A Little Like This

Original Writing

It was like digging your nails into the earth over and over again, and coming up empty every time. Reaching into the core of your soul, and finding nothing to grasp hold of. I could scream his name a thousand times into the twilight, and twenty miles away, all he’d hear is the wailing creatures of the night. His darkness blinded my senses whilst his couldn’t be clearer. The light I gave him couldn’t have shone any brighter. How can one walk away from a person who left footprints, not fucking fingerprints, on your heart? He set me on fire and left me to choke on the smoke, retching on the ashes of our past.

And just like that, he was gone.

Oh, My Love

Original Poetry

Oh, my love,
if ever you feel like stars do not quite
shine bright enough,
or the sea is too deep for you,
or you are suffocating in
the silence around you,
remember me.
For I will risk all I have
to rescue you.
I will paint the moon into the sky,
just to see her reflected in your eyes.
I will help you swim, and I will
keep you afloat even when you tire.
Oh, my love,
remember me.
Remember that.

Predator and Prey

Original Poetry

The setting sun,
the shining stars;
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
A hand on my back,
A stroke of the neck,
A love affair between predator and prey.

What I Think Of, When I Think Of Him

Original Writing

When I think of him, the first thing that comes to mind is the intoxicating sensation of being high. High on life, on love, on him. His lips are something I crave at 8am and at 11.30pm. His touch is something I miss the most in the sun-dazzled haze of a lazy summer’s afternoon. The soft caress of seduction brushing across my lips over and over again, a hand tracing its fingertips up my leg, a smile through the kiss. When I think of his eyes, I think of a soft summer sunset married with hues of honey.  I’m subconsciously aware that I might drown in the ocean of his being, yet I’ll readily dive into the deep despite not quite knowing how to swim. During the day, I want to rip my heart into shreds and watch the little pieces float around me as I look on in despair; at night, I want to put all of those pieces back together, taking no notice of the blood on my hands and the stains on the hem of my skirt. The sweet, dulcet tones of our incessant need for closeness fill the air when he nears me.

This is what I think of when I think of him.

Honey-Dipped Eyes

Original Poetry

When sadness was the sea, you taught me how to swim.
Waves and waves of you now crash into me.
Yet, somehow,
serenity can only be defined by
living in your honey-dipped eyes.
Serenity can only be described
as you.