Birthday Blues


I wonder if she allowed herself to think,
Of the balloons doused in pink,
Of the presents and gifts,
For the the occasions missed.

I let my mind wander,
Just a little longer,
To the idea and dream,
That love is what she means.

My first birth without her,
I hear the song she would mumur.
The ‘happy birthday’ filled with regret.
The fear that I never once met.

I miss her today.
On my birthday.
My mother is absent.
With her my family went.

I wonder if she thought of her first,
I could think of nothing worse.
Than for her to have so willingly forgotten,
The daughter who missed her rotten.

Autumn wishes


It’s here. It has arrived. October blew in from the sea filled with warmth, spice and earthly tones of a palette that only October holds. The trees begin to shed their leaves, the wind turns to a crisp, the earth becomes saturated with warm rain that descends from the sky and washes away the years stresses. Conkers land with a soft thud and a small crack as the mellowed, soft tarnished ball of Autumn shows it best side. It waits patiently for a small child to come along and take the conker from its green bed and place it in a bag, only to be taken home and put on the kitchen table for all to see. Meanwhile the young but older generations prepare themselves for Halloween and an excitement that fills the air is fresh and full of mischief. Whilst this goes on, middle aged men and women gaze out of their house windows and think back to a time when they were full of mischief and life. Now they sit and watch another year go by and their love for Autumn is shadowed by their worries of clothing,food and bills. Beyond them are the elderly. The people that love life the most. Aged couples hold onto each other in local parks and, though little words are exchanged, agree that this year has been a lovely one. They ponder over their family’s plans for the celebrations whilst they reminisce about their last Autumn and the one before that and they cherish each one as they did their first.

Whilst this hum of Autumn is in the air, I can only feel as though we are part of something. A something that so enjoys fires, conkers and hot chocolate. A something that in the build up to the end of yet another year, finds itself taking a step back to admire the orange leaves and falling conkers. We take a step back to admire the warm rain and the sharp winds, we laugh when the wind blows and our clothes playfully threaten to leave.

Autumn is a time of warmth, happiness and reflection and I beg you to not let this years blessing slip by without a shadow of laughter or joy. I beg you to remember last year and the beginning of this year, I ask you to think of the things that sweeten and spice the air.  Take a moment to walk through the park and smile to yourself. Forget the bills and think of a time when you never had to pay.
I urge you, adolescents, to make this Halloween so reckless and laughable that you will wonder how to beat this Halloween with the next years. I urge you all to live your life in the warming moment of Autumn, which is here for a while to keep you, just until you are ready for winter.

I urge you. To make so many melting memories that when you are the old couple holding hands on the park bench, you too will sit in silence, together remembering your Autumn memories. Because I will. And maybe one day our paths will cross and I shall see you, holding onto your love, reminiscing about our lives, lived in synch, and ending staggered.

The waves


Sometimes you don’t know how to move on. Sometimes you would give anything to be back with that person. Even if its just to have them shouting at you.

My councillor told me that the one thing that screams aloud from ms is that I want my mum back. That I do love her with all my heart and that we have both been going through a really tough time and pushed each other away. When really all we need is each other. If we got on we would make an awesome team. And that we both love each other. Although it may be hard to believe. She said we are so similar that we clash.

So many feeling came up today. Sometimes I just don’t even know where to begin. Other times I just shut everything off and get on with it.
I feel numb as well. Like I can’t feel anything. I am just watching. Watching my life disintegrate.
I feel so confused and conflicted. As though I am being pulled in all directions yet I can’t move. Stale mate.
I have no idea what my next move is. Can’t someone just tell me? It would be easier to do what someone else tells me to do rather than make my own choice and watch it tear my family apart. I don’t think I can handle any more things going wrong.
I know I have come this far, but the past 6 months haven’t been me. They have been my shell. Inside its like a tornado and tsunami along with an erupting volcano and drought. My emotions drown me to the point where I can’t breathe. Each breath is a struggle. Each word is strangled in my throat whilst my head aches with the pain of my decisions and mistakes and words that cut so deep they can’t heal. It just exhausts me. I feel so tired and dead. Like I should just let the waves take me because I can’t hold on anymore. I can’t stop the tears or the hurt. I can’t stifle the sobs and cries. I can’t keep propping myself up in the shadow of who I used to be. Now my legs give way, the flood gates open and I am falling into a forbidden abyss of pain and hurt and denial. All I ever wanted but never thought to have. Everything I felt but never allowed myself to feel. Everything I wanted to say and everything I thought. I am now confronted with it all and I can no longer keep it inside. Now it’s surfacing and overflowing and rather than fight it like I have for so long, I am now going to let it take me. I have no other choice. I have no hope left. I have no strength left. I have nothing. And now its time to let the waves take me. They can take me away from the storm and to a quiet oasis. They can heal me. They can.

