Time To Fly The Nest

Mother,
You and I are sat
Side-by-side
On a giant white plane,
A dreamy bird that seems to
Fill the entire expanse of the sky.
You look across at me
With love and content,
But also with fear;
You are afraid of flying
And want to hold my hand.
I roll my eyes
But dutifully take yours in mine
And clasp it tight as though
It were a precious gem.

All of a sudden,
We are no longer sat
Side-by-side
Your plane is going one way
Whilst my plane another.
I also abruptly notice that
I’ve been left to fly my own plane
And the cabin pressure is rising
And the floor has fallen away,
Landed in a blazing heap below.

There will surely be turbulence
Completely out of my control
And I will struggle
Without you,
Struggle like never before.
This heavenly highway is
A one way road;
Once I’ve flown away,
There is no going back.

However
I will one day become accustomed
To navigating through cloudy storms
And sitting alone,
But I’ll still find myself
Looking across,
Searching the never ending sky,
For just a trace of you
Because the truth is Mum,
I want to hold your hand too.

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A Problem Shared Is Not Always Halved

I’m not so sure it’s favourable,
For either of us, actually,
That I shed some of this weight
From my shoulders and my back –
The dense, heavy boulders,
As well as the slippery rocks –
And load them atop your carriage
To share with me my heaviest burdens.
After all,
You have your own boulders to carry,
Your own rocks and stones to hold.
“A problem shared is a problem halved”
Is not true if the case is that
I am left light and free
And you are left twice as heavy as me.
It’s best that I continue as I am,
Be my own Atlas
Holding the weight of my own world,
And you journey on, my friend,
Never looking back
Even if my dense, heavy boulders
And slippery rocks
Bury me alive;
It’s best you just bear your own load.

Rib Cage

I feel my sharpened set of ribs
Like blades beneath my skin
Constantly reminding me
Of the 10 foot wall between
This stony heart and I.
My hand wriggles under them,
Blind and desperate, searching
For just one spare inch of love
That I’ve left for myself –

No luck; empty handed again.

May 22nd

I wish I had watched him flee that night
To see if he faltered at the driver’s wheel
Or if my cries and sobs almost lured him back into the house
Or if he even glimpsed a look just one last time
At our small peaceful life now a burning wreck.
Or was his decisiveness so deafening, so cold
That his mind was not clouded by even an inch of doubt
As he drove away into the jet black nothingness, leaving me behind.

Ode to Childhood

A gentle Spring breeze caresses my rosy face
Flushed with natural radiance and delight.
The black roses are still red, still bright.
Their eau de parfum is soft as lace.

The cuts on my skin are but innocent grazes
And when I fall I can easily get back up.
My clothes are loose; I am fat like a pup
But comfortable, not caring for other’s gazes.

The ice-cream on my tongue is sweet, cold,
Though it carries the promise of Summer yet.
When the glowing sun begins to set
The night sky is still warm, still pink and gold.

I am greeted by a mother with only eyes for me
Her arms envelope me like we’ll never meet again
She whispers like a secret: “my child, carpe diem”.
Finally I am just in dreams that ebb and flow like the sea.

Youth, like Spring, can offer eternal joy
But Youth, like Spring, time will one day destroy.

(Ir)Rational Fears

You may ask me
“What’s your biggest fear?”
And I may reply
“Being underground”
But I may also reply

“Being alone.
Nothing scares me more
Than the idea that
Everyone who loves me
Has the capability of leaving me.

Love, like a home grown plant,
Can wilt and die before your eyes.
It can fade like the felt tip
Scribblings of our names
On a wall somewhere back home.

Love can leave without you even noticing.
It can creep out like a burglar in the night,
And soon enough people will go with it
Without giving you a chance
To stick a band aid over the cracks.”

Recalling a Stranger

I remember that his eyes were green,
Though I don’t remember the exact shade;

Were they dark and murky?
Or light and fresh, like spring grass?

And I remember that we talked all night
But I can’t remember the sound of his voice.

Was it cool, confident, calm?
Or full of life, and the promise of something more?

Duvet

i love the gentle weight of this duvet atop my tired body

as the weight of everything else slowly drifts away

He Moved In

And all of a sudden
My house is full of coffee,
And mint scented shampoo,
And there are cuff links on the coffee table.

I now change in the bathroom
After showering, and no longer
Sing as loud as I can as the water
Drip drip drips down my back.

I mistakenly pick up 3 forks, not 4,
And I lock the door before he is home
Forgetting we’re not all safely inside yet.
And “we’re” now includes him.

People always say “home is not where you are,
It’s who you’re with”.
In that case,
I don’t think I’m home anymore.

Wishing on Eyelashes

I’ve never believed in any God.

I found it hard to put my trust in something that I could not see,

Something that, in my eyes, could not be logically explained.

Though I would sometimes find myself jealous of those who found faith with ease.

 

So why is it, then, that I find myself wishing on eyelashes?

Is it really because I believe this dead hair from my eyelid

Has the ability to grant me all of my golden wants?

Surely this is more nonsensical than any God could ever be?

Yet I still find myself;

Eyes closed, lash perched on fingertip,

Steadily exhaling as I think of a wish.

 

And how about dandelions?

Their pretty tufts take flight in the wind

And carry my wishes with them.

Shooting stars, even.

They are just as bright as my hopes and dreams,

And thus they tow with them a small piece of my heart

To the ends of the world.

My wishes will outlive us all.

 

Perhaps I am too innocent, or too foolish, too naive

To believe in something so inconceivable.

But once you have lost faith in God,

Lost belief in Santa Claus even,

The world is far too much of a scary place

To not be wishing on eyelashes.