I write to you here in hope
with a right dose of sadness and a bigger one of gratitude
no trepidation to be seen.
You have walked miles round this town
many more, much further than any convention held you to go
I could see doubts swimming multifaceted
behind those glittering eyes
and I understood, I understand
I respect the respect you gave
and I hope that respect came across (I cherish it)
as you gazed at the heavens
this palindrome night
thoughts light-years away.
There comes a time in every evening
when you’re with a beautiful lady
who has piqued your interest
(and you hope you’ve piqued hers):
Either you go one step forward or two steps back;
the dreaded “you’re a nice guy”
and the dreadful “but”
Or the sweet tender kiss
and wide-smiled “I’d love to”
Two worlds precariously close
during times in the evening.
I’ll keep writing till my pens run out
till the napkins in the café are all written upon
till my quill runs dry
till the octopi flee
until all ink has been spilled:
all the ink I’ve got and then a little bit more.
The fountain of emotion slows
now a torrent, not a hurricane.
It’s shouldering expectation
burdened by absent hope.
It too, thought,
from a pale mucky marsh
it’d become resplendent—
jets of love and care
shooting off towards the stars
blowing the Trevi out of the water.
Alas, mucky marsh it remains
gloopy staleness dripping
obscured by the past
clouded by the future.
Yet a glimmer of hope remains:
a single water-lily
among the soggy weeds.
The lukewarm water
rubbed into my cheeks
time and time again
rushes away
washes away your smile
washes away your smell
bleaches your memory
as it tumbles away
into the drain.
There’s a felling I’ve been born with
winning the lottery as an only child
my stomach, an empty bottomless pit
a long, infinite cardboard tube
I’m endlessly falling down
that’s a feeling that’s with me
trying to claw its way out
like a flying moth, towards a light
but this light keeps drifting further away
and I’m this moth, stuck
in a world in which I don’t deserve to belong.
The stars are out for you
your eyes shine brighter
Your golden locks shimmer
in the late winter breeze.
But I sense you distant,
behind that smile—
brumous thoughts hidden
clouding that smile.
I came here wanting nothing
but I came out wanting more
my heart yearns for loving
but it can yearn for you no more.
Tonight, you were close
so close to touch—
and to touch back,
you hesitated.
Your perfume lingers
your smile coldens
what was once technicolour
is now truly grey.
But, I gave you respect
and you gave yours
even though we can’t be happy
thoughts out of reach
like children in a museum.
No, I never loved you
but I imagined I did
I imagined what it would be like
to be together
by the fireplace
reading books
I imagined what it would be like to
caress your cheeks
and caress your insides
But alas—imagine caressing no more
not even a tender kiss
Hope is lost—if it ever were there before.
Here we are
You and me
Tiptoeing through this world
Tiptoeing through this conversation
Tiptoeing through this relationship
Tiptoeing through life;
We mustn’t disturb
don’t ruffle feathers
shift no fallen leaves.
Why, oh why
do we act so
why can’t we just
stand in a puddle
and accept it?
Just you and me
enjoying the water
seeping through our shoes
savouring our squelching socks
This is why, oh why
I have come with you.