espresso and snow

The scribblings and thoughts of J. Edward C. "I like colours, bright colours."

[espressoandsnow]

You push me away, and

I take it on the chin.

But just this once I wish,

I wish you’d let me in.

[espressoandsnow]

Beware, dead end.

It’s All Hallow’s Eve and all hell has broke loose. There’s a lump in my throat and a neck in my noose.

The lone-star shines sharp through the mist. An owl hoot-howls as I firm-form a fist.

The wind whispers spooky-sweet nothings through holey hedge-rows.

The low rumbling of a train comes, and comes,      and comes             and goes.

The church-bell chimes,                  eleven times.

- God knows I hope to see the witching hour,   but I’ve seen a ghost tonight and this path I walk leads nowhere.

[espressoandsnow]

The Early Apple

One of the trees in my garden has apples on already and it’s still only July

It might be a sign of the times or maybe it’s a freak of nature but either way it seems early to me

I mean yeah they’re not full size and yeah they’re still green but one has even fallen (just one) from the tree

The swallows fly and the aeroplanes pass by leaving their fluffy trails above me high in the sky

The door is open and song lyrics softly blare out across the evening as I sit without a care

Of all of the gardens in all of this land I am sure there are many that are just as grand

But I am in this one amongst the setting dapple rotting peacefully alone like the early apple

(It seems early to me)

[espressoandsnow]

Beware, dead end.

It’s All Hallow’s Eve and all hell has broke loose. There’s a lump in my throat and a neck in my noose.

The lone-star shines sharp through the mist. An owl hoot-howls as I firm-form a fist.

The wind whispers spooky-sweet nothings through holey hedge-rows.

The low rumbling of a train comes, and comes,      and comes             and goes.

The church-bell chimes,                  eleven times.

- God knows I hope to see the witching hour,   but I’ve seen a ghost tonight and this path I walk leads nowhere.

[espressoandsnow]

🎃

[espressoandsnow]

Let’s get spoopy 👻

[espressoandsnow]

Her name is

She has already told me of some of the things with which she is enamored.

She has already told me of some of the ways in which she likes to be held.

My mind races as it traces through the things that I yearn; as it faces the things about her I am yet to learn;

from the small of her back, to the breadth of her feeling; the warmth of her skin, the shape of her breathing;

the look in her eyes, the corners of her lips; as we tip over the edge, into the abyss;

a birthmark, a touch, a word, a motion; I cannot pretend I haven't honoured the notion -

But I have told her such, I have expressed my desires; she knows of my proclivity for playing with fires -

For I am longing to know, as she sets me ablaze; the way that she'll glow

as together

we burn.

[espressoandsnow]

Beware, dead end.

It’s All Hallow’s Eve and all hell has broke loose. There’s a lump in my throat and a neck in my noose.

The lone-star shines sharp through the mist. An owl hoot-howls as I firm-form a fist.

The wind whispers spooky-sweet nothings through holey hedge-rows.

The low rumbling of a train comes, and comes,      and comes             and goes.

The church-bell chimes,                  eleven times.

- God knows I hope to see the witching hour,   but I’ve seen a ghost tonight and this path I walk leads nowhere.

[espressoandsnow]

🎃

[espressoandsnow]

Let’s get spoopy 👻

[espressoandsnow]

Sometimes it’s not that they aren’t the same person any more, it’s that they never became the person you thought they could be.

J Edward

[espressoandsnow]

falling for may (reprise)

sat by the fire tired but talking fond bout flames hopes and no aims

knew faces flashed across rolling strings cycles and singing benches and blasts

a tap on the small a voice from the past can't believe you thought our night wouldn't last

of course i recall four years have elapsed but that night may, still be the night of my life

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - - - - - - - - -

     little did i know          what that night means to us      looking back now          is no need to make a fuss

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Falling for May in Late August (original poem)

[espressoandsnow]

borrowed light

you got back into bed and we held each other again - the warmth of your body set mine on fire, your breath gently brushed my cheek and my hand gently pressed against yours; your hair slipped between my fingers and my whole body was yearning to kiss you.

i could feel the tension as your breathing changed and i knew that part of you wanted me to, but i couldn't.

i didn't cross that line; a line which hadn't been there before but which signified our change.

we lay there perfectly entwined and i felt your breathing change once more as you fell away from me into slumber.

i lay awake a while longer in a bittersweet bliss - everything i wanted was right there with me in that one long moment.

everything i'd ever longed for i held in my arms and yet it was ephemeral and i knew;

the weight of you was a comfort that would only be there until the light filled the room.

[espressoandsnow]

Winter is coming, and I’m getting excited.

All these little signs, 
Telling me it’s almost time.

The fervor of a toasty towel, 
Straight from the radiator.

The nights are drawing in, And the cold is coming later.

Curling up on the couch, To watch my favourite shows.

Wrapping up in blankets, Wearing winter clothes.

Choosing cherished jumpers, Pulling on the proper coat.

The chill of morning mist At the back of my throat.

The smell of the damp air, Laced with burning wood.

Stepping out into the cold And putting up my hood.

So come on darling wait with me, To stroll down winter’s lane.

To hold my hand, glove in glove, Through wind and snow and rain.

We will wander virgin fields, When the weather comes.

We will breathe the same cool breeze, Deep down into our lungs.

Together we can fair the bleak, Where alone our hearts would splinter.

