Cusp of Autumn


Another month goes by. The seasons change.The days begin and end. Yet my love for you never leaves me and the pain you caused me never subsides. I wonder if, maybe you have a moment of weakness as I do, and that maybe a part of you just wants to forget and wipe the slate clean. To let the autumn rain wash away all our mistakes and let our hateful words die with the leaves. But then I remember, even if you do have this moment, even if you do think about the past or how things could have been, then I remember that actually there is no amount of love and repair that your moment of weakness can hold to fix the place we are in at the moment. Even if you do think about me, you still make the choice on every autumnal morning to leave us in this place of hatred and longing. This place of the unknown and unsaid. You still leave me here, and that was always my biggest fear. That you would lose me and never come after me. After all, sometimes we have to runaway just to see who will come after us and save us and show us how much we really mean to them.

Only you never came after me. You let me go, and I, in my moment of stupidity and curiosity let myself go too far. Now you will never come to save me and I will never return. We will forever be walking our lives alone. For all we ever wanted was for the other to show us love. And that my dear, is my greatest regret


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.

The girl in the white dress


The girl in the white dress,
Stares at me, my body long and burnt,
Her eyes follow not where I go, not where I press, but where I have been in sorrow.

The girl in the white dress,
She reaches gracefully, arms outstretched, fingers pointed, legs poised. The wind is made of her soft caress.
All I long is to be like her, a gazelle, wild and at rest.

The girl in the white dress, takes my frozen palm, her eyes fixated on my dark skin,
Her pale pure outline fades,
She’ll not let it win.

The girl in the white dress,
The gazelle, the lady, the saviour,
She stares at me now, eye to eye, breast to breast,
My dark burnt skin begins to crumble, and my legs begin to waver.

The girl in the white dress,
To me is a fantasy,
Feathers in her hair and love in her stare,
I long for her to help me, to steal me, to fix me,
As I fall, she stays, my skin fades and the wind sways.

The girl in the white dress,
She stares at me now, a smile on her porcelain face and my heart in her hands, the girl in the white dress, she’s saved me now, with her only caress.



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.

Fools Facade


I couldn’t fathom the idea that they wouldn’t believe me. It never even crossed my mind, that they should think I made it up. But its true, unfortunately it wasnt the first nor last time it would happen. Even S said so herself “you deal with it well for a situation that is claimed to be as bad as it is” but S believed me. Only because she’d been at my house. She had seen it for herself.
But the idea that K and B didn’t believe me, it angered and frustrated me but also it made me sad. Sad to think that people I claimed to be my friends didn’t actually believe what I told them about my life. S’s relay of their words repeated in my head “The thing about her is, its hard to believe what she says. You’ve only known her a short while, but we think she makes it up sometimes”.  The thing that is most frustrating, is that I have given them no reason not to believe me when I tell them about my life and the past year. Its all been hard enough, and I now had to convince them?  And it wasn’t as if  their lives were so good and problem free as both of them (as most people) have been through difficult times, what was it about mine that made it unbelievable? The fact I was kicked out? The fact I hadn’t seen my family in nearly a year? The verbal and physical abuse? Or was it just because as S had said? That I put on a front that fools them into thinking I’m fine. That’s all I can assume.
This is why I don’t talk about my past five years. Because not only can no one help, and the majority of it is over, but because no one is caring enough to believe that I have experienced what I say I have. Everyone is happy accepting my facade so long as they don’t have to deal with any of the real stuff. And that hurts, but its why I pretend everything is okay. I guess I had gotten so used to living like this that I forgot it’s abnormal to most. And its only reassured me that pretending its okay is the only way to deal with it.



Your T-shirt hugs me the same way you used to,

Tight and warm but loose in all the right places,

My tears of my mistake have stained the print,

Just like my mistake stained our future.

I’m sorry.

I never meant to hurt you,

And for this I will always be sorry,

You did nothing but make me happy,

But I threw it away.

The happiness, the picture.

The idea and the hope.

And I’m sorry.

Auto Pilot


It can be hard to know how a day will plan out. But sometimes your instinct tells you that the day ahead will be one to test you. To make you doubt yourself. To highlight all of the problems you hid away. Yesterday was one of those days. I had the surreal experience of bumping into my father. The father I haven’t spoken to in 11 months. The man whose daughter disappointed so deeply he had nothing to say to her when he happened to see her.

It was surreal, for so long I had hidden any feelings and all at once I was confronted with them.

I saw him immediately as I turned the corner. My stomach dropped as I am sure my mouth did. I felt nauseous and lost. My gut instinct was to run to him and wrap my hands around his large stomach and squeeze him with all I had left. I wanted him to know how much I loved and missed him.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

Instead I stared and in doing so, I caught his eye. The bleak half smiles exchanged were so contrasted to the full blown happy smiles we used to exchange. After that I stared at the floor and prayed that Grandma wouldn’t see him. Seconds later I heard her call him, I turned away in disbelief. Shaking and nauseous I tried to hold back tears. My sound was blocked out. I felt as though I was submersed in water.  Grandma’s voice called me from a distance and asked to me to say hello to my father. I turned to him. We stared at each other. His eyes said all I needed to know. Neither of us said anything. I raised my hand as a greeting. Then my self-control no longer kept my tears at bay. Whilst my Grandma continued her idle and desperate talk I shook as hot tears cascaded down my pale face. I paced up and down trying not to vomit as I debated on whether or not to walk away but I couldn’t think straight. So I just stood for a few more seconds until I could take it no more and my weak legs carried me away.  No less than twenty seconds later I was sobbing and my Grandma was behind me with her arm on my shoulder. I pushed her off wiped my tears of betrayal and walked to the car.

In the car I just stared. Oblivious if the cruel world that surrounded me. I held in my emotions until I passed the threshold of my door and closed it behind me. Then at last I sobbed and silently wailed until I could no longer stand or breathe. I lay and composed myself.

I showered quietly. Not thinking. Not crying. Just following my auto pilot’s orders



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.

A feeling


If love,
Is a feeling,
Then what is an emotion?

I think not!

There is no emotion,
Or feeling,
For to me,
Love is a trick!

Played by the mind,
To fool the heart,
Into believing ,
That love is a feeling.