I - The Night We Met It was the tail end of summer we were young and had no idea what we were in for. I saw you and tried to touch forever; in hindsight I should have bottled the August night sky for us to keep and breathe on the days the air between … Continue reading Quartet
My bones feel rigid like I’m living with rigor mortis, depression’s equivalent of arthritis. There’s nothing the doctor can prescribe; sunshine cannot be packaged and nor can your smile so I guess I’ll just wait in my heaviness. This opaque silence where nothing can relieve the nothingness I feel whenever you leave. © … Continue reading Rigid
Little acts of braveryEvery day this week, thus far, I have opened the curtains in every room. You would be right in thinking this is a metaphor for letting the light in. It is similar to polishing ageing ornaments or dusting away the cobwebs. Whenever Dee arrives, I hide. I close every curtain, put my … Continue reading The Dee Diaries #1
A gloomy morning walk, 8am without sunrise and I find myself in a graveyard paying respects to strangers; thankful there is no one here I knew or loved. Those graveyards are elsewhere and lack paths to line the headstones. In some places it is overgrown and uneven - an endless reminder the dead rest beneath … Continue reading 8am without sunrise
We were star-crossed and then committed. We were children and then adults dressed in ill fitting clothes and promises. We were in love always away from home and I soon learned affection of this ilk was unsustainable because it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to love you in every other place except here. © Kristiana … Continue reading Here
It has been years since we met, decades since we last touched each other's lives with a smile. Time has been cruel, convincing me you were never there at all. A figment of a twelve year old imagination; lonely amongst the bookshelves and films, fixated on wheat fields and sunsets. You were beautiful … Continue reading Ghost Boy
In darkness shrouded in midnight the bed beneath my shattered bones doubles in size, California wide. Nyx chills the sheets with her silver touch, waves of ice I curl my fists into as Hypnos fails to wrap me in arms of warmth and slumber. I feel small and this cavern feels empty. I am nothing … Continue reading Resting Place
Infatuated would have been an understatement. I was punch drunk, I wanna have your babies and run away into the sunset with you. I was let’s elope in Vegas and keep it a secret; let me be the Tibetan monk living in your heart translating every sigh and whisper into scripture. I was … Continue reading Infatuated
I can hear a flock of seagulls again and they remind me of you. I’ve written about this before. About how I don’t live close enough to the sea so why do our beach memories haunt me? I’ve tried to be better at this, to miss you less. I’ve tried not to fill every page … Continue reading Goodnight
I used to believe in abracadabra magic; white rabbits from hats, ribbons from shirt sleeves, coins from behind my ear, children’s party make believe; dragons and princesses, tall towers and treehouses, and the way the wind blows whispers when you are small and slight with dreams dripping on your brow and in the crooks of … Continue reading Whirligig
