Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

My Unspoken Words

And I’m banking on your capacity to read my mind and know how I feel about you.

I can’t read a mind to save myself and I don’t believe that telepathy is true.

But your response to what’s on my mind will determine how happy I’ll be.

How has this notion that you must be able to read my mind conceived?

It’s because I love you and I think you should know that’s true

And if you don’t then it’s not fate and we’re not meant to be.

Because maybe there’s a truer love to be found if I don’t make it with you,

And maybe they’ll read my mind and see my love for them is true.

But maybe I will get to that point in life and find that just like you,

They too could not read my mind, and thus my lunatic ideas would mean we’re through.

And then, all over again I’d start the wait,

In search for a love, I’d hope and pray that this time it’s not too late.

I’d be older and wiser and realise that I should have spoken my mind

Because there were words written on my heart to which you were faultlessly blind.


And thereafter, whatever happens I will go on living a regretful existence

But if I could wish for and be granted another life I would not bear such resistance.

Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

In The Pages

Read it from the pages, my love, and be assured,
That in the prose where noone knows yet what’s next to come,
The mystery, behind those words, behold all the cures,
Slowly. Slowly. Like a rose it all unfolds at once.

But if you pause or look away you might just miss the bunce.
I love you, said in writing can never withhold le cœur.
Perhaps not grand, direct or clear but certainly’s the sum,
So read on in the pages, my love, and be allured.

Creative Writing, Poetry

Love is?

Love is patient
Love is kind
Love is blatant
Love is blind

Love is dated
It’s in the air
Love is sacred
Love is fair

Love is yours
Love is mine
Love is giving
Of your time

Love is telling
Love is divine
Love is of spirit
Love is a lie

Love is for the broken
Love is for the blessed
Love will triumph
Every single test

Love comes at first sight
It is all of last night
Love is for the moment
Love is for life

Love is costly
Love is free
Love is exclusive
It isn’t for me

Love is elusive
A mystery
It’s undefined

Love is maternal
Love is obliged

Love is eternal
It is The Sacrifice.

Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

Tears of an insomniac

I cry through stinging eyes as I recount the days of life.
Blood shot,
And full of things that expand my head, my heart…
I sniff back the tears that are as cold as ice,
I sat myself here and I will not allow the self pity start.

Deal with the consequences you are the cause of them,
I say,
You said you want to be free of men,
But he, he wasn’t just a man. To you he was more than that.

I pour fourth this monologue night after night,
Releasing tears, tears of an insomniac.

Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

Too Late

He held me tight, but for too long,
Held me just right, it was so wrong.
The time was way off, he was too late, or maybe he was early. He was definitely late.

He is the man I long for in this moment. He was the man of my mind, the man of my dreams, the companion of my soul, the essence of my being. Maybe I’m being a little extreme but these are the thoughts he gives to me. I won’t have him though, I know that now.

And do you hear my heart? Can you hear it scream?
He is the love of my past, and my lover at last. But it won’t last. No, it won’t last.

Creative Writing, Flash Fiction

Love – take it back

She pleaded with it, sought it for all that she believed it was. Love, she called it as she pleaded it would once again take back the spotlight. Don’t fade into the background, be profound again.

She’d not had much luck staying focused and she was easily numbed. But she didn’t believe it was luck that freed her to feel everything. She believed it was a law, a force an energy. Love, she called it.

She said it was what made her. It was the thing that made her her and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to go on in life without it. So she sought right down into the depths.

The thing is, she didn’t realise that with every breath she had exactly what she was looking for, but because she set her gaze beyond this she lost it.