Confusion Calling.


Eventually we found our common ground. Our no mans land that was always present. She asked about Grandma, calling her a wackadoodle. I heard the smile in her voice and I couldn’t  but help smile back.  Suddenly I was transported back to being on the bed with her, laughing and joking. Feeling as though we agreed on something. Seeing her face light up, with a sadistic joy that made my heart reach out to her.

I knew that now we weren’t shouting at one another I should lay out a safe guard. Whether it would work was soon to be found out.
” yes well, we can’t keep being like this. I don’t know what you want me to say when I see you.”
” you just can’t face us because you feel guilty-”
” well from now on, should we happen to see each other, or I pick up the phone we have to be civil.”
The words were suspended in the air causing a static. I had told her what to do and I could see her face. I knew that look. The look of how dare you. I waited.
She hadn’t flipped out. She wasn’t angry. I could tell that she was taken aback by my maturity that I never really showed before.
“The reason I have not called you or just shown up is because any move I make has to be measured and judged. Anything I do effects everyone. Not just me and I have to take that into account. I am aware it effects Logan and Ethan especially.” My words clung to the phone line, there was an authority and maturity that surprised me. I didn’t know I had it in me. I knew she was mulling over her response so she wouldn’t appear unfair or childish. 
Inevitably we reached a natural end to the rollercoaster of the conversation. The awkward good byes over and the phone down it suddenly hit me what had happened. We had argued,laughed and talked. But this time, our footing was closer to equal than it had ever been. It was surreal. I no longer saw her as my mother even though that thought never left me, she was an adult to me. A human. Someone who made mistakes and was just as lost and scared as I was. She didn’t want to lose her children, her entire existence. I heard her words in my head again.
“I made this choice. I wanted to be an at home mum.” I couldn’t help but think that by leaving her, as her eldest. It must have left her with not only a sense of confusion  but the feeling as though she had failed her only task. Her dream.
Now we were at a stand off and didn’t known the next move, but I knew I would be the one to make it.



Its like looking back into the unknown abyss.

What I miss
What I wish.
I never knew where i stood
Other than on the rope that tied the wood.
I know it was hard for you.
But now he flew.

Save me not from the future.
Not from the absence of tutor.

But from the past of lost hope.
Lost hope and tightening rope.

I gave myself a telling to.
I put myself on the line for you.
And how do you repay me?
Not with the chance, love or promise.
But with grief, hate and wish.

So this is the last time i do it,
The last piece now won’t fit.

You’ve had your chance,
Now I shall dance.



The nerves inside of me knew. They understood, maybe not fully but they knew of a feeling I had yet to discover.
I never realised how calming and influential he was until it came to watching the Sunday afternoons float by. The first time we met, there was an awkwardness in the air that choked the words in his curved mouth. But after only an hour or so we became warmly comfortable with each other. I felt the inches between us hiding. Soon his strong arms were holding me and his breath was mixed with mine. I could feel his hunger and want and it only amplified my own.  We left with few kisses and the feeling of his arms around me never left.
It wasn’t until the second day, the second Sunday that I realised how badly I depended upon his touch. As soon as I saw him, my nerve endings it ignited and the butterflies were let loose. A smile so large over took any worries of the week and I instantly felt care free and content. More hours passed and this time the inches were no where to be seen. Time with him seems like an illusion. We are aware of it, aware that it is around us, but it doesn’t touch us. When we are together the rest of the time ridden world is at bay.
On this particular Sunday we let our instincts play us.
His arms were no longer around me from comfort or protection but from want. My hands found the toned flesh underneath his shirt and his breath found my neck. The feeling of his stubble against my skin and the rumble of his deep echoing voice set me alight in ways I had never knew existed. In that moment all I wanted was him. Him. No amount of raw flesh or igniting touches could fulfill my hunger. I felt him shake with want and it only made me want him more. We sat, my legs around him, his breath on my neck and hands on his back. We sat and discovered each other. We found our weak spots, our guilty pleasures and the areas no one had before thought to go. To sweeten the passion the smell of his skin filled my head and cushioned me from reality. His voice was no longer choked and his throat gave away how much he wanted me. Our bodies responded to one another, and it no longer felt like we were in control.
And now? Now I use the memory of his arms and the knowledge of his body to bring a smile to my face and to carry me through until I can once again claim his body and want as my own.