Oh, my beat-up heart
She tests me at every turn
sass on steroids, this one
always bossing me about
while looking at other men
never enough jewels
Oh, but I love her so much
The rare tender moments
I’m the luckiest bloke
Poetry | Stories | Photography
Oh, my beat-up heart
She tests me at every turn
sass on steroids, this one
always bossing me about
while looking at other men
never enough jewels
Oh, but I love her so much
The rare tender moments
I’m the luckiest bloke
Within the grey day of solitude,
they walked through the cemetery.
Carefully walking around the dead,
respectfully contemplative.
An angel carved from stone sits still,
head bowed in the sorrows.
Withstanding the seasons for her,
the sleeping child within.
The maddening grey
You, conjuring memories
The charm bracelet sways
Lightning strikes the ancient tree
The thundering rain soaks you
She is walking with me
a bad-tempered girl with a scowl
The mirror tells a lie
No heat on at night
the cold crisp covers caress you.
Positioned for sleep
the cat positions herself near your leg.
Waking at three am
the pain of a numb leg and the great urge.
Wobbling in the dark
almost falling into the toilet darkness.
Coming back to bed
The mischief begins
a blooming flower
The Bee hums towards tasty
lost in the nectar
deciduous heart
like the elm tree losing leaves
a heart made for Spring
turn towards the sea
away from the proposal
a sapphire promise
calling for the one you love
walk into the saltwater
The Wind and Sleet come
Water on the Windscreens and
the Windows of Home
Sparrows on the bare branches
Lost to the rain and the Wind
From the winter night
youthful crimson lips appear
With Bloom’s sweet promise
caught within those deep green eyes
A delicious meal for one