So wrap me up and keep me warm; Be my warmth this winter.

[espressoandsnow]

It’s that time of year again! - espressoandsnow

[espressoandsnow]

And again! - espressoandsnow

[espressoandsnow]

what i want

when i think back way back to when I was with her years ago 

there was a time when her whole damn world was aglow

i was her everything i meant the world  to her

she loved me  more than the universe her love was a blur

it didn't last and i can't remember exactly how long  that time went on

it was  the greatest time  of my life the greatest thing that went wrong

since then i’ve said to myself many times i’m a mess

i don't really know  what I want but that’s not true  i confess

really what i want i wanted it then

i want it here i want it now i want it again

it’s all i've ever really wanted i think i’ve always known

i want the kind of devotion  that i once was shown

and now  there is you and my mind running wild

for a while I have been lost for a moment beguiled

you’ve been nothing  but honest you’ve done nothing wrong

you didn’t promise me a thing you were clear all along

i love who you are and the things that you do

but i don’t think i’ll ever get what i want from you

[espressoandsnow]

2011

There hasn’t been a time  where I felt closer to heaven than the long hot summer of twenty eleven 

[espressoandsnow]

That’s nice

I no longer let myself truly accept

the nice things said to me

by the people I love

(or the ones I think I could)

it is not that I think

they are lying to me

no

it is that they are

lying to themselves

or they are just blissfully naive

thoughts come to them and

they feel the need

they are oblivious to

the fact that these thoughts

that they are compelled

to mention

from the bottom of their hearts

with the best of intention

they may not truly mean them

forever and absolutely

for always

and acutely

they may mean them right now

they may mean what they say

they may think that they

will forever feel this way

nothing could possibly

change how they feel

nothing at all

nothing's so real

they truly care for me too

and while that might be true

they are not aware

that these affections they voice

may not always be there

may evanesce with no choice

but I have been a guardian

of eulogies and sweet nothings

I have held them so dear

I have had them ripped through my cage

through the bars

from ear to ear

so I no longer let myself think

of the nice things said to me

by the people I love

(or the ones I think I could)

as more than fleeting

more than honeyed

more than words

I appreciate their value

in the simplest of terms

I no longer grasp at them

like they are icebergs

I try really hard

not to hold on

like they're the most important thing

like they'll never be gone

and I take more care

of the things that I say

to the people who love me

(and the ones I think could)

because I know of the power

with which they can be told

I know the power

that my words can hold

well actually

not the words

but the voids they can leave

when they've faded

nothing takes their place

and there's nothing left

but to bereave

[espressoandsnow]

[espressoandsnow]

Sundays are shitty (because they make me reflect)

It’s always been my belief that love comes from within - that you have to love yourself before you can truly love someone else. Right now I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, what I am or what I want. It feels like everything I do these days is just a way of escaping from reality in some way. 

I drink and I take drugs and I love the way that it makes me feel; but I look at other people and they don’t need that, their happiness comes from the simple things. 

I used to be like that - but now all I ever seem to do is chase the next high, live for the next weekend, look for the next escape - with no purpose or end goal. That’s the thing that upsets me, the lack of purpose. 

There’s nothing wrong with doing those things in balance with everything else. They make good memories. But I just seem to do them to pass the time and fill the gaps. Even things like the music I listen to and the TV shows I watch are a way of getting away from real life by submerging myself in other people’s stories.

I’m very careful about saying “I’m lonely” because the truth is I enjoy my own company and I don’t need anyone else to be happy and content. But I’ve realised that there is an ocean of difference between being content and being as happy as I want to be.

I’ve been alone and single and happy with who I am and what I’m doing and where I’m going before - and I’ve loved myself - and that led to great things. I can pinpoint a time in my life when happiness found me - and that was it. 

I thought I was getting back to that place; I thought I was making progress, but right now I feel like I’m in no fit state to love anybody. I don’t even know if I’ll ever be capable of a love as strong and pure as I’ve experienced in the past, or even if I want it. 

I guess I know deep down that I am capable and I do want it, I just don’t want to pin all my hopes on that for fear of getting hurt or disappointed. But then, what else do I live for? I feel empty and alone in a way that I hate. 

I don’t hate myself, but I don’t love myself as much as I should.

I need to work on that.

[espressoandsnow]

Still this.

[espressoandsnow]

Aangel

Through all those long late night talks you lay next to me so close, keeping the werewolves and ghosts from my pillow with care; but you were not really there, you were not really there.

- you were there more than you knew

Oh maybe werewolves and ghosts were the most we could be - since the hunting and haunting were enough - set you free; but you were not really there, you were not there for me.

- you were there more than you knew

But you are here for me now when I need you the most; ghosts are glooming at my door you sharpen up your claws - and I know all I can do, is be there for you.

- and I will be there for you

[espressoandsnow]

Beware, dead end.

It’s All Hallow’s Eve and all hell has broke loose. There’s a lump in my throat and a neck in my noose.

The lone-star shines sharp through the mist. An owl hoot-howls as I firm-form a fist.

The wind whispers spooky-sweet nothings through holey hedge-rows.

The low rumbling of a train comes, and comes,      and comes             and goes.

The church-bell chimes,                  eleven times.

- God knows I hope to see the witching hour,   but I’ve seen a ghost tonight and this path I walk leads nowhere.

[espressoandsnow]

🎃