musings and mutterings

I'm playing around with poetry 

[suncrossedpoetry]

two minute dream

I had a hundred words, bottled in a chest  waiting to be said, and yet  the only ones that came to were  ‘kiss me’. Your face was so close to mine that your breath fogged my glowing cheeks and your eyes were next to mine, pupils wider than the gates of Heaven I said ‘kiss me’, the demand to release me  from the purgatory we were  forcing ourselves to live in.  The moment, we both realised,  was waiting to be filled and so I stuffed two words in; ‘kiss me’, said in a voice that lost  all recognisable features in its hoarse, half-whispered, half-whined state. ‘kiss me’ I begged, and you did. 

[suncrossedpoetry]

biology

my eyes must betray me,  they spread to invite you in,  deep, dark windows hoping to capture the whole of you.  can you see yourself reflected? framed in adoration and desire. 

[suncrossedpoetry]

backwards walk

I lie behind you,  submerged in calendar pages, presented through the rearview mirror, preserved in ink on a waterlogged wall gazing down on you,  yet firmly in the past.  Behind you, yet beside.  Behind you, being dragged.  My heels firmly planted in the dirt. Walk backwards,  return to me, or take my hand and pull me to you.  You don’t look right from behind.  I lie behind you,  turn around and see the dead.  I am easily revived.  Turn around,  walk forwards,  I still wait ahead. 

[suncrossedpoetry]

the abbey

You are not so beautiful on this final day, Smudged by cloud and infected by cold. The air reeks from the lake, Filled with recent rains and the stench of geese Descending over the grounds like fog. Your flag falls limp, with no wind to lift her, Reflecting the staleness on my tongue That fights against the freshness of the day. I won’t remember you like this, My head will paint you with the First days of spring as I saw you first. I didn’t know you then as I do now, You were blackened by the cold sun, A vast giant on the skyline, The glowing sky peering through Your broken window face. Autumn never looked as golden As when bouncing off your leaves. It felt like it lasted forever too, When driving towards you, peppered In golds and fallow, a blanket warm and comforting in the woodland hide. I can’t say I miss you yet, But on Sunday, when our weekly meeting is missed, I shall feel your shadow And your beauty shall hit me like that first day.

[suncrossedpoetry]

contemplation

Do I love you? Let’s work through the word  and see if it dances to life between you and I. I want to infiltrate you, enter your life on every level, see you as you are when all the lights are low. I want to hear your pleas and praises and feel your  lasting grasp on me. I want to feel the heat  from you within me. I need to hear your logic  as you talk of current affairs and see the world from your  questioning eyes once more. I want to hear your laugh, laugh with me once again. I could believe that love is born from the low chuckle you have. And in those weeks,          however short, where you are far from me, I smell your cologne and feel your warmth as if you’re beside of me. Maybe this is friendship and the tussels in the dark  are confusing feelings of attachment  that are in no way close to love. Love is such a broadened term which spreads wider everyday  as my world expands  and more faces feature and I love them in a range of ways. Yet I question if I love you, though I know I feel you more.  Why does this word escape you? I know you dont love me, so is it the fear of being  unrecieved that makes the word stray far?  Yes, though I’m still unsure  of my heart and its allegiance,  you mean more to me than  I would like to admit  and surely more than I to you.

[suncrossedpoetry]

today I miss

Today it’s the smirk that came with a scrunch in your nose as you refuse to admit that I am actually funny. The first day it was opening the door to your smile, or the  habit you had of throwing rocks at my window  to let me know that you were here to help me sleep.  On Tuesday it was the the tangle of my fingers  in the hot palm of your hand as we walked.  Yesterday I could almost feel your weight in my bed, and in the dawn on my sleep  I allowed myself to believe that you were there. I have missed waking up to streams  of words and jokes and lines sent between the hours of one and nine  in the morning as you worked whilst I slept. I would go back and rouse myself,  to make sure I could read every sentence twice,  and coax even more from you.  It was once, and it breaks my heart that the once never reoccured, That we made a dinner together,  though we were miles apart when we started. I think you caught two buses to get to me then. Eighteen months of moments, that I can’t remember all of,  I wish I had preserved them all, kept them pressed for nights like this,  when I dredge the silt of my soul for more tender time with you. Today I miss you.  I can’t tell you what it is that I miss most.  Just the feeling of belonging to and with you. Tomorrow may reveal that I do not need you,  But tonight and today I’ll feel you in every moment that  we should have shared and now never will.  Or we may, but not the same.

[suncrossedpoetry]

potter and painter

You'd be a potter Like in that old cheesy flick But instead of that messy lump of clay You'd be crafting me

Id own a bookshop And fill all the shelves with prose But instead of your eyes turned to paper Theyd follow me

You'd be a painter Covered in splashes of ultramarine But instead of fashioning the colours I'd be your muse

We'd have an orchard And drink all the fallen apple's juice But instead of being rotten spoils They'd taste sweet

[suncrossedpoetry]

definition of love

Your definition of love,  as you told me many months ago, is one of a photo finish race where you  smile sweetly at each other as you stride over the line. But I don't know how close we are to that. What I do know is that my eyes scanned for you  those initial weeks of proximity and since the moment you burst into  my daily routine and thoughts I have not felt as full as when you are by my side and in my hand. The second word of every touch of tongue to teeth is your name, I have your smile framed on my door, so that  every day begins with your infectious joy. I’ll never admit it to you, another in a line of hidden adorations,  but comedy shows haven’t been the same since i tuned into your wavelength. I trace your lines and feel your bone, the hardness under soft skin, and heat burns me and leaves more room for you. Your definition of love is to be in love together, my definition of love is you.

