Valentine

I love…

Oh, how I love.

Brighter than the stars… wilder than the sea.

You’re there, and I’m grinning. 17 years old and head over heels,

Wondering what comes next but not really caring, because…

You.

Just you.

This smile that’s going to break my face one day,

But you’ll be there to put it back together

Like you fixed my trust. Did you fix it, or did I?

Does it matter? Because I trust you, either way. I trust you

With my life. My life, which is your life. One great big adventure

With explorations and discoveries that make me feel as if

I landed on the moon.

I’m here in the heavens and you are the stars. So bright, so close

That I’m on fire. You are my fire starter

Burning up the skies until

I

Can’t

Breathe.

I don’t want to. I want to stop time, right here, right now.

I hold my breath

And everything slows. Your face, suspended

In front of mine for an eternity.

Exactly as it should be, right where you belong.

You are home.

You are where I’m meant to be. I’m here, with you, and we are ‘us’.

Stronger together, funnier, louder, more alive. We’re winning

At life. At love… We’ve won the world.

A whole new world. So many memories to make

And time stretching out before us.

I am in love. You are my heart and

We love.

Oh…

How we love.

 

Advertisements

The Wrong Question?

I’ve been trying to answer the question, ‘Why do you frighten me?’ and I’ve been getting nowhere fast.

I enjoy your company, I adore your face… your humour entertains me, your charm beguiles me. Talking with you is wonderful, learning about you and sharing with you feels just right. But not talking with you is also fabulous; walking hand in hand with few words spoken feels like I’ve found something I’d lost. No awkward silences, just happy ones.

Being close to you drives me to distraction, every single time… The thought of your touch before it happens thrills me. Every single time I see you I am bowled over again, and every day that I don’t see you, I miss you.

And there I have my answer. You don’t frighten me, missing you frightens me. I don’t ever want you not to be there.

New Year

2018

‘New Year, new me’, I’m seeing, ‘New story to begin’

But let’s not shelve the year just yet to let the new one in.

A year of faith and growing, a year over so fast,

A year of making memories so sweet they’ll surely last.

Some experiences uncomfortable but still a learning means

Some sad goodbyes I’ve uttered, the end of hopeful dreams.

But in their place has flourished relationships anew

With promise underlying, and old friends proving true.

I will not write a new book. My life won’t ‘start again’,

I truly wouldn’t want it to; I will reflect, and then

I’ll start another chapter, with characters we’ve met;

My lovely little family, who never do forget

The value of each other even when we’re far apart.

Advice, a shoulder, just some time to listen. In my heart

I know I’ll always have them, and soon, some others too;

This coming year my family is about to grow and bloom.

And you. Your heart is honest, and seems to mirror mine,

This New Year I will get to see just how we intertwine.

Let’s welcome in the New Year, sending promise far and wide

And look forward to memories with good people at my side.

Recurring Nightmares

Back in that room – a dark, cold room. I can still see the outline of the window, but it seems smaller now. It’s just a square of pale light, the only light in the room, barely 8 inches wide.

The train is passing again; the room seems to shake and the noise is loud enough that I know, without speaking, that my voice would not be heard anyway. Not that it matters, when there is no one to listen.

But then I hear it, as the train fades away; there is that voice again, spiteful and bitter. I can’t understand the words – what language is that? – but I understand the tone well enough. Teeth chattering with fear, I reverse away until my bare back is pressed hard against the plaster, cold and damp. I don’t want to make a sound, don’t want to risk revealing my position.

The voice spits and hisses and then I hear something else; a liquid sloshes at my feet, and I smell petrol. Heart racing, thoughts muddled, I start to really panic. My chest is tight and I’m finding it hard to breathe, and all I want is light; all I want is to be able to see the face in front of me and understand.

And then my wish is granted, as he lights a match. Then I can see him, as he lets it fall and the room is awash with flames. That face I know. I’m screaming, as he laughs. No door, no escape route but that tiny window.

My hands bleed as I strike the glass and break it, clearing the shards with my fists. My wrists are cut, and I’m watching myself bleed out, knowing that time is gone, seeing the red fade to black.

That First Time

Thinking back… remembering the chaos before the calm.

In the corner, let’s sit in the corner. Did I bring my book? Ohhhh I hope I did… I need something to focus on. I feel sick.

Why do I do this to myself? Why would I meet a stranger? What if I can’t think of anything to say? Stop thinking, this isn’t helping. Get coffee. Coffee… black, no sugar. Coffee helps.

The book. Let’s read… if I focus on the book I won’t be focused on the nerves. Panic or excitement… I’m not sure which is stronger. These butterflies might choke me.

What if… just that. What if. Too many ways this could go, too many thoughts to straighten out.

Coffee. Drink the coffee. I could go then, if I wanted to. I do want to… and I don’t. I picture that face.

What if… There again. What if this is all wrong? What if I am not prepared? Drink the coffee and go. He probably isn’t coming anyway. He won’t even know I didn’t wait.

So. This book. I’ve read a chapter now, but none of it is sticking. These names mean nothing; I cannot focus. I’ve read it twice… this is stupid. Put down the book, and drink the coffee. Drink the coffee, and go.

Then I glance up and I see a face I’ve seen before. That face looks kind… and what a smile! Don’t forget to breathe… ohh I’m flushing… I hope it’s not too obvious…

He’s gone again, and the butterflies are back… then he takes a seat and they slow their fluttering. I feel myself smile. He’s talking to me but I’m not listening, just watching his face.

Did he ask me something then? Why are social situations so hard?? All I can hear is the music… The Script… ‘I’m Yours’. Forever to be associated with that smile.

I found my voice… small talk. I can do small talk. A walk then, he suggests… and I feel those butterflies clogging up my chest again. A walk…

Trying to feel relaxed. Trying to seem like I do this every day. But I don’t… I stumble… it’s okay, keep breathing. He makes me laugh, that helps… along with the breathing. Keep talking, keep walking; it’s fine.

And I stop, to look at his face, and he looks right back at me and smiles, showing me the dimples again. He kisses me then, and the world is perfect.

 

 

 

Preoccupation

[prɪˌɒkjʊˈpeɪʃ(ə)n]

noun

1) The state or condition of being preoccupied or engrossed with something.

2) A subject or matter that engrosses someone

Synonyms: concentration, concern, obsession, fixation

“A soul preoccupied with great ideas best performs small duties. – Harriet Martineau

Whatever the day brings, my preoccupation comes with it, running like a trailer through my mind when I should be thinking about other things. But other things don’t make my heart race, or brighten the very sky for me, or make me smile that smile so wide it hurts. My small duties get done, even as the movie behind my eyes plays a scene so touching, or erotic, or ridiculous… and my consciousness is drawn away from the mundane, with a soundtrack all its own.

I’m singing out loud.

Unsure

What happens on the days when I don’t know if I can do it alone?

What should I do when it’s 3am and the tears won’t stop?

When I close my eyes and all I see is his face, how do I make that go away?

How did I fall into this so quickly?

How do I finish it?