Melancholy
filled
mums think:
A shoe sale is on over there;
People laugh at a cafe down there;
They eat cake through there; or
Someone goes on holiday up there,
yet we’re stuck
listening to spoilt
children wailing about
lollipops and money.
Poetry | Stories | Photography
Melancholy
filled
mums think:
A shoe sale is on over there;
People laugh at a cafe down there;
They eat cake through there; or
Someone goes on holiday up there,
yet we’re stuck
listening to spoilt
children wailing about
lollipops and money.
You were locked in a constant word battle,
until she said, “Let’s paint miniatures together…“
You said there was enough left when there was none.
I started on this journey, and now I can’t turn back.
Why did you do it? You know I am not the one to blame.
You push my buttons and make me so angry.
I’ll never understand why you said there’s
sugar when the bowl is empty.
You’re like a drug when
I watch you on the screen.
You make me believe I
could fall in love with a block
of unkempt cheese.
Dude, how did you do it
to yourself and me?
Unattainable folks with cash
and bad haircuts,
but you’re a bit nonplussed.
My feet tingle as you hold
that piece of plastic in your
hand, but how old are you?
You’re fucking the cardboard box
of my life with a blunt knife,
yet I don’t care how you do it.
Continuing to undress in irony
or act like you are the ultimate corporation as you place your name on every plaque.
Whatever the case, Dude, you’ll be using a walker soon enough, and I’ll be wishing I’d said something nice to the lady down the road before she died from a pinprick.

I often lament the endings.
Crying on the couch, thinking how much I would miss you.
What would happen if you died and I lived?
What would happen if I died and you lived?
The last glimpse of you is like the sea;
I’m always longing to be close to you again.
The world isn’t meant for the weak, but am I that strong?
I see you in another land with a pink smile and shining eyes, yet is that you in there?
Sitting at home looking at the mould on the walls and feeling the cold chill that seeps through, I think of my place in society, my poverty.
Yet, when I look out the window, I see the Highlands calling. The streams and mountains call from somewhere ancient to tell me it will be alright.
As I look at the mirror black, I see a face I barely recognise staring back;
yet there’s familiarity in those eyes and those lips.
Undecided yet hopeful, I run outside and leg it towards the hills.
It’s not awful to run, but the sky is so beautiful and grey today.
I wonder when you’ll find me standing by a bin in some random street waiting to touch you again.
We’re so relatable;
just like a knife and a fork.

on the train
my mind is far away
you sit at home
I miss you
I imagine a castle
climbing the walls to reach you
my fingers bleed down the stone
the pain is bearable
darkness takes me
we fall together softly
a long love kiss
a bear hug
off the train
back to you
The dance floor.
A fever burning the timber,
the floor is perspiring fire vigorously.
A refuge
to eat
chocolate
and
ice cream
without
judgement.