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Reclamation

She’s  back.

After doing time
without committing a crime.

Changed but
undamaged by her walk
through the fire.

Still smelling of wine and madness.

Her hug, still all or nothing.
Her laughter, straight from her gut.

Wiser and crazier.
She’s back.

To take back what’s rightfully hers.

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Gone before I know it

You’re like a snowflake
on my tongue.
Gone before I know it.

You are like a
ray of hope in hell.
Gone before I know it.

You are never there.
You don’t have time to spare.
You don’t look like you care.

You are like a sudden
summer storm.
Gone before I know it

You are just a
pretty hit and run.
Gone before I know it .


The odd one out

 

You will never fit in,
you crazy thing!

You an unicorn in a cow herd.
A butterfly in a beehive.
A scrabble piece on a chess board.

Their rules you don’t play by.
Their scales can’t measure you.

Don’t be them.

Don’t lose your magic,
Don’t cut off your wings,
Don’t abandon your poetry,
To merely belong.

Learn to enjoy
your own company.

To feel at home with strangers.

To travel halfway around the
world just to be yourself.

Think of it as the price of
being unique.


Gasp

There is nothing
crazy people love
more than acting sane.

It’s an ego thing.
It’s a dare they relish.

Like finding out how
long you can hold your
breath underwater.

I can feel myself turning blue
as I flash my brightest smile
at the depressing fucks across
the gleaming conference tables.

But I am not quitting
anytime soon.

No one can be sane forever.
But I am going for a world record at least.


Mute

Stop talking and
before you know it
there is there is nothing
left to say.

Silence has a way of
seeping in like dry sand
through the cracks in a relationship,
choking off conversation.

Before long,
every sentence
sounds strange.
Every word, unbelievable.

All that is left is just a
shimmering mirage
of misunderstanding.

There have been so many nights
when I have gone to your profile
and stared at the green dot that says
you are online.

I don’t know what to say.

I don’t know where to begin.
I don’t know when we ended.


 All that’s forgotten

My wide-eyed three year old
leans forward on her mother’s lap,
her nose pressed against
the plexiglass window
watching skyscrapers turn
into lego bricks
as our plane climbs
into the clear blue sky.

Her giddy shrieks of
amazement at clouds
at clutching distance
cuts through the
groan of the labouring engines,
make our co-passengers
smile.

All of us adults
try and imagine how
she must be feeling .

But we can’t.

We don’t
remember awe.


Grrr

As evening falls over
over a frantic city
my thoughts snap out
of the tight leash of the day
and leap hungrily towards you
over the glittering skyscrapers.

Suddenly ravenous for your
honey mouth,
your silken laughter,
your porcelain skin.

Your arms from which
the sun borrows its warmth.

You hair that falls like a patch
on one eye, you pirate!
Looter of my peace!

I snarl and growl
in the gathering darkness
sniffing the air for your
maddening scent.

Your taste an itch
on the tip of my
famished tongue
licking the bared fangs of desire.

Come here, you!