These poems are taken from my latest collection
If you do buy a book- a review helps SO MUCH!
He Let A Demon In
His once delicate voice
now so harsh and deep,
he let a demon in while dreaming
he couldn’t fight it, far too weak,
he now talks about suicide and fantasises over death
I just hope he says goodbye to me, before he takes his final breath.
My heart aches and aches
he doesn’t hug me like we’re in 2005
I don’t mention it though, he’s in pain
and I’m just grateful he’s still alive,
when we touch he’s freezing, he makes my body far too cold
what’s inside of him is not human, stolen, gone is his soul.
He doesn’t have long left
the darkness has a tight grip on him
he’s drained, he’s empty, he’s hurting
so he’d rather drown than try to swim,
we talk less and less and less as the weeks go speeding by
so I’ve faced the tragic fact that soon he is going to die.
His once delicate voice
now so harsh and deep,
he let a demon in while dreaming
he couldn’t fight it, far too weak,
he now talks about suicide and fantasizes over death
I just hope he says goodbye to me before he takes his final breath.
I Don’t Bleed in Front Of You
Just because I don’t bleed in front of you
doesn’t mean that I never bleed,
the wounds that hurt the most
are the ones I don’t let you see.
Don’t be scared because you are my everything
I won’t get too close, I know you don’t need pressure,
but I’ve tried to protect you and will continue to
even if we are never together.
I need to thank you
you taught me that love isn’t always texting back quick,
passionate sex and handholding
I need to thank you
you taught me that love is giving your all and not wanting a thing back
love is seeing way past her self-loathing.
So, just because I don’t bleed in front of you
doesn’t mean that I never bleed,
the wounds that hurt the most
are the ones I don’t let you see.
No Interpreter 3
You tell me I don’t make any sense now when I talk
and it’s suddenly changed, the way I present myself, the way I walk,
you tell me you’d like an interpreter to understand my speech
but I’m sorry, there is no interpreter, not for this language of grief.
Cigarette Butts
Cigarette butts are now my fascination
it’s the irreversible effect,
life then death
a bit like torture
it goes on, then it goes out
but it cannot be forgotten
the change is irreversible.
I like the way they are pushed, shoved,
squashed into little holes
forced into awkward positions
forgotten about straight away.
Cigarette butts are now my fascination
it’s the irreversible effect,
light on, light out
like a light to heaven glowing
crying out to be seen
but no,
it’s used and abused
like one train of thought,
choked on daily
sucking the life out of it.
I like the way the foot drags
along the stone floor
putting the butt out with no, no effort
like torture it goes on, then it goes out
but it cannot be forgotten.