Tonight you left me breathless
You grabbed me by my hair stared,
then kissed me deeply.
You tethered our lips and my soul followed.

As we interlaced our bodies,
I wondered where you'd gone.
My husband, so gentle and caring,
had taken me by surprise.

Your eyes normally closed for a kiss,
blazed and made me crave more.
You broke away from our pleasure
Leaving me altogether undone.

Who was this man? I'd seen you daily
yet here before me was a new being.
I felt a slave to your passion
British men don't kiss like that!!

Night heat, sweat, and alcohol
lifted the veil of lace from my eyes
you, were now my possessor
I your possessed.

Turning forty had made you an aggressor
And, we the transgressors of the night
Breathlessly I managed to stutter
"You don't kiss like this"

As I shuddered you replied
"Yes, I ******* do "
And continued with your displays.
My body, the storyteller of our pleasure.

We live so close to one another
I sometimes have to wonder
Are we destined to always meet?
Are we always just going to greet each other as friends?
Smile and talk about the weather while both wondering
whether we were once one.
I know you, you know me
We joke, we smile, we share wit and banter
Yet, all the while I see you as me and me as you.
And as you I want me.

Eyes closed.
Darkness envelopes my mind.
Under my eyelids letters dance,
join and create.
Like two lovers seeking through caresses
these letters form and culminate in words.
Sensuous sentences slip into my mind,
like a lover slips under a sheet.
Tumbling together writhing for space,
imagery, sentences and truth spill out.
Caressing my eyes with beauty
these words combine and come to being.
Hot need is found in the words.
Love, addiction, fear and hope.
Like a life borne out of love
poetry is made.

Have you ever realised how close a heart is to an egg?
When broken, shards are discarded, nonchalance remains.
What? So you broke an egg there's eleven more in the carton.
But, I don't have a dozen hearts.
When a heart breaks it takes more
than all the King's horses and all the King's men
to put my uneven heart back together again.

Hearts are caged like battery hens,
yet when free to roam they roost in the wrong home.
Affairs of the heart clot it's valves, congeals like a cold yolk.
Here, have a dozen roses, feel better?
I'd rather a dozen eggs, then when one breaks it's replaced
Bards and harps write and sing of the heart strings
never the cracks a heart, whilst broken brings.

What do you do when all you want is to be elsewhere?
Not, another town, another job, another life,
but elsewhere.
What do you do when a child's scream of enjoyment
makes you start to cry, cry for that child's future disappointment,
your current disappointment?
What do you do when you feel envy at a bird in the sky?
Wanting to float on the thermal, up, up and then away.
But, you and that child who's enjoyment sent you spiralling,
have to remember, Icarus.
He soared away into the sun, that baleful, always watching,
globe of fire.
Purified by death.

Its funny that the first four letters of HEART, spells hear.
Because I don't think you heard mine break.

It broke into shards that were hard to piece back together.
No glue or time or cardiologist, could mend or make it whole again.

A delicate ***** that pumps life through our veins, synonymous
with love and strength, as delicate as
an orchid.

I was born with curly hair,
a bubbly laugh
and a blue eyed stare.

I was born with freckles on my nose,
always a need to know
and a reason to share.

I was born as part of a vanishing twin,
always preferring to be by myself
and always knowing I wasn't alone.

I reabsorbed my other twin, the
chromosomal abnormality, a blighted ****
if you will.

I put my duality down to this abnormality,
yet, always wanting to know,
my curiosity always on show.

I wonder why I came to be?
With the other me fading away.
I look for others with my freckles, blue eyes and grin.

I've never found her or him.

I was born a half of a whole,
maybe it's why sometimes I'm light, other times dark.
My twin left its mark, but, I think I'm the dark half.

What might have been is no more.
Time to forget, and leave regrets to the past.
Emotional attrition has no place in going forward.
I loved you.
Did you love me?
I'll never know, it was never to be.
I'll remember the way we laughed
I'll remember the way we glanced at each other
I'll never be sorry for loving you
No repentance is needed
We both took different paths.
My regret is that I still see your face in my dreams
I'll be contrite this night, lying by my husband and
Not you

You can philosophise all day long,
this world contains more than we know.
More than we see, and in some cases
some things we've already seen.
That strong sensation of having been somewhere,
of knowing what a place had once been.
Never getting lost in new places, of remembering old faces.

