Sharpened words

 

You sharpen your words

until they are razor blade thin,

and then

you start cutting.

I feel every strike

deep in my skin.

I’m bleeding.

I’m weakening.

I’m feeling like fleeing,

but where would I run

in this room without a door,

this hole into which

I've crawled.

So, I take it.

Every spit curse that cuts into bits

my sense of self-worth.

 

Your words are like acid,

burning over every exposed nerve.

Bubbling the surface until it forms a crust.

I’m trying to swerve the worst

but all I can do is corner myself,

so that you can fling more abuse.

I feel like running,

but where would these feet flee

when all I have

is in this room around me.

Where can I find some peace?

Is it easy for others to see?

Or do I have no hope

and I’m just catching on?

 

Your words are like rope

trying to hang me, but I cling on,

I’m not ready to be a pinata for anyone.

So, you can swing,

you'll miss

For I exist

in the aether and the mist.

I’m words on the breeze,

I’m not just the figure that bleeds

I’m an idea that seeds the earth.

I’m a thought that continues to feed.

I’m hope and I believe in me.

So, keep swinging until you get dizzy

for your words can never make me

accept the pain you see fit to inflict upon me,

just trying to get me to follow your lead,

to provoke an anger

that doesn’t sit within me.

I’ll walk the path that needs me

not the one that only wants to deceive.

Weathered down

 

The northern downpour sends its love

and I long for more. To walk those hills

and graze on nature whilst those skies

above shower me in floods of bliss.

Rose blossom kisses land on my lips

and sweet heartbeats sing out to me.

Here the rain doesn’t fall the same way.

It just clings to the skin. Making you feel

weathered down, like you want to run away.

 

The northern rains cascade down my face

and I wish for more, can you feel my heart

pace? Do you hear it sounding out a drumbeat?

One that outclaps the thunder, and drums

louder than the rain I stand under. If you hear it

beating true, you'll know that this heart is in

loves own space. The countryside is such a

beautiful place, it resembles you in so many ways.

The rain at home misses the rhythm and tone,

It only chills you to the bone, leaving you cold,

wet and alone, like you want to throw it asunder

and run to those hills where the waters flow in

Technicolor.

 

The northern downpour sings to me

and I love the way it fizzles in my ears.

The sound of the drizzle, and the excitement

that only comes when I am there watching hills

over in the distance, the thrills I feel when the

water brings out whole new shades of green.

And I'm jealous of the colours you must have seen.

The precipitation over my heart when I’m away

just sits heavily, as the atmosphere is crushing

down on me, the northern rain feels real

and I love the taste of the deluge as it

chases my thoughts through rose filled

waterfalls, leaving me soaked in the beauty of you.

Broken glass stars

 

Broken glass stars

pierce the black night,

but teenage dreams

no longer sleep

in the sweet girls head,

not since the lights

switched suddenly

from green to red.

Swerving into oblivion,

the passing car

ripped through fog.

Headlights killed

the light stone dead.

 

The crunch

as the hearse

drives up

the gravel road

to the graveyard

beside a church,

the thud as the doors

open and shut.

The gasps at the coffin

so small and innocent.

is lifted and a chapter is closed

 

Bloodied torn fingers

scraping through

the dirt in my mind,

mixing with tears.

Eggshell skin cracks so easily,

I'm brittle and little by little

I'm wearing away.

I sought answers

in the hurt,

to why, on earth

a young life

didn’t deserve

the chance to bloom?

Why was there

a stain on the moon?

Why didn’t it call out

and tell her to move?

but only more questions arose

and more tears flooded my eyes.

 

Life had barely been tasted,

wasted by a mistake, a

moment of madness in the foggy lanes.

But I remember hearing the news.

As youthful innocence

walked out of the room,

replaced with screeching wails

and mourning veils

as we were consumed by the loss

of someone so bright.

Once the darkness began

to drift into the past those days became

stained glass fragments of stories

that could never last.

Though one lasting memory lived on,

the memory of that smile walking away,

waving as if to say

I'll see you all again one day.

 

And life wasn’t ever the same

not once the sun left the sky

and the moonlight glinted on

the rain-soaked road ahead.