It's like a small wave that starts to surface close to my stomache and washes along past my heart into my head where is waits to be recognised. I bought a pair of underwear today. I pictured myself standing infront of him in them. JINXED. I wish i were back in london, and surrounded by crowds and lost again. But I'm alone in my family home waiting for something to happen, from him, maybe from me. I consulted an online magic eight ball and it's words were cruel and possibly correct. I can't forget last night and his drunkness and his honest words 'You never call XX kisses X' so at 18.45 i let it go for 4 rings and I lost my nerve and hung up. I am petrified. Another wave rolls up...the feeling that it's coming to an end...

The end of the affair.

All that is really demonstrated was that our future would be the same as out past, and that the sin we had done once, and with loathing, we would do many times over

Oscar Wilde



Weren’t you just somebody I slept with. In an hour when things seem less certain then they did at 7. I feel myself wounded, by myself and others. By passed words and words that lingered but were never said are haunting me. They asked me questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. In the process of the piece I forgot what is was about, and standing solid and still in the gallery there was some comfort in the fact that they didn’t fully understand its truth and you. The space hollow and empty projected my anxiety about what is happening to me. The lack of control I have over the new; how he seems to be with me always, while kept at a distance. Does he think about me. Yes? He is what I asked for, something new and fresh. But it’ll never be these, because I am still here, the old will always be in the bond. I will never vanish and my insecurities draw me back to the man on the hill. Oh wont you treat me for my disease. The black heart. My romance in empty like the caste that stands pink, cold and coffin like in the corner waiting to be read. I CAN’T CRY. I look at this object and without thought it is me, to its core. It drained me and I feel left and neglected to now smash up. Hoping to restore some kind of former glory. Where did that girl go, the one that seemed so sure of it all and herself. I wonder if our parallel lines will join and defer, like all the others. I say I can’t take another, but that is a big fat lie. Nothing is ever enough.

Ready to escape

My attention is restored when I hear the rain starting. I’ve forgotten how long i’ve been here, the bath water is still. I sink further in and fully submerge exhailing. There’s something about holding him at arms lengths that comforts me and then reminds me how close it’s all becoming. I’ve been too busy to worry about such trival things such as boys and it’s always a lovely surprised when my phone announces his thoughts, sweet thoughts with kisses. I come up for air and rest my head on the lip. I go over and over as always, phrases and words circle. My sisters words the strongest. ‘I can just tell, when you spoke he starred at your lips.’ He starred at my lips. Dyed red for him, colour on my lids. I had waited and waited, and was just about to give up, I saw him rushing in. What a fool, but more sadness then foolishness. I’m jaded and soured. I am already half out the door, ready to make an escape, to become the victim of another failure.

To dream of white rats denotes...

To see rats in your dream, signifies feelings of doubts, guilt and/or envy. You are having unworthy thoughts that you are keeping to yourself but are eating you up inside. Alternatively, it denotes repulsion. To see a white rat in your dream, denotes that in your time of distress, you will receive assistance from an unexpected source.

I woke with relief, wondering why. something passed me, possibly in the night or maybe that afternoon, but my breathing seems less quick and... i close my eyes and... i'm trying not to think too much... but there's a little voice in the back of my mind that i can't bring myself to tell you what she's saying.

I go back to holding my breathe, just for a little bit longer.

white to blank.

There's no hiding now. He's cut off all my hair, and i now have to face the music, they say. It's almost like he's thrusting me to over come my over riding insecurities. But there is only so much i can do and i cried for too long last night. worringly things are definately coming to a head and i hope that when the jump arrives i wont be doing it alone. I almost didn't think about him today. Which was in fact not much of an effort. I think the patients thing is kicking in. I'm almost at a blank on what's about to happen next, i see tonight, sitting round a table in a pub with my friends. Tomorrow in the workshop and dancing at the Laban..... and then blank.

Dreams come true, but not for me and you

still laughing, which is all we seem to be doing these days, she hands me the metro. 'have you read your horoscope'

Dreams can come true, in relationships just as much as in other arenas. Sometimes the boy really does get the girl. And vice versa. I know there are a few lions out there who’ve soured to the whole relationship deal lately. Give it another go this week.

But it's right I am too sour and i dimiss it, but yet i am writing to you now.

all i have left is time and patients.

small sad victory.

All sunday I laughed, at myself and some at him. How i had left him in the middle of the night, how i would disappear out of his life and become a mystery... the one that got away. that made me smile, a sad small victory. i found a poem i had written a few years ago about nights like that, and i see the change in me, another small sad victory. as i park my car on my return to the city and my other life she questions 'who's wallet it this?' picking the left object off my car floor. I feel my cheeks blush, like a slap in the face. i try to stand still but can't. i find his card and leave a message on his phone. why couldn't it have been a simple exchange? this is not the beginning of something, i feel that deep into my bones, i wont prelong something that needn't be. i promise that to myself.

... Silently I knew it was coming...

his arm heavy on my chest i watch him sleep in the darkness of his room. he seems so vulnerable breathing a million miles away, so peaceful too. so real and human, the icon faded. this handsome man helpless and shattered, he whispers over and over for me to stay, to sleep all night but lying here wanting to kiss his pretty face i am already gone, because i don't care and i have won the game he has no idea about. my symbol tonight looked at me the way i had waited for and kissed me all better, thank you.

Sundays are for loved ones, only!!

Vases and Vases of peach, pink and yellow roses fill house and its air. A sweet smell from another sweetest of sweet days

She asked me if it was difficult, to be around him, like we do. Honestly, no. It's never difficult and always lovely. I think about this and realize when I'm with him I feel that he would never want to be anywhere else. A really simple feeling but satisfying and more than enough. We walked soaked with the storm following us and came across piles and piles of roses left from Columbia market for people to pick. I filled my arms with them. A snap shot was taken. The rain falling fast and hundreds of roses lying in my arms and him telling me his stories. How he had made me laugh in the coffee shop about his horror story and I was taken back to the beginning when he used to tell me stories and he used to laugh like that. I forgot how long it's been. It's as if I stopped being his friend and became a 'something else' and now I'm back there again, and there's nothing else I could possibly want.