Colours (Version)

Red, white, blue.
Me, you.
Star-spangled,
entangled
as colours fly
and colours die.
And if I could stay,
I would.

Chestnuts

The night is rank with thickened smoke
and the stench of chestnuts burning.
Their stink clings lankly in my throat, choking me, 
gurgling and bubbling back up to the surface.
They are swollen and bloated 
like hundreds of pregnant bellies
with reddish-brown skins all fit to burst 
at any moment.
Then suddenly! 
Their once impassable skins will  shatter and splinter, 
showing soft white flesh glinting proudly
like so many stars.

He captures the night

He flies with me through endless nights
where daylight seems impossible,
and all I know is the rush of his hands
and the curving swoop of his smile makes
twinkling stars swoon and droop.
He lies with me 
and stormy weather becomes calm again.
Then those hands, those fingers  guide me                                                 as, like candles, we flicker in the dark.
As the shadows dance all around us
like little nymphs,
he captures the night and I, 
I tumble further and further.

Snowflakes

Gently, gently,
softly, softly,
oh so lightly,
they flutter like little kisses
and waltz gaily through the air in dainty swirls 
like charms and graces.
I catch them quickly
on the tip
of my tongue
but they melt away before I can taste them.

The importance of good breeding

You hold your knife and fork like this,
working from the outside in,
naturally.
You sit like this, 
legs neatly crossed
and you speak about appropriate things
like the theatre 
or your favourite rioja.
You definitely don't talk about sex
or money 
and heaven forbid you should say "fuck".
You articulate conversation,
making sure not to offend 
and everything appears charming.
Oh yes, 
you fulfill all 
the little requirements
and perform superbly.
But behind closed doors 
when night comes 
and the sky is still,
I'll smile at you with  painted parted lips 
and you'll go all the way down.

On stars and insomnia

They creep across the sky,
prising at
 the cracks in my curtains,
O that they would steal me away.
and I could feel myself fade!
Instead they mock me in my sleepless state,
screaming at me and burning
white-hot
so that,
even when I bury myself
deep under my covers
and try to succumb to some sort of slumber,
I know that they are still there.
They seem invincible,
those spheres so swollen with
the promise of eternal night.
And yet, 
I know that when morning comes with tender tones,
it will bring with it some reprise
and I will start to reappear.

Secrets

He spilled his secrets
in the waning hours
as  friends sat down the hall 
in the living room,
drinking cheap wine 
and making even cheaper conversation.
He shared his heartache 
and laid his soul out before me
like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle,
jagged and disjointed.
He told me about his drinking 
and the smooth white pills
which should have taken the pain away.
All of his scars and fears gripped at my chest
and made it impossible to breathe. Or think.
So I didn't,
and I let him make love to me again.

Bitches

They shove and jostle to preen and fuss over
supremely plucked brows and lips thick
and gloopy with sticky pink gloss.
Squeals and shrieks and smiles
laden with venom as they run pointed tongues over
teeth sharp as knives,
feeding each other
compliments  in various falsettos.
Slinking off like lynxes,
they tear apart the carcasses of the ones
still huddled like gazelles around the mirrors.
It's always the same.
..............
Bitches.

Haven

An eastern glow throbs up and down
the four walls of this little haven.
Two empty bottles hold candles in place,
lending tender light across the rug,
the cushions, the desk,
your bed.
Our clothes lie spilled across the room
in haphazard puddles leading to us,
tangled up in each other,
while the scent of hot cinnamon writhes in the air,
melting into our skin and mingling with
our sweet sweat.
With hands and lips trembling
we trace outlines tentatively, brushing skin
and shivering with delight.
Being with you on these balmy nights
feels like we were never apart.
I've come home to us.

Autumn

We all gather round you,

precious egg.

Cocooning you in blankets,

concealing untold pain and suffering.

You are fragile and beautiful

like an old-time song half-heard through a closed door,

or the final petal to fall from a rose.

You lie there, so small and so still,

with veins that rise up in rivers of silver,

trickling through tissue-paper skin.

Oblivious to the passing of time and the change of season,

each passing hour brings you closer to the end of another day.                   And then night is here again,

finally releasing you to that calmness which comes

just after the moon casts its ashen light 

and before those hours 

when the sky is a drowsy, dusky pink.

I saw the leaves change colours today.

I suppose that autumn is here.

The storm

Crashing, tearing, thumping.
Pulling down and down.
The sea; black and growling like a terrible beast
rolled hellish wave after wave
for what seemed like forever.
Electric blue jolted and shuddered for miles,
searing hot and stinging,
like so much sorrow.
Raging foam slapped and punched out in ugly tirades until suddenly,
as unexpectedly as it had begun,
the storm was over.
And the sea was still again.

3am thoughts

Sometimes my 3am thoughts track me down, chasing me
endlessly, relentlessly and as recklessly as
the way my heart behaved when you said
'hello'.


Sometimes my bones are filled with lead,
each bending and breaking, begging
to feel your warmth beside me, to
have you like before.


So often I yield to
eventual acceptance that you and I are exactly
that. You. I. Separate people with
hearts that, for a moment in time, shared a beat.

The finishline

I always see the end
before I see the start.
Don't give yourself too easily,
I'll only use your heart.
If you give your body,
you'll push us far apart
because my mind is at the end
but you're still at the start.

Pause for reflection

I like this place
even though the sky is perpetually grey
and nothing really happens.
The way time passes slowly
lets me mull my thoughts around. 
I splash my feet in the cool, dull water
and let these thoughts 
wash back and forth 
as freely as the gulls which drift carelessly 
through the cloudy sky.
I contemplate all manner of things
as I skim smooth pebbles and create little ripples,
which I count.
I forge many footsteps
across the soft stretch of sand
and when I look back, I imagine
there are two sets of footprints
and make believe that you are walking with me.

The place where you are

In the close lull of yesterday afternoon
I lay languishing in luxurious indulgence,
and, with lazily closed eyes, I heard two conversations.
At separate times both briefly touched
upon the place where you are
and, letting myself linger 
a little longer than I should,
I smiled and wondered
if you were feeling the same
hot sun on your body.

Trains

I remember the summer we rode on trains.
You took my hand and you pulled me with you
across countries and continents and earth,
carrying me with you this way and that.


You took my eyes and showed me everything.
You promised me the sun and the stars and
I remember that night in Venice
when you kissed me under the heart-shaped moon.


You took my lips and rushed them to virgin heights.
Sometimes I thought I'd never come back down
but you had me and you never let me fall.

I remember the summer we rode on trains.

Colours

Great explosions burst and travelled 
across the sky above us
in a dazzling display
of red and white and blue.
They burned brightly, just for a few seconds,
then slowly faded into each other,
melting together 
until they were little more than smoke.
I tried to trace them with the tips of my fingers,
I wanted to catch the colours in my hands
but you cupped my mouth 
 and kissed me ardently
as the warm water embraced us
and the colours cascaded down.

Lover

I am not who you think I am.

I am not your lover.

I am not your friend.

I move over

you in the darkness

and  heat of the starless

twilight hours.

I strip you over and over,

and exposed you to how entirely 
I consume you as I draw you in,

gorging eagerly on your gratification

with my body of lies and unholy insatiability.

Praise me, crave me, try to sanctify me

and make me pure again.

I am dream-like; disappearing beyond your waking moments where

I am not your lover.

I am not your friend.

I move over you, with you, and then over.