Do you prefer silence?

You must think of me sometimes. I can not believe that I have been erased, wiped clean along with the pain and memories. There must be song fragments that still hold me in their sweet chords, lyrics that take you back to when we were one. Or do you you turn off the radio, preferring silence to those feelings that whirl and whip like wind spun waves.

The Years That Have Passed

You came again into my dreams and you leaned in close and whispered "I love you" into my ear. Bending your gentle head you listened as I cupped my hand around my mouth and repeated back to you those same three words. Then a moment of consciousness invaded that sleep filled realm and all at once I was stung with guilt, as I remembered my waking life and all of the years that had passed since I was yours and those words still belonged to you.

Sky Watching

She stands with her head tilted back and her eyes full of wonder. Watching as a swirl of jackdaws whirl up into the empty sky. The breeze lifts her hair and places it back down again, gentle on her shoulders. "It looks like someone has shaken a brush and splattered the heavens with drops of black ink" he says. "I think that maybe they are trying to write poetry up there " says she.

The Need for Fresh Air

Sometimes you need to throw open the windows so that the cool breeze can rush in and clear out the stagnant air. Doors will need to be wedged open too, so that they don't bang and clatter shut as the wind whips through the old house. It is important that the air must circulate. And as the dusts rises and forgotten things are blown this way and that, don't try to regain order. The time for that is when the dust has settled and both your house and lungs are full of tomorrows breath.

Ecdysis

I stepped out of the me that had gone and there I was, bare naked and shining. You watched me with your ocean eyes as I shed my skin, sloughing off the past. You walked my boundaries and lit fires around me in the dark, dark nights to keep me safe, then we both waited. And we sang soft songs until the salt water bought the new skin I still wear. It was borne aloft on the undulating black waves, heralded by the gulls cry and the foaming surf. It was new then and radiant, the creases and the scuffs were not manifest. But they were lying in wait, as they always are.

Escaping The Darkness

There was ice on the ground and she clung to his arm as she slipped and slid on the shiny glass underfoot. They were escaping the darkness. Too wired to sleep. It was 3am and they were walking in the park under the liquid yellow streetlights, under the treetops filled with roosting birds, and they were laughing, uproariously, hysterically, and the only world that existed was their own.

Another Step

She knew times when everything seemed black, when hope had been lost and there appeared to be no more steps on the path. She couldn't see that behind it all life was shining, and that all those who had already stopped walking were screaming to her to 'hang on' - because, out of pain, beauty could grow, roses springing from manure. He told her that saying goodbye would just leave a hole so huge that only darkness could fill it, and that, even the tiniest glimmer of goodness contained seeds that must be watered and nourished. He begged her to grow roses, thorns and all. She listened and she understood.

Guitar Man

He reached for his guitar and it become a part of him, moulded to his shape, an able extension of his large dexterous hands. He sank back into the cushions and began to strum. It was insistant and hypnotic like a heartbeat, and it soothed him. His eyes took on that familiar far away look, as the music wrapped around him and entered him through his pores. She watched, as the haunting melody became his breathing, and she felt it pick him up and transport him to somewhere that she had never been.

Breaking Eggs

It was a long time ago, the wild days, hedonism and music outside of time and space. Internal cosmonauts setting sail for the far inner reaches propelled by hallucinogens and prayer. Sacred smoke a daily sacrement shared by two, to give them eyes to see what others didn't. Cocooned inside the egg of their own making, a rare reality. But even the toughest shells begin to crack when the life inside has filled up all of the available room. Growth needs space. So in the spirit of evolurion she walked away, leaving him standing there alone amongst the shards of shattered shell. And life as it always does, moved on...

Mercury Vapor

She danced her way around the questions, her clean hands took no blame. The effortless zing of her ready smile disarmed all but the most cynical. Childlike simplicity grew her wings and she used them well to escape the humdrum and fly high above the every day. Despite all the cluttered corners her windows sparkled and let in the light. It fed his fascination with this woman who felt like mercury cupped in the palm of his hand.

