You were a loving blanket; now I’m cold.
A safe haven; a bittersweet perfume.
As you sleep peacefully, the leaves weep gold.

But we lie awake. Haunted by your soul.
Determined mind. Kind wise eyes, sky-blue.
You were a loving blanket; now I’m cold.

I wish to speak to sing to scream of all,
The vivid jewel-bright memories of you.
As you sleep peacefully, the leaves weep gold.

Dogs, Books our sacred nooks whisper and wall-
Ow. Woebegone. Like weeping willows grew.
You were a loving blanket; now I’m cold.

Patient papery hands held mine, I told
The Secret Garden the last time, subdued.
As you sleep peacefully, the leaves weep gold.

You were a loving blanket; now I’m cold.
As you sleep peacefully, the leaves weep gold.
You arrived, survive, alive in them all.
Their laughter; fleeting eternity blooms.

I’ve known hunger:
I wanted to disappear like a ghost, so I almost became one.
I’ve known hunger, the orgasmic high of fucking Death, everything in slow motion, even my heart, and the pain fades away beneath blurry black dots.
I was a member of a secret army, encouraging each other to die.
I was a starving dog with an abusive owner, but my mind was the owner.
I looked with cerulean sunken eyes, like sunken ships, hiding from pain in deep blue depths.
I heard my parents peep, and creep into my room weep as I fell into a sleep so deep, I may never awake; I’ve seen protruding bones that we worshipped in secret like a forbidden religion.
I’ve known hunger:
dizzy, numb hunger.
I wanted to disappear like a ghost, so I almost became one.

Perpetual winter haunted by summer.
My lover Life kisses crimson – a rose.
Your ivy; I am a shorn sunflower.

You murdered the other men. Like Slaughtered
silver fir, sparkling silence like fresh snow.
Perpetual winter haunted by summer.

Suffocated. Strangled. Mangled. I blur
Death and Life. Love and Loss. Your tendrils grow.
Your ivy; I’m a shorn sunflower.

Death kisses then kills me, but your colder,
like a dead rock. I’m the river that flows.
Perpetual winter haunted by summer.

Velveteen leaves caress me; you whisper
in my ear, ‘Just trust me.’ But my leaves broke.
Your ivy; I’m a shorn sunflower.

I should write summer will come but, reader,
no lies but empty full truths I disclose.
Perpetual winter haunted by summer.
Your ivy; I’m a shorn sunflower.

I dreamed of more than this lacklustre life,
lofty Hollywood plans instead of strife.
City lights like stolen stars and champagne,
I desired to be loved from a small age.
Imprisoned me in domesticity,
like plucking a butterfly’s wings, you trapped me.
Like a sunset, my face fades day
by day. I remember trips to the ballet,
opera, museums, my glamorous world
before these brats were born. I’m just a girl
who was lusted by many but loved by
none. Until I met you; I wore a mask
mesmerising I was, and we danced.
I let the mask slip, so no one ever
loved me. The cowardly clever,
calculating con artist is alone.
Groan. Moan, bones ache. Old age
approaches. The throne
of youth collapses beneath me. I
disintegrate into nothing. The lies,
I tell myself my only jewels. For you
are a failure who cannot provide; you,
have made me a slave when I was like
a queen. Men loyal servants, Ghostlike,
I am now. Love is idiotic, you fool!
Money, success, fame are treasured. You fuel
the facinorous fatal flames, I blame
you. Claim you. Hate you. And proclaim
you as my property. If you love her
or any other. Please expect murder.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who
had bubble-gum hair, and she loved his blue-
green eyes. I felt enveloped by their love,
platonically, just like the soothing sun.
Bang. Smash. Weep. Crash. Tears on eyelash. Subdued.
A war, a storm, I mourned the deaths, they blew
out the sun’s fire, once desire; above,
a nefarious night. Nascent. Their love.

Then came a man with the same name,
yet for her the never-ending night remained,
a fleeting fleeing fallen forlorn star.
‘I just want to die,’ she cried at the bar,
sang sad songs on her guitar, same
tragic childhoods. Wish I could proclaim
I burned and yearned for him, the car
drive home, ‘free tomorrow?’ I felt fire

and forbidden flames flare crimson, and I
went in his car, ‘You look nice today,’ I
sat in a dark cinema, smelt popcorn
and Maltesers, his arm brushed past mine, warm.
Like whispering children in libraries, I
saw his emerald eyes just inches from mine.
Near crash. Expecting angry thunderstorms,
he was gentle, a spark of love was born.

Brunch and browsing books, chess and then sushi,
forgotten jumpers. ‘Are you cold?’ then he,
hugged me, and more comforting than the most,
cuddly cosy coat; ‘Is this okay?’ Oh,
What should I say? ‘Yes.’ First mistake. He
squeezed me, but then the guilt consumed me.
Meets my mum. Charms my dog. ‘We should go
to the lighthouse.’ Tripping on twigs we go

past plaques: ‘my friend who died, it’s his,’ he said.
Sat on damp grass. Gazed at his eyes. Said
nothing and everything with a kiss, I
felt goose bumps. Shivers. Quivers. Up my spine.
‘That was unexpected,’ smiling, he said.
‘Should we ask for permission?’ ‘No,’ he said.
The secret was born like a new moon. I
was terrified, but felt alive, divine.

Fast car rides, hand on my thigh, and kissing
at traffic lights, ‘I like danger;’ speeding,
on a high. And then sneaking into
my bedroom, climbing the window, soon
hand on your mouth, we’re silently laughing.
And you hold me. You hold me. Hearts beating.
The weekends dissolved, perfect movie to
this. I’m an actress, I cannot kiss you.

A ghostly apparition with emeraldine eyes,
He haunts my days and my nights.
Bang. Crash. The window is wide open,
the wind caresses me like a midnight ocean breeze.
He knocks over the chess pieces with a howling shriek,
Scream: I am the white queen, and I weep.
The bewitching, bodacious black queen is the one you seek.
Although the tears flow, she is friend, not foe, she glows for another beau.
I spin. I spin. I spin.
Like a dancer, but all I hear is loud silence that overflows.
The audience cannot be dead if it was never alive,
The ivory and ebony swan; twin reflections intertwined.
Like a mirror, cracked; make a mask, paint it black.

Her
laughter
is golden daylight,
not dappled – one without
shadows or stipes. Like a robin, she chatters.
Chirp. Chirp. A musical sibilance of the wind in the
trees leaves. She’s free, enigmatic, magnetic – what’s not
to like? Do not forget the burn of the very bright. An icy sun.
A blazing moon. Soon - the dusky dawn will yawn its rearing head
Like a fantastical dragon, a beast within. Twilight is lilacs, peony pinks and
Pastels a soft harshness in this hour. The sky flowers, but you devour us
whole. I cower like a dying flower on the floor. You picked our
precious petals, like a child stamp on snails for fun.
We only flourish in
the sun.
The
glass is crimson,
cruel captious - she captured him.
She rules this domain with a duel every night,
a ruby jewel on her lips, and snarky quips. If life’s
a stage the curtain has dropped. Yet, she is Medea, and
I am the terrorized tranquil audience. ‘It helps with the emptiness,’
she said. As the entire house bled. Painted the walls blood red.
Every night I feel dead, and every morning, I am born again.
The ghostly gibbous moon hangs low; your two moods the
moon and the sun. Like a coin. Silver. A sliver of a soul
covered me, smothered me in clouds so
loud I could not think over the rage
and wrath of your storm.