This precognition scares science, they label it
'Schizophrenic', 'anxiety' and my personal favourite;
the 'dissociative identity disorder'.
Here's a straight jacket for you!
I prefer déjà vu,
such an elegant French description,
even better, they don't hand out a prescription to 'cure' it!

Déjà entendu, "already heard",
the experience of feeling sure that one has already heard something,
ever thought your name was being called?
That you heard whispers in the night,
Only to be told it's the 'house settling'?
How many of us have shook our heads,
and said 'I'm getting old, I'm hearing things!'

These phenomena don't come and go
they stay, they are older than time,
they've always been, just never seen.
Platitudes placate your puzzled mind,
but what if these things are just rips in time?
A leak from the past, occasionally a glimpse of the future?
Or maybe it's all just history's forgotten soft sighs*.

Traffic speeds past
People go slow.
Days are long
Nights are short.
Silence is deep
People are shallow.
Love is a need
Like water and air.
Food interrupts
A nice interruption.
Dolls for girls
Guns for boys.
Boys now men
Girls now mothers.
A Mothers tears flow faster than traffic
For the boy with a plastic gun, now a dead man,
a dead soldier.

Darkness, hides a shallow shadow.
Hiding from bright light.
The shadow moves slowly almost
hallowly along the narrow paths.
Head bent in friarly supplication, but no
kindness or peace follows this hollow shadow,
the shadow follows a dim tallow light
candle flame dim, he knocks at the door
13 Miller's Court, as far from a court could be,
he enters the room, a grate, a kettle, a bed, a settle
a painted doxy, a Catholic cross.
He takes these things in along with the broken pane of glass
the pane of glass will not be the last pain, 13 Miller's Court
will see tonight.

Bruised like soft ripe fruit,
by your meaty jealous hands.

Is it by chance that Da Vinci's "La Gioconda"
is named as such?
All propaganda, speculations and theories all based
on a smile.
Etymology of the name Gioconda is such:
"Friendly and communicative, Gioconda has plenty of charm and magnetism. A sociable extrovert, she is pleasant, cheerful and very likeable. She was born to express herself, interact with others and have a good time. In effect, she can sometimes appear rather disconcerting."
"Rather disconcerting", now that's an understatement of the enigmatic
Mona Lisa's smile!
A beguiling smile, what are you thinking whilst sat for the maestro?
Is it an affair of the heart?
Is it a smirk? A smirk of knowing.
Are you even real?
A woman or as some suggest, a beautiful boy, Da Vinci's muse/lover?
Does your beauty mask a hidden triumph, your magnetism over time?
You, have become immortal, looked upon and gazed at, where Gods have not.
Did you know as you sat amongst the smell of paint,
that your fate was sealed not with a kiss but a smile?

As I lay me down to sleep I pray the demons from my door will keep.
As I drift into unconscious, I pray the monsters aren't adventurous.
As I remember all I love, I pray a hand to guide from above.
As oblivion takes its hold I hope a beacon takes to light and gives the demon its own fright.
As I softly slumber, I pray the demon he doth lumber back to whence he came.
I've fought this day long and hard, today I stay, and that demon he will weaken and allow me and others to fight on, and see dawn's light as confirmation that we did all flee the monster's mausoleum.

Sober thoughts crowd my mind
Happiness I cannot find
Gloomy weather, gloomy mind

Black bile, one of the archaic humours
Rhyming aptly with tumours
Cancerous thoughts within my mind

Pensively I look for salvation
Maybe a cheery salutation
But my melancholic mind keeps me as a brooder

I vent my spleen, searching for the vaccine
Annoyance acting as a screen for the truth
That all I want to do is scream and scream and scream.

Opposites attract.
Sameness detracts.
Love fades.
Life wanes.
Darkness can warm.
Light can freeze.
Caught in life's cycles,
Spinning outward to the end.
Caught within a breeze.

