"You"

Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head.
so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name,
like tears, soft, salt, on my lips, the sound of its bright syllables
like a charm, like a spell.

Falling in love
is glamorous hell: the crouched, parched heart
like a tiger, ready to kill; a flame’s fierce licks under the skin.
into my life, larger than life, you strolled in.

I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine,
in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze,
staring back from anyone’s face, from the shape of a cloud,
from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at me

as I open the bedroom door. The curtains stir. There you are
on the bed, like gift, like a touchable dream. 

by Carol Ann Duffy.

You know

I love you so.

Crush

Faintest snow keeps falling.
Hands around your waist, nameless, standing cold.
Like a breath. Like a breath.
Take in restraint like a breath.
My lungs are so numb from holding back.
Walk close to the fence. Feel it hit your clothes.
Turn and smile nice.....
Smile say goodnight, say goodnight.
In a breath.
In a breath.

Simple discourse
cuts you clean in half.

Tiptoes

"You're charming

As a war-time soldier,

fell straight out of a black and white film;

My nostalgic ideal. Guarded

as a rabbit, clandestine waxwork of a cloak and

Dagger heart,

Buried deep. Winking like a locket, snapped tight

Shut in your chest. You sparkle like gold rust.

Pale white as snow, disappearing like a

soft summer wind. You snake

circles round me like smoke.

Peat eyes.

You're sombre as six foot down goes.

Serene as a white swan

on a sheet of stained glass.

Sharp as bruised cherries; my smart nettle sting.

Unconcerned with the cut-throat ways

of so many now. Soft and caring

quietly.

You deal in figures.

Decimals, statistics,

truths.

Wear your freckles

speckled like a useless map; Guiding my

way. I try to unravel your straight

delphic features cut from hard white.

You wear your easy patience like a mask.

I’ll join the dots,

and tiptoe.

Maybe for them,

you could be any other doe.

To me

you

twinkle,

like crushed glass."

a poem I wrote.

Sigh no more.

Love that will not betray you,
dismay or enslave you;
It will set you free.

Lover of things

Won't you agree that the winter could bring the darkest spring?



Just because I'm going to see them tomorrow,
and I already know they are going to be amazing.

Don't lose yourself.

Don't let yourself be lost.