Sunday is like a sad ending
a permanent halo of murky clouds with threats of rain
My first instinct is to
curl up with a good book
hot coffee cooling
the rain is pouring and the wind is crying
as if in mourning
the death of the week.
I look up to the night sky and see
the moon and the goddess of love
shining down on me and filling me with light
Virility and fertility
neighbours becoming aware of each others existence
appearing close to touch yet light years away
like lovers reaching out to clutch at nothing.
My glass is almost full to capacity
brimming with uncertainty
The starless sky lies thick and heavy
In the quiet of the night it screams to be heard
anxious thoughts – all consuming
a racing heart with scattered beats
wake me from these fevre dreams
With bleary eyes and a heavy heart
have I even been asleep?
the street is empty
somewhere a clock chimes the hour
the birds are silent
half of me exposed
bathing in shallow water
the rest is hidden
I write about flowers so the words will be forever in bloom.
My heart has died
and I am just the shell that surrounds it
I was drowning
and you were the water
filling my lungs
you had me in the palm of your hand
until your hand became a fist.