Why is darkness treated with fear?
As much is done in the light as in the dark.
Much maligned our primal senses heightened we see no light in the dark.
Yet, in the dark we are rested, in the dark we test our senses, in the dark we are even, in the dark we are one.

Foul deeds may require the blanket of dark.
But the reaper calls at any time, ready or not he will come, his scythe sweeps and you are gone.
Light or dark, love or hate in each opposite you make a whole you.
In the light we see the dark.
In the dark we see the light*.

Ever thought you had friends you'd know until you die?
I did.
I wish with all my heart that a clock could be rewound,
revisit old mistakes, erase them and rewrite.
Life isn't like that.
Life is a ***** in heat scratching away at mental scabs.
"Friends are the family we choose ourselves"
*******.
It's a fridge magnet quote for a reason.
                        ~
Fickle, feckless,
Replaceable
Idiotic individuals
Endlessly
Needing a
Damn hard
Slap.
* Stepford friends*.

Hush, and feel the flush
and crush upon your body
as the air is expelled in
a gushing, rushing torrid of
****** memories.
Damning you to want more,
you want to thrash at the bedclothes
needing to find that release once more.
Yet you lay there spent in the morning's
hush, laid upon the chest of the one that
has made your heart sing, ears ring and
left you corrupted at the core.
The rise and fall of in sync breathing
is the only sound in the room
hush, hush, hush.

I write at night, it seems the best way
to deal with the horror of day.
Quietude, peace and darkness surround me
Clears my mind, focuses my thoughts.
Allows me to demonstrate through words
my understanding, of this, they call living.

Living in the light of day, means a lot of
shadow play, fake smiles, small talk,
neighbourly actions, following the rules
to keep you in your place.
Being friendly, making small talk, pretending to care.
When all you want to do is lock them all in a zoo.

Gossip, malice, neighbourly disputes, cars scratched
Dogs defecating, owners not caring, traffic noise
Kids shouting, parents shouting, horns blaring.
Pretence, grievance, affectation, keeping up appearances.
Front door closed, you realise that you're feigning interest.

Hypocrisy reigns during the day.
Pretension, feigning interest, losing your soul to the classes
the masses, paying lip-service to the day.
When all you want is the night and to be able to say
*******. Leave me to the chill calm of the night, and to write.

Majestic midnight weaves it's spell
requiring us to sit and tell
of stories frightening and beguiling
Of scares and prayers
Of lies and truths
Of pain and happiness
Of fright and nightmares
Of redemption and of damnation.
Midnight feeds on emotion
Drink it's potion and offer devotion.
Silent midnight, stays and listens
Watches your tears as they glisten
running down your drawn face
casting no judgement or illumination
on your midnight tears.

The lights were dim,
and the noise was loud,
crowds of people all around.
I lost my way in the throng,
bourne along on the beat of the night.
Cigarettes needed, I left the bar
suddenly there you are.
You tried to chat I wanted none of that
just my smokes and a familiar face,
I tried with grace to let you know
move on, just go.
Just then I I knew my mistake,
you grabbed my arm and hissed in my face
“My name is John”
I tried to smile use some guile,
but you were hell bent, and all that I did seemed to provoke.
I choked the fear down, when I realised we were alone,
how did you get me here?
Wedged between the wall and the cigarette machine.
Croaks were all that I could summon as you undid my buttons,
frozen in fear, switched off from here.
Fight or flight?
Neither just fright.
I remember your smell, your touch, your words
I wanted to scream GO TO HELL but nothing came out.
The kisses were the worst,
no matter how hard I tried to move my head away
your lips, your tongue found their target.
Bruising me, pushing me, grabbing me, groping me
As you pinned my hands behind my back, I gave up,
Just like that.

Have you ever noticed?

Have you ever seen?

Have you ever heard?

Have you ever screamed?

Have you ever touched?

Have you ever felt?

Have you ever asked?

Have you ever received?

Have you ever lived?

Have you ever loved?

Have you ever even noticed?

