The Bakery Aisle

You’re in the supermarket on a cold winters day.

You’re minding your own business, pushing your trolley and checking items off your list when your nose twitches at the smell of freshly baked bread. Tempted, you wander over to the bakery.

Your stomach grumbles as you peruse the counter. Your eyes widen as they drink in the glorious delights on offer. Loaves, rolls, buns, cakes, pastries, biscuits, tarts: each as tantalising as the next. After much internal deliberation you finally decide which one to buy.

A chocolate eclair.

You signal your selection to the assistant who hands you your prize in a cardboard box, neatly tied with ribbon. You carefully place the box at the far end of your trolley, safely stowed away from heavier household goods that might roll around and crush it.

You finish the rest of your shopping a little quicker now, somehow lighter of step, and stride with purpose to the checkout.

You hastily pack and pick up your shopping bags but you grip the box tightly in your hand, carrying it safely all the way out to your car.

You drive along with the box calling to you, provocatively, on the passenger seat. You glance over every few minutes, stretching out a protective hand and smiling in anticipation.

You get home and unpack your shopping whilst waiting, impatiently, for the kettle to boil. The box consumes your thoughts as you drum your fingers on the counter top, and your excitement continues to build.

You sit down in your favourite chair and make yourself comfortable. You tenderly untie the ribbon and lift the lid of the box. You lick your lips as your heart quickens and you finally take a bite of the glistening chocolate eclair.

You begin to realise, as you chew, that it doesn’t taste as good as you thought it would.

The cream is artificial and bland. The pastry is soggy and sticks to your cheeks. The chocolate is saccharine and hurts your teeth.

Disappointed, you put the remaining piece of the chocolate eclair back into the box, close the lid and re-tie the ribbon. You throw the box in the bin without a care in the world.

And that’s what love is like.

Being lured in by the chocolate eclair when, all along, you really should have picked the strawberry tart.

(Originally Posted 07.03.2019)

 

Recording

It’s like living in a film

Where someone else has pressed Play

You are unable to Rewind

And you cannot hit Pause

To Fast Forward is inconceivable

As all you want to do is Stop

And Eject

(Originally Posted 17.05.2019)

Robert

Your
melancholic
madness
dances
rings
around
my
heart

As
you
smudge
your
eyes
with
kohl

And
slash
your
lips
with
crimson

The Jumble Sale

I rummage around inside my head as I search for what to say

But the silence means all you hear is that I don’t want you to stay

I rummage around inside my head as I look down to the floor

But the silence means all you hear is that I don’t love you anymore

What is painfully sad for both of us is that neither of these things are true

But this jumble sale of words in my head prevents me from being honest with you

The Tempest

I don’t care for sun
I don’t care for rain
What I need is thunder
So that I can breathe again

I Already Know

I already
know I’m
a piece
of shit

I don’t
need you
to remind
me of it

I already
know I’m
a bitter
old crone

I don’t need
you pointing
out that I’ll
forever be alone

I already
know my
cuts are
too deep

I don’t
need you
to watch
them weep

I already
know that
I’m dead
inside

I don’t need
you telling me
there’s nowhere
left to hide

The Time Waster

I cannot
believe
after all
this time
I’m still
stuck in
your trap.

Quietly
putting up
with your
bullshit and
listening
to all
your crap.

If I have
to spend one
more minute
with you
I think
that I’ll
be sick.

Never
before
have I
wasted my
time on
such an
arrogant
little prick.

The Struggle

When you see me, you see the finished article.

Washed, dressed, hair in place, make up on and a smile on my face.

But you don’t see what it takes to get there.

You don’t see me trying to muster the strength to open my eyes in the morning.

You don’t see me forcing my weary bones out of bed.

You don’t see me berating myself as I sob in the shower.

You don’t see me looking in the mirror as I question whether or not today is the day.

You don’t see me wracked with indecision on what to wear.

You don’t see me soothing my pain as I twist and pull out my hair.

You don’t see me apply make up in the hope it makes me disappear.

You don’t see me riddled with anxiety as I lurk in the doorway.

You don’t see me breathing deeply before finally pushing open the office door.

When you see me, you see the finished article.

But just because you don’t see the struggle, doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.

Just because you see me smile, it doesn’t mean it’s real.

How I look, is not how I feel.

Dwelling

Pain helps, momentarily.

It provides a fleeting relief.

Then the numbness returns.

And living inside this emotionless abyss, continues.

The Office

Momentory conversations

With temporary people

Sharing fleeting emotions

Providing non-permanent relief

The Deep

Do you think
we’ll make it
out alive,
she asked,
hoping for
the truth.

I’m sure
we’ll be fine,
he said,
with all the
bluster and
naivety of youth.

At Her Majesty’s Pleasure

You were keen to kidnap my kindness
and you were happy when you hijacked my heart.

You smiled when you stole my soul
and you laughed when you looted my life.

So why is it me that has been sentenced to life in this prison?

While you’re walking around out there scot-free?

Push And Pull

Love me
or
loathe me
you’ll
never
escape me
so why
would you
even try?

Kiss me
or
kill me
you’ll
always
want me
so there’s
no use
in saying
goodbye.

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