These poems are taken from my latest collection

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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.