duckbilledplatitudes

You blow into my life like a February gale And suddenly I'm a prisoner of the elements yet again. Your eyes locking with mine, sweeping me away just for a second When common sense hits, dark as a December afternoon: Friends is all we will ever be. The little things you do that give you away Like the sun peeking out inexorably from behind a cloud Messages in a code shared only by you and me Then sudden cloudburst, drenching me in reality: Nothing can ever come of this. Your smile catches me off guard, knocks me off centre And all of a sudden I'm running with it, a kid with a kite The force of you pulling me in its wake, almost lifting me off

I dreamt you were in bed with me last night I find it happens more and more these days Waking, I stretched across the sheets to where you weren't Aching, tingling with vague remembrance and regret This business is really starting to take it out of me. When I saw you later, across the stage, you looked quite tired No wonder, I thought in a split second of confusion Remembering the script we'd played out ... the performance you'd given For a second I thought I felt your hands on my skin, as hot as the footlights' glare Then jumped back to reality as my eyes lifted sheepishly to meet yours And you smiled at me from the wings the way you always

I wasn't using you. Would you believe me if I told you that? That the sum that seemed so clearly to add up at the time (All that time ... so long ago it feels like another lifetime now) Was calculated by mistake, with no malice aforethought. But would you believe me if I told you That I didn't do it for some warped, ulterior, Self-seeking purpose? Or that I missed your friendship when I'd lost it? That I regretted the actions that had cost it? That I talked to you because you're interesting? That I read your writing because I admired it? That the thing we had in common was incidental to the fact ... ... that I honestly liked you? I know it'

I see you in my mind when I close my eyes The emerald sparkle that dazzles when you smile Showing me what you see when you look into my soul Reflecting my heart without disguise. I hear you in a voice like the midnight waves Whispering their magic when you're far away With words that touch my most secret places Your voice is desire, it makes me crave. I taste you in the whisper of a remembered kiss That leaves its imprint where it has touched Your lips make fantasy spring to life Hinting at secrets of untold bliss. I smell your perfume and it speaks of desire Passers-by on the street, invoking your scent My clothes hold your per

I call myself a writer because I write. I feel things in the sharpest detail Keen as a nib scratching on paper. I call myself a writer because I think in words Dream in words, see in words, So even if I never see those words inked on a page Or my name etched on a cover on the bookshop shelf, I'll still call myself a writer. I call myself a writer because I see. I observe, when I should be doing. I speculate, when I should be deciding. I question, when I should be accepting. I think: too much, they say. I imagine: too fanciful, they say. I just call myself a writer. I call myself a writer because I can't stop it. Sometimes ther

It takes more than just words, you know Obsessive yearnings laid bare for all to see Uncaring for the feelings of the one she really wants It takes more than that to engage a heart like hers. She's not so cheaply bought with clichéd stanzas With your desperate pinings for what will never be Don't you have any pride ... or respect for me? It takes more than empty compliments to bridge an ocean More than a few literary twirls to dress porn in a soul. You had no right to write what you did To air your predatory longings so publicly Have you any idea how you've wrecked my day? Has no one ever told you that 'I want' doesn't get?

Your heart is saccharine, a mere semblance of sweet I'm sickened inside; I can no longer eat. A rosy-pink tableau with a black thread stitched through it There's malice in wonderland, if you only knew it. As you cook up your stews of expectation You thrive on the praise and the adulation And I bite my tongue as I watch how you roll Keeping my anger under tight control. I try to keep a calm, collected head But each time is an occasion for dread How can I associate you with anything other With the things you say because I'm not a mother? Your endless litanies of this-is-how-to-be You seem to have everyone fooled … except me.

I brought you Mimosas for breakfast With fresh croissants, and a lotus blossom on the tray Each morning, and watched your face as you ate and drank Unnoticed by you, enraptured as you were By the view outside our hotel bungalow The turtle dove that billed and cooed just for you The rising madness of the Maldive sea Lapping ever higher, threatening, encroaching Some day, you said, this could all be washed away. The careless stately lines of your profile, turned away The way you always appeared to me in my dreams If I were only brave enough to turn you back to face me Kiss you with all the passion and fear of the waves Break thrillingly on y

I used to wait for you between the words The caress of your keystrokes ... overwhelming at first Your depths were dark, a bottomless black inkwell Your passions were my paperweight ... I wondered if I could cope So strange, then, how it was you who changed. Oh, elegant was your signature on my heart ... at first. Inscribed in a copperplate I thought would never fade. But I became dizzy from the endless looping swirl of you, Your certainty that the whole world was against you, The intricate complexities of your heart, Your labile unpredictabilities, Your constant dramas, ... you. The way you took to hiding between the lines Darti

Sincerity is a cloak: it shields integrity Guarding the truth in its sheltering folds Or concealing dark venom beneath its mantle A flimsy facade on a heart that is cold. Bracing as ice on a muggy day In careful hands it is a compliment It sharpens the mind, brings clarity Revealing a person's best intent. But for some it is a cunning excuse To turn a smile to a worried frown. To scratch the compelling itch of unkindness That lurks beneath everyone's skin, deep down. Sincerity is a jewel to be carefully guarded And handled softly, with intentions kind. It flashes the truth in all its colours But in the wrong hands, its light ca