Tag Archives: relationships

21 September

Missent words
reflected in a new
message grow

To taste the touch
to leave me in
the dark – is
this a sign unrecognised?

Too much talk
on an empty mind.
That’s what
this is –

or could it be?

A blind side

Whining myself
on talk below the
mind, yet the mindless
thoughts house
themselves securely and sure.

Leave me,
remove them;
this I know,
is only a worthless

Flint afore my
eyes, sparks from
a stone, the knowledge
of decisions
from nights ago
freshen the skin in an
unnamed shame.

But were the decisions
regret or correct –
that is what I still
need to know.

Limited Nights

I keep having dreams about the people I used to meet.
Of the people I loved and the hopes we dreamed.
Never falling in love easily has been a trait of mine,
but last year was a time when it seemed that
everyone I met impaled my mind and twisted a form
upon my fate.

I think I only dream when I’m in love,
and these past few nights, the dreams
have come and stayed, imprinting their
impressions of something once great.

But how those days ended so swift,
and the longing of home to end quick.

A Thanks to Alcohol

Half of my friends are married,
the other half engaged.

Now I don’t know about any of that,
nowt about the struggles of a relationship,
the compromises made between.

But I sure do know how
to drain another drink.

Maybe if I were Braver (Part Three)

Maybe If I Were Braver (Part Three)


I’d know the words to tell you—rather than these pleading thoughts of mine.

I’d ask you to meet before you leave.

And I want to, really I do.

And I’m jealous of your friends who are your age, who live near you, who are able to relate in a way I can’t be expected to.

Is it so wrong that I hope you get jealous when my newest guy friend comments and posts on my wall? And it seems like ever since he (who is only a friend—we both friendzoned each other pretty quickly, thankfully) started, you’ve been ever-present on my on-line interactions?

Or am I just imagining things again….

Note to a Former Friend

I did all the right things; we met in public, a well-light area, I kept my voice even, I kept my speech riddled with facts.

I wanted to break up with you, my best friend for nearly seven years.

We were growing apart, we were spending more time fighting and debating and trying to sweep our literal problems under a figurative rug.

You made me less than what I could be; with you, I wasn’t the person who I wanted to become.


And you flared up, turning into a person I did not, could not, recognise.

‘No one else will put up with your shit like I do,’ you growled to me.

But I remained strong, secure in the fact that you were wrong. I remained calm and called you out on your lies.


A little more talking, a little less drinking of the coffee that waitress was set on pouring for me.


We haven’t spoken since last summer, I haven’t regretted saying ‘good-bye’ to you. I haven’t thought of calling you like I very nearly called Coffee Boy.


Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing, instead of the best.

And on different days I have different answers.

But right now, I am content with my decision made months ago.


I looked you up on Facebook.

Fifty-one mutual friends that are more yours than mine.

And I asked to add you as a ‘friend’


I laughed, loudly and out of my head into the ‘real’ world.

I want you to see me,

and see how great my life is at this moment.


Because it is fucking amazing.