They told you home is two eyes and a beating heart.
Tell me why you never felt at home within yourself?
Scrub the regret and disappointments away,
Clear out the mess from your soul,
Dust off the shame from the shelves of your mind.
You are coming home.
You are coming to yourself.
Dear reader who is very loyal and patient,
I will write more this year. Not only because my job has so much free time or because I have learned that inspiration is all about perspective. No. Not that. I will write more because stories need to be told.
Did they not tell you that your sleeves were made for buttons and cufflinks, not hearts?
Did you tell them you are tired? How you lost yourself only to find yourself weeping softly into your pillow?
Did they not tell you that the light at the end of the tunnel is just a mirror reflecting you?
What would you tell 20 year old you?
What would you say to 40 year old you?
I hope you find love.
A love that makes you look at the half moon and tell it stories about your other half.
A love that makes you understand that chemistry is a chain reaction; a smile that makes your heart beat faster, a touch that sets your body ablaze.
A love like water; baptising your hurt away, purifying your soul.
I hope you find a love that stays.
10 years ago I met a guy, we created our own version of heaven but then he left and being in heaven alone felt a lot like hell.
So 9 times like a cat I tried to bring our love back to life. But he always chose her.
Her with a body shaped like an 8 and some days I don’t blame him. Really.
But the heartbreak I felt then should be listed as one of the 7 wonders of the world. Heck it pales them.
He said “I was young, I didn’t know better”
I said even 6 year olds know how to say sorry.
He said it and looked at me expectantly like he deserved 5 gold stars.
All I really wanted to hear was that 4 letter word especially when its part of that over used 3 word phrase but like always it didn’t come.
Its 2 a.m. and instead of sleeping I am trying to convince myself he is not my the 1. And I’m failing miserably.
I apologise truly for the silence. Once again I find my thoughts reaching a dead end in the maze that’s my mind. So here is an incomplete poem which I don’t know how to end.
I am leaves in autumn every time I see your face,
I’m still turning my demons into angels in lace
Or dust in a chalice.
I don’t know where I went wrong my love
Sometime between sixteen and twenty five
I lost my way, lost my drive.