Impression - III

This was a while ago, I admit

But still sometimes it plays on my mind.

I was wrapping your present,

In whatever I could find, and I came across

A rather familiar foil, it's glare ensnared me,

And it's hue, it glared,

So without once turning over

I chose to use it, unprepared

For perhaps what was going to be,

My realisation of pure truth's

Retaliation, as I tied the knot,

The binding complete, 

What's outside obsolete,

But so carefully made,

Torn and withdrawn,

After the prize has been paid,

And the lies have been laid

Deep down into the ground,

Waiting for the dawn.

And even then, within it's useless gleam,

There are two halves, two sides, joined at one seam;

Though it's true that rarely both are known,

Whichever's underneath basks in it's dreams,

To have the shine of it's doppleganger,

Pseudo-silver simulated perfection,

Artificially embedded with light's deception,

Reproducing the mirror; the art of reflection,

Though it's trapped inside a shallow surface,

Superficial shine, always superficially mine,

And after a while I had to ask myself this:

Why am I the one that has to fulfill the design?
Does the maker not know that perfection confines?

My vain mind couldn't explain why I was thus inclined,

And why did such radiance become cruel and unkind?

But how vividly must I be reminded,

That I only am the ancillary section.

If you were to pick me up, I would not

Replace a jeweled collection, 

Nor would I want to.

As when everyone has made their selection,

In an apparent and cosmetic craze,

I remain simply single faceted,

But that one lucid look in your direction,

Is hopefully enough to set your clarity ablaze.

Degradation - I

You were always fidgeting,
Countless coffee rings on that table,
You kept moving the mug back and forth.
It was those little things which kept me able,
To trust in myself, stop looking down and
Start looking north.

Your star which led me, bright through the night,
Your tendency to turn on the lights, though the sun
Had not quite set yet. Your dependency to
Let me be, as I walked around the stale warmth
Of that small room. Yet it felt so open, second to none
Though it was tucked away in a little corner of our lives,
Not appreciated until our lack of adjacency.

My frog-green leather chair,
Your were carrying the books, you
Made the tear. From then on I was hooked,
And when you weren't there I would sometimes
Sit, by the stained table and pretend to be stable,
Stroking the wound and watching myself cry,
In that almost insignificant place.

The musty smell of the flailing wallpaper,
Now a feature but now like the others,
My breath, when the heatings off, like always,
Turned into vapor and my words sailing
On expired air.

Behind it, you could almost see where
The wall was breaking.
The end of our golden coast,
The end of our champagne toast,
The end of our Sunday roast,
What meant the most,
Now it's faking.
We were so close,
but now we're flaking.

Full Moon

Your face imperfect, it's shine unmatched,
Too far to touch, yet I'm still attached.
Your voice too quiet, blocked by the sky,
Yet millions of miles speak louder
Than you ever would with I.

If I look up,
Past the burnt orange lights,
Past the morning and the afternoon,
If I wait long enough,
I know I'll see you soon.

And although at times you let yourself,
Be taken by the silver ghost.
And although I can see your outline
Behind the blocks of broken obscurity,
The doubt remains.

Impression - II

I know my room is warm.

I can feel it, damp density, it clings to me

As I walk in. The door is shut,

The draught seems binding, 

My path unwinding,

And yet it seems somewhat

Confined, and I stand resigned,

All that's left is to hand in my mind,

And hang out my tears to dry.

Yet when I sit in that familiar place,

The physicality fawns over me,

My molded shadow in mental form,

My missing window won't shatter in the storm,

My blindness and my outlook interlaced. 

And like the first ray of dawn,

I can feel the first shake,

I tremble unbound feeling restlessly awake,

And I wish that I could fall asleep,

But like little pricks of sunshine

The reality slowly heats it's way,

Up and out, back to that day,

And I'm left feeling cold,

The burn seems benign.

My return was untold,

My yearning refined.

Impression - I

On that night, I became my other,
Perhaps better self. Although only
For a few hours could I endure,
Being in a place where I was so unsure,
I lost my sight, falling just short of lonely.

Still I held, I didn't want to bother
You, my endless chain of alluring letters,
My waning blame and my trust detained,
In a one by one cell dating back to square one,
I was scared; so I poured the half-full cup down
The half-empty drain, unaware of what I had done.

