Dreams As Reality.
I implore your good self
would you walk away right now
before we go too far

before your whispers get tangled up in my sheets
before your heartbeat becomes the soundtrack of my dreams
because when you're gone, my bed will feel like a tomb
where I sleep with your ghost
and your eyes will be all I see
like an after image of the sun when I close my eyes

would you leave if I begged you to
would you walk away
and take your heart, your kiss, your smile
would you leave right now
because it's already too late?

Hopeful In the Night.
And I stand in the rain
thankful for the thunder
yearning for the lighting,
at least the skies
still wish to kiss me.

Within and Without.
You live fearful
that every night
the ghosts you keep close
may find their way out
and eat you from within,
so that as the dawn breaks
and crimson stains grey skies
you stare bleary eyed, into the mirror of your soul
and fail to see
the demon staring right back at you.

Again.
If I could leave you with one last thing
it would be a 'thank you'
thank you for scrubbing off the blackened, charred skin
and helping me see I am beautiful within.

You helped me realise, truly realise
that I wasn't the first person to feel hurt
and I certainly wouldn't be the last
that I didn't have a monopoly
on sorrow or pain
but. . .
you told me that if I ever did get hurt
you'd be there to kiss away the pain.

Thank you because you showed me
it was ok
to trust again.

Crossed Lines. 
I needed you then
with a passion
that overflowed crimson
painting my days
with a tender ache
and colouring my nights
with shades of your smile.

I needed you then,
I still need you now.

Scar Tissue.
I mistook your smile for the moon
and like a sailor lost at sea
you became my North
I let you take me to the edge of the world
and as the clouds stole you from me
I unstitched my heart and used
the needle of my broken compass to point me home again.

Memories.
Memories stay with me like children
Children borne of my own flesh and blood
Children made from me and you
And as my own I will cherish them
As they grow within me
They will keep me warm through cold nights
and lonely days
They will grow sweeter in time
And in time I will learn to love them more than life itself
For that is what I will be left
when all else fails
And on my deathbed they will surround me
And perhaps out of pity
even the worst of my children
may lie to me
Soften the blow and tell me
lies about how it really went
And maybe I will live forever
In the remembered lives
of my progeny
Please remember me fondly.

Of Dreams.
I was the perfect prayer
in your desperate hour

with my heart and soul
in your irreverent hands

I was the faith
seeking out the heart

you the unbeliever
too proud to believe.

A Memory.
You are enshrined in my chest
where every thought
or word I ink
is borne of you,
so when you left
our time was rinsed away,
and although life must go on
I forget why . . .

that which I miss the most
is all that I had lost.

It's Not Me, It's You.
We don't need another McDonald's,
Starbucks,
or fat frying KFC
maybe just stop stuffing your face,
your ears, your mind
with all that BS they're feeding you on TV
put down your smart phones
your tablets, your notebooks
just put them damned things down
and look at me
coz if you ain't ready to turn off and tune in
then maybe you should quit calling me baby
why don't you return my keys
and forget my number while you're at it
hey,
I wasn't put on this earth
to be your charging plug point
for when your batteries are low
so don't call on me
when you find some scraps of time
in your busy schedule
or when your boo forgets about you
and you need a shoulder to cry on
I ain't your momma or your all day restaurant
and I sure as hell ain't your personal ATM,
or your get-outta-jail free pass
if you ain't here for me now
then all you'll see
is the trail of dust I leave
as I drive away from your sad ass life.

The Mechanic.

You towed your broken down

beat up, used, rusted old

Chevy into my workshop

smelling like crap, and looking a whole lot worse

with a busted engine

sputtering like a plane

(but not in a good way)

you leaked black oil all over my floors

stains of which I still can’t remove

no matter how many gallons of bleach I use

The radiator, well let’s just say

had seen better days

the interior leather seats were torn

and the once slick body

looked like you had pissed off

some mafia kingpin

So I spent my days and nights

greased up and elbow deep,

in your muck trying desperately,

but lovingly

to do what a mechanic does best

and I was leaking time

like I owned it, when I could’ve

should’ve found a more profitable fixer upper

I told myself, no convinced myself otherwise

and eventually, against the odds,

fixed you

then some schmo walks in

a bulge from both pockets

wads of cash

grabs you right outta my hands

the you I returned,

to a shiny beauty as best I could

with the tools I had

. . . well then,
maybe I did fix you

I just never realised, I was doing it

for someone else.

Time.
We spoke about life together. And after the smiles and cuddles, your expression changed to one of sadness. You were sad about how everything was so temporary and fleeting.