The Right Note

She picked up the bells one by one and bought each up to her ear and rang it just once. He watched the intense concentration on her face as she tilted her head and listened carefully until the sound from each ring had totally disappeared. When she picked up the tiny brass bell he saw the smile appear as soon as she rang out its pure clear note, it seemed to cut through the atmosphere in the dimpsy room and hung like tiny jewels sparkling in the air. He could sense her pleasure and felt a warm wave of love spread up from his stomach, he loved to see her happy. That's the one! she squealed, and took off up the stairs, bell in hand.

Perpetual

She dreams he is there and he is beautiful, a butterfly preserved, still twenty seven, still her love. Captured like a repeating video run, frozen in one moment, denying them the natural process of decay. Existing, intact and timeless inside that night world. A perpetual memory drenched in feeling so that every time she wakes she feels the wrench as she has to leave him all over again...

Only a Dream

Sleep was a distant land she travelled without recollection of the dreams she knew lived there. But today, today was different. They were in a car that was about to crash and in the final few moments she saw him reach out his arm to shield her. She turned her head gripping the seatbelt waiting for impact. It never came. She opened the door and stepped out into a dark building and looked at the crumpled car and knew they had survived. A shaft of light poured in through the boarded windows. She awoke with her heart racing. . .

Once

Once, long ago when they were lost in that magical space that exists between two enmeshed souls, he had looked in through her eyes until he found her heart. He asked her to promise that if ever she were no longer his that she would go far far away, so he never had to see her again.
She did as he asked and now years later they still carry each others memory like ghosts.

Night Vision

Sun bleached curtains pulled tightly shut against the ominous ink black sky. The night buzzed with unspoken words, her thoughts flickered and twinkled like stars. She lay still and quiet listening to his breathing, her pale hand rested on his warm chest. Comforted by the tribal beat of his heart, she was lulled by the rhythmic rocking of his breath. Curled up and comfortable in the boat he provided, safely anchored on top of the endless ocean of sleep.

Disappearing Act

She had been running away for so long that she had almost forgotten why. Wrapping her billowing black cloak of anonymity around her she covered her face so tightly that she could barely breathe. The need to hide herself surfaced from within her like a sneeze. She skirted around the edges, existing in the shadows, a bystander watching life taking place. She had disappeared so many times now, that she had become amorphous, a kaleidoscope of changing forms, each reflecting a feeling, a fleeting nuance. And now when she looked for herself in the mirror, she discovered she was no longer there.

Body Talk

She knew that the body held on to things, remembered things. She sensed that hidden there in its dark recesses, tied into its muscles, buried in its bones were all the things she had forgotten. Sometimes in her silence she heard it speak softly, in gentle whispers, as it tried to tell her of its memories, its stored secrets. Then there were the other times where she felt its pain / her pain come rushing to the surface without warning, hurtling through her like an express train and splitting her calm demeanour like a scream.

He Would Never Know. . .

She had faced death a thousand times, stared it straight in the eyes, terror and adrenaline her only companions as she clung to the thin strand of light that connected her to this earthly realm. That tiny bright thread that shone through even her darkest night, it had became her anchor, so fragile that at times she was sure it would break. He would never know, as he lay sleeping beside her, the surge of relief she felt every time she realised that she had made it through another night.

On Being Empathic

She cried, sobbing hot tears streaming in rivers down her sad face, she cried so he didn't have to. So he didn't have to carry that heavy sharp stone of hurt, so that he could externalise the pain and sorrow that he could never express. So that he could cradle her and rock her gently as he felt the anguish and healed and soothed them both in his big strong arms.

Her Back Against The Wall

She swung open the heavy glass door of her basement flat, releasing the soaring guitar sounds out of that shady indoor cave. Artfully bent notes joined with the birdsong, a symphony drifting up into the endless cobalt blue of the sky, spiralling up into the sunshine. The concrete steps that led up to that world of light, were littered with fallen seeds, hopes dashed on this sparkling ascent. She climbed slowly, counting the steps as she always did. Setting herself down on the hard ground, she felt her back against the wall. Lost in reverie, the sun on her upturned face, she breathes deeply as she watches the surreal kinetic sculptures of her white sheets drying in the wind.