So with an ache I could not explain,
I started to run. To any place which I could
Pretend to prefer, the empty breath threw me back
Like firing blanks from a gun,
But this time I still felt their absence,
I felt them leave, and I could still defend
What they had overcome.

Sunrise

I am the feeling.
You make the choice.
I say the words.
Yet you have the voice.

On a chance wander,
I caught myself amidst a blunder,
It was dawn and by the first light,
I was awakening under
The fading night.

Though I had not felt it before,
The dew had become my mattress,
And I was trembling too much to ignore
The unfamiliar ache.

But I need to get up.
Otherwise I'll forever be half-asleep.
Too scared to open my eyes,
In case I look too deep.

Just Like Water

Maybe it's time I stop for a second,
And simply, in reality, beckon you near.
It feels as though I'm waiting at the bottom,
And you, at the top;
Submerged in your sea,
You refuse to sink and I refuse,
To rise.

You're the pearl, the pure potent prize,
Yet by impossible chance you hover
Just above breaking point, as I discover
That there is just about nothing left I can peruse,
Nothing I can reduce, nothing so obtuse
But I find it hard to dive into another
As longingly, and although soon it will be
Too dark to run freely, I pace myself shallowly,
But the pressure sometimes, makes it
Seem like I don't try too deeply,
But you can't see below the surface.

Though I know it, the pain in your eyes,
And sometimes I see you sit on the edge,
And dip your feet into the rain.
Though things seems distorted,
I know that your pale form seems unsupported,
And like a ghost that has haunted,
Or so it's been alleged,
My silent lake has resorted,
For your sake, to have it's currents
Aborted.

I don't wanna make a sound,
Anytime you come around.
I keep my eyes fixed on the ground,
Too scared to bring you down,
So I drown myself in shame unbound.

Arches - I

Sometimes, when I'm walking home,
I feel like the wind tries to hold me back,
That the streetlights shine pitch-black,
That the pavement cracks threaten
To trap me in their glistening chrome,
To throw me off track;
To swallow me whole
As I wallow in lack.

Part crow part coat,
My umbrella tends to buckle.
A split-second decision to let go,
As my metal bird flies form my hands,
Higher and higher into the overcast wonderland.

My kerb is my tightrope,
Balancing on the concrete roller-coaster,
The thrill touches me on the shoulder,
But I have no safety rope,
I have no seat-belt,
In fact, I have no seat
So I must soldier on through the damp.

I make a leap of faith,
The patchy grass seems to stand to attention,
Commanding it's own death by drowning.
I press my feet in for protection,
But it seems like the sun is already crowning,
It is born as the clouds smother it with affection,
Though it appears unloved, frowning.

Suddenly my escapade seems so dry,
My murky eyes just want to get back inside,
Nearly happy but I clinch a lie,
As I need to pick myself up,
And away from this ride,
Suddenly it's gone awry,
My turn has passed,
My end implied.

Terminal - I

So I left myself behind
Waiting for that day.
Though it was freedom I tried to find,
I only lost my way.

I arrived at the platform,
Twenty years too late.
I tried to fly back time,
But there was no-one at the gate.

Waiting for me was an empty case,
Which I should have used
All that time ago.
I gathered up all my strength,
And locked it into space.
As my arms were bruised,
And I could not carry grace,
I held it at arms length,
Walking at a steady pace,
But already so confused.

Usually, so many people
Would have crowded on these chairs.
Patiently sitting for their journey to begin.
Once, I thought I saw your face
But now there's no-one there.

I walk up to the bar.
The stools look so bare,
I order, and then make,
Myself a coffee.
It's tasteless; but I don't care.

I would get myself drunk,
But empty bottles never
Had much of an effect.
But the absence of naivety
Does give me time to reflect
On when and wherever
It's my turn to leave.

I look at my wrist,
At the memory of the watch
I no longer have.
I weave my way in between the vacant aisles
I choose one at random,
I take a seat.

I'm in the waiting room.
I steadily count my heartbeat.
I clutch my ticket in my hand.
But I know when it comes to it,
When it comes to checking who I am,
I can't let myself go ahead with it.
It's true, you wouldn't know
I held your hand and then you laughed as you let go,
So I wouldn't expect you to understand.
But it's not me.
That image you have in your heart.
Is nothing like what I have become
As I have grown, finally.

