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Sometimes I Feel Lonely

Sometimes I feel all alone, I have friends and I have family, But they all are too busy for me. Sometimes I feel so lonely, I’m surrounded by people all day, But none of them make me feel wanted. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one, In the relationship of two. I’m here&present while […]

via Sometimes I Feel (lonely) — all of me

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The End Of The Affair (Quote)

I loved this film, beautifully filmed and devastating. This scene struck me in particular.
Sarah:
Love doesn’t end, just because we don’t see each other.
Maurice Bendrix:
Doesn’t it?
Sarah:
People go on loving God, don’t they? All their lives. Without seeing him.
Maurice Bendrix:
That’s not my kind of love.
Sarah:
Maybe there is no other kind.
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Reflections in two mirrors

He sent them to be seen by her. That he had tangible proof of his commitment to his purpose and his growth. Each session, each rejection of easy but costly temptation was there in the heft of his pectorals, the lines and striations in his hip flexors and the way that the softness around his jawline was disappearing. He loved the reaction, knowing that she carried the coiling heat of want within her. A talisman against the bland sweep of days. He could not fake the look in his eyes, in a moment sourced in purest expression of his primal, sexual self. Such awareness and acceptance was rare, he had denied it before, but now he was comforted and protected by it.

She struggled with it. She knew the angles to offset the parts of herself that remained distasteful to her. Her body rebelled with the marks of time, but his reaction cast its  magic over her. A litany of informed praise, fuelled by want rather than need. Through him, she saw herself and it rubbed raw against everything else around her. A sweet pain, an eroticized grief that in its rejection, left deep scars that only he would be able to heal.

Now the mirror, the chain of static images connects them both and they pretend it is not there for the sake of sanity.

It remains though, and it would take so little yet so much to pick it up again and feel its comforting, powerful weight.

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To Be Seen

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I wish to be seen

Desired

Appreciated

Even as I walk through

The faded hours

Alone

I respond to 

Small bursts of 

Recognition

Stars to light my way

On the darkest parts

Of the path

I walk

I do not need it

But my want is a trade

Where you inspire

And in return, 

I embolden 

Take you to holy

Places within yourself

That no other man

Could take you

See me

As I am

A dragon unfurling

A bear rearing upon

Hind legs

Come to me

And bear

Witness

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A rainbow

​you

 a walking rainbow in person

Brilliant clear blue

Henna red and creamy white

Seen but never reached

Formed in perfect juxtaposition

Of storm and sunshine

Tried to walk

But you were never

Going to meet me 

Halfway

So instead I watch

Until finally you fade

Like you were never there

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Two Pages (16/10/16)

forest-meadow-leaves-autumn

Today’s date almost looks like a palindrome.

I’ve finished the last draft of Until She Sings. I have also started editing She’s Here. Lawful Evil is going well, and am now some 250 pages into the first draft.  I’ve been doing a lot more reading the last few days, and have ploughed through quite a few books inbetween chores and general day to day stuff. There’s been a lot to think about and certainly my reading has had a stoic focus on the work of Joyce Carol Oates, with three of her books devoured in a weekend when it was too wet to be out amongst nature.

I also got stung by a dead bee but that’s a story for another time.

I am also now on Facebook. So please feel free to add me on there.

I hope this finds you all well, appreciating the beauty and sadness of everything around us and within us. There is a lot of both, and sometimes the latter drowns out the former, but it’s there.

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Violent Delights

I tremble with the

Effort of control

Not monstrous

Nor misogynistic, although

The accusation is thrown,

Oftentimes in hindsight

I understand

Forgive it

Envy it sometimes

The light of

Self-knowledge

Makes my head hurt

Even as other aches

Rise like smoke

I would never hurt

Intentionally

I only come

When called

Invite me across

The threshold

But do not expect

Tender gifts in

Return

Too often given

Expensive

And I need

Time to heal

The ghosts

All offer

But never promise

They die as wholly

As my heart

But these violent delights

Remain

Too powerful

To be wielded

By anyone

I bear them

In lieu

When they leave

Like those

Who praised them

The loudest

A fall

Into

Silence

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Funeral for a chalk painting

On the stretch 

Of even, worn pavement

You drew looping, nonsensical

Loops of colours

Fingers tattooed with chalk dust

I liked how the hair

Hung in your face

A curtain rising

On the beautiful theatre 

Of your violet eyes

The picture drew me in

Then out

And I trusted that you were 

Gentle with me

Some deep wounds beneath

This armour

But the sketch grew

From present to past

To future

But we forgot about

The rain, didn’t we?

You needed shelter 

More than the need to

Preserve something as beautiful

As it was fragile

You washed your hands

The picture trickled away

Whispers

Smears, memories ingrained

In the treads of my shoes

The dust stayed

On my fingers

I keep it to remember you by

A mourner at a funeral

My name chiselled 

Into the headstone

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Ghosts of Celluloid

He sits at the back of the theatre

Recalls how it was all new

Once

No colour, no computer generated effects

Not even sound.

He looks at people hunched over their phones.

People move so much faster

He doesn’t get why people

Wear their hair the way that

They do

Why the news is always bad

He knows that the day he wakes up

Without pain

Will be when he’s dead.

Stopping to make conversation

But there’s no time for that

People too busy

He looks out

Wishes not that he could go back

He treasures every precious mistake

Nor does he seek to disappear

No, what he asks for,

As the music swells

Is that things slow down

To the point

That we could all stop

See one another

And start to talk

She moves from the screen

From a time before

The world broke her spirit

Her lips press against his cheek

Not caring that his hands shook

Too much to shave

His chest grows tight

And he follows her

Leaving everything behind

Missing every frustrated second

As he lets the world go on

Without him.

 

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She Leaves By Degrees

She leaves by degrees.

I potter around

Offering up trinkets

That she used to celebrate

But now smiles

Politely says thanks

We use the words ‘I love you’

When really we mean

‘I’m scared, not that you’re leaving’

‘But you’ve already left’

I read through a million books

Write a million poems

And they all say the same thing

That I gave everything

And that you can still do everything right

And lose something irreplaceable

Some feelings too ugly for speech

And the bed is so cold

Too large a wasteland to wander alone

Showing me affection

But no passion

We made a ghost

That haunts us both

You never quite leave

But you never quite stay