[suncrossedpoetry]

unspoken

Tightening, whitening, Stretching the seal until It cannot lay flat in The same way again, The pulsating mass rebels Against its confinement and Demands to see itself free.

Pressing, suppressing, Fighting the force until I cannot lay still tonight And find sleep again, I bottle the rising tension Against my throat that Demands to be known.

Another chance to release The devil inside that has Haunted my thoughts And jaded my days, A tangle of terror and joy And fear, pushing, Pushing, pushing my chest.

My tongue fights the Impulse, stronger than that Of the magnetic pull to Touch you again. To love you,

It tricked me to open its cage, It formed there Before your eyes, you know. I'm exposed. Betrayed.

My own heart raveled free, I love you,

Stop! No more, please! The mass of my love,

No! It's not welcome, Not well received, No nurturing care at this birth Of emotion that deserves to be

Smothered Tethered Bound Enclosed Wrapped

Kissed Hugged Fucked

Loved.

[suncrossedpoetry]

spirits

The poltergeist is here again tonight, back in this room with me and though it isn’t of another realm  it’s not of ours either. It’s locked within my head playing the lines of a love story  that I refuse to know. It presses on me every night and keeps the surrender of sleep away. A demon in my skull  that reminds me to fear the past. That keeps the gut-turning horrors  real  and alive. No hot holy water of my eyes  exorcises her away  and insecurity manifests  a constant evening companion. 

[suncrossedpoetry]

city

The city is ours And shopfronts which once held anonymity and no soul  are now tethered truly to ours.

The city is ours,  and the tens of thousands of  bustlings beings busying the streets, but still it is somehow ours alone. 

The city is ours, yes it was once mine but here you are bringing in the light,  making sprawling streets explored, making newer eyes.

The city is ours. It must know that now, It must see the way we rule it and how we turn each stone.

Should Our City fall and these moments become tainted  I’ll know that one day I shall see  the city halls with joy again.

[suncrossedpoetry]

auld reekie

I found a view of Edinburgh,  framed in a glasshouse of heat and skyline, on the top floor of a department store high-rise. Unlike Calton or Arthur’s Seat, there were no panoramic horizons, no jostling cameras, just the sound  of water and Auld Reekie's silhouette through rippling window pane.  That was my angle of the city, hot and glazed in a light shower that was failing to hide to the yellow sun. Yes, my Edinburgh was also  the base of temple-like columns  at the setting of the sun  with fierce winds inviting us to fly, or dappled light on gravestones  with the coffee heat diffusing through card, leaflets carpeting Candlemaker Row and the restless beat of the piper  rattling through the streets we walk to Waverly. But that little view of Edinburgh, discovered on my tip toes after  a sodden day of books and Dean, in a glasshouse of heat and skyline, that was the moment the City claimed my soul like so many others.

[suncrossedpoetry]

weary

I have grown weary, lethargic from retiring the part of my soul designed to love. I have to protect my heart, for another blast to it may take all I have left.  I am withdrawing my love, it has been fighting in vain for too many months now. The stereo plays with my emotions; “I know it wouldn’t come to love,  my heroine pretend” How true, I am a falsity. A projection or a place card, a reminder of what is to come without fulfilling its job.  I am tired from this retraction, from the training of my heart  to love again, and another. I dream to sleep, to pass idle hour on the never ending repeats of your laugh, and scent, and scolding jests. I sleep to dream of you. To live in the moment when  I was enough to make you wonder, wander into my head. 

[suncrossedpoetry]

rose tattoos

Do you remember where those lips have been?  How they marked me that night... My neck still burns from their sting. My back still calls out for your hands. But those lips, they tease me most. I can still feel them, my mouth yearns for them, Wishing to greet them once again. As time passes, their bruises fade  And I miss those rose tattoos. They were the last physical reminder of you. They’d welcome you back,  Should those lips wish to return.

[suncrossedpoetry]

unfinished

Residue gathers between my fingers And I struggle to wipe my palms clean  Like glitter, you stick around me And I can't ignore the stain. I feel unfinished, and you’re no help My pillows prefer your smell to mine. They struggle to let you go. I think, I think again. I can’t stop my racing brain. The hold of the glue which binds you  continues its job unrelenting.

[suncrossedpoetry]

realisation

Those subtle things he did, the moments of understanding silence between breaths and the twists in the night that mirrored each other perfectly.

They enveloped me, these waves of love and I couldn’t quite comprehend the extent, because it had come so suddenly and naturally.

Writing it now makes me smile because in my head I say it all the time; “I love you, and it’s only getting worse” And I know it’s honesty.

I understand it all when he’s here And he understands me and it’s more than anyone else and the need to be known  fills me as much as love. 

I need him more than I could  have ever honestly thought possible that I should and moments spent away  are wasted and gone.

[suncrossedpoetry]

when you think

When you think that no one loves you, Think again my friend For I have loved you more than life  And will now until the end.  As ever since you walked in the room,  The neon lights shone brighter And all the shadows pressing grips Loosened and came lighter. Should you forget about my love And taste the tang of sorrow, Remember I think the world of you. You are the reason for my tomorrow. There is not a day that passes That I don’t thank the stars For pushing me towards you then And shoving loneliness out far.  So when you think that no one loves you  And your brain wishes you ill Remember that I adore you  And that I always will.