Sanity’s absence


I miss you baby,
I miss your smile,
I miss the way you’d lay with me,
And how we’d kiss every once in a while.

I miss you darling,
I miss your warm aroma,
I miss how your words were charming,
And how we’d slumber on the sofa.

I miss you handsome,
I miss your hands around my waist
I miss how the world seemed phantom,
And how we’d talk of dreams to chase.

I miss you man,
I miss you’re silly jokes,
I miss how you do the things only you can,
And how we’d leave the place in smokes.

I miss you mate,
I miss your voice,
I miss how we’d dance till late,
And how (haha) we’d always make the ‘wrong’ choice.

I miss you hun,
I miss your touch,
I also miss your fine ass bum,
And how I could sooth your worry with my own touch.

I miss you honey,
I miss hearing all the little details,
I miss how you’d find my stupidity funny,
And how you’d show me scars from your all tales.

I miss you b,
I miss looking at the stars,
I miss how you were there for me,
And how we engraved our own scars.

I miss you-
I miss you a lot,
All I do now is reminisce,
And revel in the taste this powders got.

I miss you.
I do. I hope you miss me too,
I suppose I need my friend back,
My sanity is beginning to slack.

momentary euphoria


I can’t even begin to explain the way your tobacco breath excites my cells,
Its like they know that with each toxic breath you inhale, you get one step closer to your greatest fear, yet at the same time , the momentary head rush of toxins and pleasure is enough for you to take that risk.
And that’s what loving you feels like. Each time I spend another tender, innocent moment with you, my heart flutters and my stomach dances. I’ve never felt so alive as to when your eyes are delving into mine and your promises engrave themselves in my mind. I’ve never felt so mortal as to when your touch sears into my skin and the taste of your blood drives my want and passion.
Each time you take a pull, each time I hear your voice. We both take the risk of dying, of losing it all, just for that moment of euphoria and each time I hope the risk is worth it.

Sweet Denial


As the words tumbled from your mouth, a laugh stumbled from mine. Don’t mistake me, I’m not mocking, only denying. Denying the idea that somone like you could fathom the idea, the notion and myth that you could possibly fall for me. Ha.

That’s where you fall down, where your weakness is. Yes you may have more knowledge of things I’m only just discovering, but I have more knowledge of myself. Something you’ve only just found. I see in your eyes that you truly belive you could love me, more than you already do. In a way neither of us planned to use.

You see the thing is, it’s not me, it is you. It is the way you love, it is the way you want to love and it is the only way you know how to. But I can’t be loved like that. I never have and never will. I’m not a dainty and elegant thing that can be loved by all and respond in the way they need. I’m not a rougue and wild woman whose lover loves her from a distance and that is enough for the both of them. I’m not the young sweet love which will last forever as long as you are happy. I’m not the tender caring love or the passionate and wild. I’m not the doomed or forbidden or the destined and desired. I’m none of the things that you understand about love. I’m all of the things you don’t.

I am person who cannot accept love, of any type, in any form, within any life time.  I blossom in the idea that I could receive your love the way you desired. But I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to take a man such as yourself, and turn him into a boy. I wouldn’t know how to love you so that you became the best of us. I don’t understand how to make you feel the way you want me to feel. I would do your love no justice, and that is something at which you laugh.

A person such as yourself is a blessing. Although you’ve lived through moons and starts and seen the worst of this world and of others, you still have a glimmer of hope that love conquers all. Another stumble.

Love does not conquer all, my dear, love is just the bandaid, the plaster, the cotton wool to put on a wound. All it does is shelter and protect something vulnerable. Love does not heal the wounded nor does it save them. It merely provides a basis for the weak and broken to try and fix themselves.

Which is why I cannot accpet your love. Which is why I must tell you “no” when you offer to me your heart, I would do you no justice and despite my yearning to be loved by you, to wake up next to your lips and to dream in your arms. Despite my body craving every inch of yours and my mind wanting to intertwine itself with yours. Depite my wanting whats best for you and caring for you no matter what state we may be in.

I must deny myself your unconditional offer. I cannot allow myself to be loved by a man like you, because if I did it would only be a waste of something so rare and intimate. So human and naïve, so pure and homely.

I must deny your love, my love, I have to. Im not ready to try and fix the wounds of years before. My wounds have become scars that run deeper than oceans on planets and abyss’s that duldge further than the boundaries of the earth. My scars can’t be fixed, soothed or remedied. I’m hopelessly broken but I’ve learned to live like this and this is how I shall continue to do so.

But I must thank you for giving my fractured ways a glimmer of warmth and hope, and maybe one day that will be enough to help my scars fade. And if they do, well, then maybe I would have learnt something new.



We’re standing in the rain,
Grass submersing our brains,
Waiting for the carriage,
Along to fucking marriage

Marriage to a life,
Of which I’m misfortunes wife,
And you’re the happy husband,
In miserable fucking England.

I hate your Scottish face,
You’re a bloody disgrace,
The way you handled me,
Was like our fucking child- our money.

I try to hold your hand,
Like we used to when we were whammed,
But the grass is in your clutch,
All you care for is the fucking promised land from the Dutch.

We’ll never be the same they say,
We’re heading our separate ways,
They’re right y’know?
I’d fucking leave you if you hadn’t of said ‘no’

So now I’m standing here,
With your breath in my ear,
The grass in our hearts
And our fucking dreams beginning to start.



In life we get second chances. I have had many, and I am not sure how much longer my ‘one last thing’ attitude will last me. I wasn’t expecting the text from him. But I got it. I didn’t know that he would come after me. The winks and cheeky comments were just banter to me! Now, I can see that he misread me. But there is a part of me that allowed him to misread me. A part of me that wanted him too. Now I have got what i want, but unlike with F.  I may not get away with this one. F. may have been my last chance, now I feel I am pushing fate. I know that if I’m caught with him , I will have to move out. And that is a risk I shouldn’t take. But I am. But I will.

Why? Because.

Because despite my head telling me to settle down and behave. To keep out of harms way. I always take the risk.

I believe the main reason I do this is to test not only the boundaries, but myself. I want to see what I can take. What I can, under a certain amount of pressure and with something to loose, how far I can go. What will stop me? What will be the one thing I don’t risk? As so far I risked everything and everyone. Never have i come across something or someone and thought to myself “should the time come, I will never risk you. You mean too much to me.”

I also take risks because they are what make me feel alive! They are what make the future unpredictable. We cannot predict the outcome of a risk, a chance, a whim. And that is why I love it. My entire life has been predictable. Not in the sense that life events happened as they should, but in the sense that, put in a situation I know what will be the outcome. Others are too easy to predict and if it’s not them, it’s me. I know what the majority of my boundaries are. But I want to make them fool proof. The reason being, should I meet my match I want to know my own weakness.

And it appears that L. is my most current risk.

And it was a risk worth taking.

Being with him was the most sensual and full of life thing I have experienced. He made me feel so feminine and worthy. I know that what happened between us was not love, but a mutual appreciation for one another strongly fuelled by lust, want and rebellion.



I crave his touch,
Though it doesn’t mean much,
I want to feel wanted,
To feel as though I am hunted.

I know this crave,
Originates from my neglected ways,
I know his touch and caress,
Are entirely emotionless.

Yet it still fills the void,
That I and others avoid,
That I for one moments kiss,
Truly believe is his.

Until the next competitor comes along,
And I feel that at last I belong,
Until my crave for want and love,
Chases and haunts me,
Until they gaze down on me from above.