Poetry | Stories | Photography
Maybe you will meet me there,
I might wait for you,
or we might come together.
Some say only time will tell,
others say we are fools,
everyone has their opinion.
Maybe fate is a cruel one,
you may lose hope,
I might gain a different view.
We say to one another
just a little longer, love;
we’ll be together soon.
Wading in the sea glass and the sandstone,
look for the place where you used to stand,
thinking back to every time we came here.
An image of you returns.
I cannot remove that image from my mind;
you continue haunting
my life, my mind, and this place of our own.
Wading with only beautiful memories of you,
hearing the bombs fall,
my heart and my mind yearn to see you again.
Warmth in the morning,
opening crusty eyes.
Grumbling about dreams,
running for the toilet,
a fart escapes on the journey.
A giggle from the bed,
“You’re disgusting!”
followed by more giggling.
Sunshine through a blind,
sitting on the toilet,
chatting to your partner.
You were a whirlwind
of hair, scent and sorrow;
I cannot forget you.
Sun intensifying,
a banana chair in view,
work time almost finished,
the day slowly turns into night.
You whisper, “Here you go, my dear…“.
I look back and say, “Thank you, my love, for the beer…“.
We sit in the concreted shade
until the last of the daylight fades.
You strip the house of everything that reminds you of your love.
No fixtures and fittings remain, the paint’s stripped away, and what was once a home is now a shell of a house.
Instead of choosing to hold your dead soulmate’s memory close, you destroy everything, including yourself.
Walk with me,
walk by my side without judgement,
walk on the outside like Dad used to do.
Walk without the anger you always feel,
walk without scolding me in public;
I’m not perfect, and neither are you.
Walk-in tandem with me,
yet you never do.
We exist alongside each other,
unable to forget all the water
flowing under the bridge.
A glass heart breaking,
shards of brokenness scatter,
strewn mercilessly.
Rosy red lips,
supple sweet hips.
A mind like a whip
giving you the lip.
Pride and Prejudice vibes,
taking all of those jibes.
Pale innocence is a lure,
a desire for what is pure.
Mazarine eyes of light,
dancing into the night.
A chance to ask her for more,
relieved you don’t see the door.
The sea calls you both away,
to say what you want to say.
Mum, you are over
three thousand kilometres from
a hug and some tea.
C & K 