"What about us?", you said.
"Are we just hitching a ride until something better comes along?"

So go ahead, ask me again about how our days are numbered. And I will tell you that this is true. Our days are indeed numbered.

But numbered by the amount of times you hug me from behind when I least expect it. Or the number of hours we spend awake whispering to each other over the telephone. What about the numerous times you read a text from me and smile from ear to ear like a crazed fool. Or all those minutes that have been lost tracing the veins on your hands and giving each of them feminine names. Let's count the days by the amount of stolen glances we share. Or the secret jokes only we are privy to. I'll count the days as I count the freckles on your back. And you number yours by the unexpected kisses you give me when no one is watching.

Magik Step.
The shadow you neglect
that pause as you reflect
I linger like a scar
or a childhood trauma
seared into your memory
think of me when you sense the rain
or the scent of freshly cut grass
the echoes from the howling
of a lonely freight train,
because I am that ghost
haunting your past
living in the galaxies that collide
between your shoulder blades
or the bruises that rise
black and blue
under your skin
where sweet colours bloom
to a saturated hue.

Speak Easy.
Your hands
they speak to me
spelling out words
some kind of elegant scrawl upon my skin,
an erotic kind of sign language
leaving traces of Braille all over me.

Mirage.
In my darkened loneliness
memories of you dance before my eyes
so vividly in technicolor
and a lump rises in my throat
as your name floats about in my mouth
traversing the undulations of my crooked teeth
and teasing the sense regions of my tongue
I whisper your name
as if I were ascribing divinity
to those simple syllables
as if my incantations could bring you back to me
as if it were anything more
than words tumbling onto the hardwood floor.

And Abba Played In the Background.
When it no longer hurt to hear your name said out loud, a friend asked me what it was like being with you. He broached the topic cautiously and with an apologetic smile on his face.

I said it was horrible. He said, "What? Why?". I told him that the way you treated me, with the constant to-ing and fro-ing of emotions, left me with a bad case of emotional whiplash.

Then he said, "Isn't that what love is? Love makes you confuse what's up and what's down".

I told him it's only ever worth it if you end up with the person. After all, no one remembers the runner up to any race. The winner takes it all, the loser has to fall.

This Here and Now.
If you’re browsing
for choices
go to the five-and-dime store
if you ain’t got the cash
whatcha still standing here for?

This ain’t no thrift shop
this is the real deal
there ain’t no ‘made in China’ burnished on my skin
if you want this
you gotta play to win.

I’m not here
to settle down
but I won’t take a
here-today-gone-tomorrow
type of love either.

I can pick myself off the floor,
open my own doors,
change my own lightbulbs,
and check own my black oil.

I don’t need
diamonds in my bathtub
but don’t think I’m just some old plaything
you can pull off the shelf
every time you get lonely at night.

I am not a phase
I am the whole damn cycle.

Treat me like your princess,
and I’ll treat you like a prince
but if you treat me wrong,
then I’m (not) sorry
but you’re gone.

Wasted too much precious time on Jokers,
it’s time to deal me a King.

You Are.
My dear, you are rousing
  Exciting and stirring
    Soul searing
      Tear jerking
        Heart pounding
          Earth shattering
            But never mine to begin with.

Better Off In the Long Run. 
Don't tell me that it's better off in the long run
That this will do us good
When I'm stuck living in yesterday
And you're spending my tomorrow
with somebody new. 

Sorrow isn't a goodbye
It isn't forgotten dreams shared over cups of bitter coffee
Sorrow is having love walk away
And realising it's taking with it your best friend.

What of all those plans
Left out in the sun to dry
Old tarnished remnants, of how it used to be
Standing like monuments
Chiseled by the winds of time, until nothing remains.

That's you riding shotgun beside the victor
Sparing a melancholic glance at me through the rear view window
I'll wipe my face but you won't see
These tears that stain
So as rivulets of black carve canals down my cheeks
Don't you dare tell me that it's better in the long run. 

Awe.
Quieten your mind and steady your heartbeat
Close your eyes and listen
The wind she howls
And lightning paints streaks across the skies
The mountains they tremble
And thunder she rolls
I am unafraid and yet, moved to tears
This life is an adventure in your abode
You my mother, my Earth,
I will spend a lifetime
Deciphering your code.

Our Story
We ignored all storm signals
and scoffed at the rolling thunder and flashing lightning
but when the skies opened and she cried without end
we stood our ground and cursed the Heavens above,
we were never good at building boats
and as the ground shook beneath our feet
we bit our lips, and tried to raise the Titanic instead.