No.14

It's not a secret.

It's actually quite plain to see.

There's something we've created, that's just ours, to share, to indulge in, to add to.

I suppose it's like a treasure chest.

In it, we store experiences, thoughts, feelings, jokes, arguments, smells and tastes, touches, songs, people,
and many many nights.

Things that bind us with beautiful threads.

Never too tight,

But not falling loose.

An invisible web

of love,

of being a team,

of being the supporting prop behind each other's enterprises.

Let's keep adding to it.

We might need a bigger box.

No.13

I'm having a useless couple of days.
I feel useless and listless and crap.
Deflated, defeated, down in the dumps,
Oh, life has delivered a slap.

No.12

It's the most beautiful evening.
My room is calm, the summer breeze is flowing in and the city is twinkling.
There's a funny feeling in my tummy that seems to have taken up residence.
It is excited and scared and tremorous and a deep breath in and welling up, fighting to reach the surface..
It is a big slow smile, a secret smile to enjoy for myself.
It's a quiet realisation, a dawning.

Tonight feels full of promise.

Tonight, I am beautiful, like he says.

No.11

Feeling smug

Is a private indulgence

I allow myself

From time to time.




Of course it's true

That no one's ever been

As much in love

As me and you.




And of course you are

My north, my south

My east, my west,

And of all the girls you've known

I will love you best.




And so sometimes

If you are wondering what I'm thinking about..

I will be feeling smug,

And hoping to be caught out.

No.10

Pylon, glitter catching on a wall.

Curled photographs smile from a blu tack gallery.

Every part of mind is taken

chock-full of things.

Inside there is a graceful folding motion

in the dark.

Origami. Translucence.

A dancefloor lighting up in rainbows.

Feet tip-tapping.

The soundtrack is Bjork.

Shapes crease away, disappearing.

They can be found again.

Relax.

You think no longer.

What could possibly be more beautiful.

You think no longer.

No flash of light catching on glitter takes your eye.

Shapes,

Sounds,

Mouth eyes sight 

Body

Thought

Pylon, glitter catching on a wall.

Dissolves, dissolves, dissolves, dissolves, dissolves.

No.9

Night portrait

I could paint you

If I could write something beautiful

It would be yours.

Pencil working in the darkness

Sketching the shape of your even breaths.

They are cello strokes, warm

and soft and vibrato.

No.8

An expanse of inky midnight

Stretches far above.

Beyond the eye,

Beyond human reach.

The darkness punctuated

by brilliant lights,

Ever shining.

For these slim hours

The clouds have broken

And are allowing us

A glimpse of time untold.

I'd like to lay down here,

Spend the night

Just me, silence, and stars.