I walk through a dream (or maybe they’re memories)
Only to find hidden bodies, bedraggled leftovers,
Severed heads with brains extracted, skins shed and discarded,
They all wear the same face that haunts my reflection.
Funny how hearing fog makes me feel it – A poem
the sun rises as soon as it sets, did time skip
or did the sky forget to turn blue?
sometimes leaves forget to crunch when they’re stepped on
and silence is as disturbing as a ceaseless sound,
there’s a pounding in my ear that’s both muffled and loud.
A souvenir of youth – A poem
As I grow older, birthdays
Begin to lose their smell –
The smell of new and familiar
Synchronised in a melody of scents.
Birthdays smell particular,
Not dissimilar to the first bout of spring
And freshly cut grass, freshly
Washed bed sheets, or freshly baked bread.
Hypnotised – A poem
Our days together don’t feel quite real
The sunrise, sunset routines still resume
But the clock stops on real life, plucked
And placed into a pocket universe with you.
Celestial Bodies – A poem
I wonder if the stars connect us as we connect them,
Piecing us together with strings of light
Like puzzles in a pocket book,
I’m only a dot, barely visible between blinks,
But maybe we were both visible between the same blink.
Maybe we both sparkled at the same time,
And you led to me or I led to you.
Maybe I was one or maybe I was two,
Or maybe we blundered our own way into each others view.
The making of a mess – A poem
We often forget to watch when dust and grime accumulates,
Collects under our nails, forms a film over our skin,
Nests in the fibres of our carpet, settles on outsides and within.
It’s a slow assembly of a compilation of the messes
We abandoned instead of disentangling.
We listen to music through knotted headphones
And instead of taking time to unravel the wires,
We learn to live with the discomfort.
From the eyes of the moon – A poem
I watch them closely, the night people,
There’s not much else to see as the world is asleep.
They are remarkably awake for the non nocturnal,
Maybe they’re nocturnal at heart.
I watch them as they dance
And as they speak with such a tenderness
As if their words will be remembered…
And they will.
Diamonds and Flowers – A poem
I feared in cutting my hair I would
Cut away my ability to twirl the locks
Around my finger and in turn
Be left with a loss of femininity.
But femininity isn’t found
In my wearing of a dress nor is it
Erased by boots and leather jackets.
It isn’t seen but expressed with a soft
Caress of his neck or a hand through his hair
And flushed cheeks in the sun.
Sweet smiles and a head held high.
Femininity is the delicacy of a flower
And the power of a diamond
That will never break and
It’s pretty because it sparkles
Not because it’s rare.
Don’t mistake lipstick for blood – A poem
a cracked lipstick kiss
tastes more than pink,
like spat cherry pips
staining curtains and carpet.
a scratched cheek,
bloodshot eyes from
not enough sleep,
a heart that is hot with
too many beats.
Anthology of you – A poem
Names always seemed to sound strange to say
Maybe I was just afraid of them meaning too much,
But I just want to say yours over
And over and over, I want to savour it,
I just want to feel it roll off my tongue.
And my name sounds like a song when you say it
Or should I say sing?
I could listen to you speak for an eternity
Your words filled with life and love
And light, your face ignites with the brightness
Of your smile and your eyes,
I never want to stop looking at you.
You inspire me.
You inspire me to grow.
Lauren Kathleen 