not now

she averted her gaze, when she saw him sitting there drinking coffee. the diamond in her ear did not shine as brilliantly as the teardrop caught in her lashes. it had not been easy for her to accept the ending that had been imposed on her. the summer had left tangles and knots in her dark hair and the sun crushed violet stains on those sun kissed cheeks. and then he saw her biting down her lip, hard... a surge of memories as the bitter, hot coffee scalded his tounge.

10 pm

full moon in a rosy haze

i walk beneath

--leaves stirring sleep

on a dark night

as she sat there in the corner, sunbeams kissed her feet warm; incomplete phrases vied for attention. a night lit by a thousand candles; a field of lavender blooms; a half-baked moon and a couple of sweet danish pastries; pretty things to carry on her arm and colours as many as butterflies strewn across silk softer than the powder on their wings and the firefly...oh the firefly, the darkness turned into a cloak of black velvet by the firefly.

she collected these thoughts as the pool of light grew larger and enveloped her. someday, she hoped, those thoughts will become into fireflies to light up your darkness.

hurt

i want you to apologise for this asphyxiating silence

but of course you shall never read these words. i was waiting for roots to grow, watching too keenly like a hawk, circling above, an eye out for each shoot, each new leaf, a new comment, a fresh look; reading and re-reading notes.

and....

night falls silently
i fold up my thoughts
tuck them under my pillow
a quiet hurt
which is not quite loneliness
but...

but which even i don't understand.

dusk

evening sky,

are your cheeks too

freshly scrubbed?

words or none

and when you do sit down to say your piece, words suddenly turn strangers, shrug their shoulders and walk away. you are left staring at them, beseeching them, please come back, you little Rumpelstiltskins, this is when i need you but no they are gone and you are here, you and now; darling if you really meant it, it will come through wordlessly perfect.

4 pm

late afternoon sun:

walking through the empty park

only cicadas, mynas and crows now.

last night

a new moon -

sound of my breath

whispers of the past

sunstroke

gotta get some love to go; don't spill, keep it covered;

run fast and get over here;

let the music burn in your mind

and let those feet fly and take you high;

higher and higher;

you run and the sun is a distant memory now.

spare parts will be found on the way;

don't you worry i can always put you together

and shimmy my way through this.