Alive and kicking, above ground.
At the last gasp, *release

Duality of the soul
good, bad, happy, sad
Loved, unloved
Wanted, unwanted
The malady of morality.
Who would want to live forever today?
Corruption, disease, pain, infection, brutality.
Pop my date of cessation on a notepad,
I'll get around to being, bad looks like the
World already has.

I hear the whisper of rain,
I strain and can hear the heavy droplets talk.
The sound of raindrops hitting liquid caused by bubbles of air oscillating underwater.

Underwater, overwhelmed, baptised in a torrent.
Rolling, churning, bubbling, flooding
Flooded with the now roaring rain.
Silence is underwater, peace is underwater, I am underwater.

The talking rain droplets lied
They weren't talking at all
They were shouting, words like heavy water fell
Fell upon my ears and whispered, "I had died".

Dumbstruck that the news came
so impersonal, so matter of fact.
A text to say you were leaving.
Forever.

The usual spin on 'it's not you it's me'
Came my way, 'I need to find myself'
'I feel stifled' also got a shoe in.
I was impressed the text was not abbreviated.

When I think back people commented on how handsome
you were, was that a sly dig at me?
Whatever, it's passed now.
Time stands still for no man(so I'm told)

So time to stop grieving at your leaving
Begin anew, start breathing and thinking
for me. By the way thanks for retrieving
Your personal belongings from the flat.

People, you know friends and family
asked how I was, did I need anything?
I was stunned at their curiosity and
kindness, but, told them no.

Well, if you hear from him let us know,
if you want a chat we're here to listen
Oprah says break ups are like bereavements
No need to be brave for us honey.

They leave after getting their gossip
believing I was being stoic, grieving on the inside.
I wasn't, quite the opposite in fact
I felt liberated, unchained, free to be me.

That's what I did you see, became me
I had difficulty heaving your corpse into the garden
but those gym sessions you insisted I take paid off
As did the self defence class, one strike and down you went.

BTW Thanx for the txts, they is well good as alibis.

The sun is shining

I am shying away

I hate the sun

It's not fun

Just a reminder

That winter's on its way

I hate the excitement summer brings

It's the tumult before winter

The forced happiness, the pretend gaiety

Summer is not your friend, it's a sticking plaster

For the pain that is the rain of Autumn

Then the cold and snow of Winter

Before spring tries to step in with a zing

To remind us that the false friend summer is on its way.....Again.

You lay by me on the cold shale,
I hear your breath soft and deep
I know that you are not asleep
anymore than I am.
We came here for the peace
We came here for the obscurity
We came here for you to lie me down in a lay-by
For you to lie and watch me die.

I consider perfection a collection,
a collection of never to bees
buzzing over ridges, known as
wrinkles.
Singletons looking for systems in
order to find
the right one
Not the right now
Millions of kisses going amiss
Reclusive, exclusive people
unobtrusive civilians, waiting for
the impulse to collect and recollect,
the calluses of love.

It started with a glance.
An innocuous chanced glance.
Fate is a cruel mistress,
I was just the mistress.
I'm not proud of the fact.
I don't take pride in being your "bit on the side"
Part of me died when you told me you were married.
But, I couldn't stop being with you, that is,
until the glance.

Ever had the feeling that someone is watching you?
Well, I did, and I looked up.
There she was.
The wife.
I felt the colour drain from the room.
I wanted to run, but Karma had plans.
How alike we were, hair, build, our humour
the only difference were our eyes.
Mine, blue, hers brown.

That's how it happened.
A chance glance at a coffee shop.
We chatted, it would seem we both knew of each other.
I didn't know of the pregnancy.
You should have told me.
But then you knew I'd leave.
Mistress to a married man I can live with.
Mistress to a family man? No.
Even a mistress has some standards.

Over coffee and cake we conspired to rid ourselves of you.
The cake was the key.
And they do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.
Anti-freeze or Ethylene Glycol poisoning was chosen.
Embittering agent was nullified by the sweet frosting.
Our combined bitterness made fantastic cakes.
Acute kidney failure in 72 hrs, and, well you were told to stop drinking.
The only questions I really wanted to ask you were,
Do you remember who served you?

Were her eyes brown or blue.