I only lost my way.
Though it was freedom I tried to find,
Waiting for that day.
So I left myself behind.

Woods

That night when you left, half way through,
I stayed and looked up, though face down.
Unknown sounds were my lullaby, as they surrounded me,
From behind dark trees and lonely wreathes.

The rustling remnants were my bed,
My blanket only the winter chill,
It's breath passing over me like a final sigh,
The decision made. So I lay,

As what was alive rusts
Into tawny distrust.
But I thought that it was pure,
But when the moon rose,
And when the rain fell,
It burnt down to the core.
Something so natural, but now unsure.

Feeling as if I should be somewhere else.
But I inhale the nocturne of silence,
Self-induced in my coma, I felt the need,
To turn over.

And I could see, through the tinted leaves,
Or at least, that's what I thought they were.
And in between the branches, hands
Holding me apart, the stars that keep me together.
Only every few seconds or so
Would the wind brush away the arms,
And I could see their glimmer,
Through the trembling fingers,
Through the clouds caress,
But with time the gaps become thinner,
And now I can only guess.

Recall

Once ashamed but now it gives me hope to hear your name
Found it so hard but there's no need for me to be ashamed
Silent happiness has made sure we could win this game
And it seems our bliss was bruised so long ago
Yet still we know, that time won't stay the same,
As nothing's lost until we admit that it's so.

Iris

Sunshine glows so brightly through the dusty window,
The dormant vase, it's glass seems promising,
Waiting for it's flowers to bloom, they stand on stalks,
Scared of waking up all too soon, like soft chalk
Their white latent simplicity stands tall,
As their shadow lightens the wall,
Burning blossoms still have time to grow,
Though these brighter ones don't seem to know.

Solar

If I try really hard, and look past the blurred reflections
Of myself in the slanted window, I can pretend
I'm someone else, someone I don't know,
Someone who basks in affection,
Like a sunrise which never ends,
A sunset which pretends, to stop when you turn away,
And wait for you return until it starts the night,
And ends your days.

I could imagine a change, that the flickering streetlight,
Which usually shines down upon the glittering pavement,
It's appetite wet by the previous drizzle, but now it's expecting,
All the liquid silver that the cracks are collecting,
So what once felt so whole is waiting in vain,
As the imperfections are clogged up with pain.

It's orange glow strikes through the black,
A shadow-curtain drawn by my hands across the sky,
I count the clouds as they pass me by,
They can be anything; a hand, a heart, but too soon to start
Thinking about thinking, can't bear to let my eyes start blinking,
In a second everything could stop, my dreams could fall apart.

I can vaguely make out the white striped lines,
Against the tarmac they stand proud,
The higher the go the more time it takes,
For me to guess where they'll end up,
And I wonder aloud, if I could just
Use my brakes, and hope that I'm allowed
To slip and slide endlessly on the ludicrous idea
That you and I could perhaps dance to the sound,
Of the rhythms of the rain,
And turn my life around,
So I'm facing forwards again.

Aware

The lightest touch is like the heaviest hold.
Wrapped in a warm embrace,
Muffled in layers of comforting cold,
As they numb my fears in the outside world,
Or so I am told.

The slightest breath is like the deepest song,
That anyone has ever sung.
Waiting for it for so long.
I press my ear against your chest,
And I can hear the imperfections in your lungs,
Yet they sound more perfect than you could ever suggest.

The brightest light shines through my life,
What you said was dark, what defines your touch,
Seems to glow through my strife, unsuppressed,
And it will grow to be the best that I have known as such.

Miscommunication - II

Your hand is running through my hair
And with every breath it seems it slows
After a while it feels like nothing's there
And after the shine, the grey shows

I wake up to sunshine in a cup
But the taste is no longer sweet,
A repetitive song in my mouth
The same sounds on my tongue.

The rainy days where we'd still venture outwards,
Sitting in the empty parks,
Listening to the leaves' longing,
Every drop clinging, until they fall,
And suddenly, they are unimportant.
The wind shook the branches of the trees,
Leaving the sky to our imagination,
The platinum clouds now faded,
And now the brightness of the water has jaded.
I can feel it at last.
The cold harsh stinging on my skin.