The light at the end of the tunnel

Blindly wondering
In spiritual darkness
Yet all she ever wanted
Was an uncomplicated happiness


In exchange for love

Battle scars and that tattoo on your left shoulder,

Feel the burden weighing you down

Trudging along towards your souls demise.

Hollow porcelain,

Taking care as you climb that ladder –

Balancing the moon in one hand

As you reach out with the other to prick the dark velvet blanket cast over the sky

Whilst peering over the edge to find the sun sleeps soundly in her cradle


Lost hope

What of love?

As she works tirelessly to mend broken souls,

Fervently stitching the frayed ends together,

Her fingers rough and calloused.

What of love?

When you unpick all her hard work,

And then complain of that hole in your shirt,

The one where your heart once took shelter.

What of love?

She gave you the shirt off her back,

The one you now wear,

With the hole where she once lived.

The first day of Autumn

Faded blue jeans and a white shirt is what she hides behind today. Closing the front door behind her she sighs and gazes into another grey morning. Tugging at her sleeves as the breeze takes hold of the end of her scarf pulling it behind her, she grabs it and tucks it firmly under the strap of her bag so her mind is free to wonder. She whispers prayers under her breath whilst walking towards another day at work, wondering what it would be like to have his fingers interlocked with hers. A look of worry across her face as she struggles to remember how to kiss, how to embrace so that she fits perfectly into him. Soon standing on the platform, alongside suitcases and pushchairs, the huffing and puffing of impatient commuters, but it’s a couple holding hands that catches her eye and she sighs again as she boards the train.