Eight

The wind whispers on my skin.

It’s your breath; I know it because

Though your body is far away

Your essence resides with me.
The sun kisses my shoulders.

The warmth radiates, permeates,

like a hot drink on a cool day.

It’s your mouth; I know it because

Though your body is far away

The warmth derives from within,

Not without.
The sea circles my waist;

the ebbing surf reaches and draws me in close

I move with it

As it inhales and exhales.

I’m in your arms; I know it because

Though your body is far away

I feel protected and serene;

Harmonious.
The sand embraces my body,

Holding me close and tight;

A custom fit.

It’s your body; I know it because

Though you are far away

Nothing was ever made

So perfectly to measure

As yours and mine, together.

You are here with me;

I know it because

Not even nature

Not wind, fire, water, nor earth

Could feel more

Natural

Than you to me.

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Seven

How pleasant it would be

to just do things

because they felt right.

 

Without fear,

without judgement,

take someone’s hand for comfort, for friendship,

things mean what you make them.

 

How different the world would seem if we could just

hug, kiss,

dance our spirits away out of love and gratitude and happiness

and not be branded whores, teases;

no promises were ever made.

 

 

What a breath of fresh air it would be

to be able to laugh and joke,

to share passions, fill our lungs and sing

without the jeers of ‘attention-seeker’, ‘show off’, ‘putting it on’;

it would be more false to stay silent.

 

How exhilarating

to be able to express yourself

blue hair, tattooed neck.

I’m wearing a skintight dress but my stomach isn’t flat;

you really should wear things that flatter you

yes but i like this

so bite me,

please.

 

What a weight off our shoulders it would be

to be given free rein of our lives

to be ourselves

uncensored, unaltered

 

You.

Six

Why does

every terrific up

have to be met

with a terrific down?

 

Why cannot the glee remain?

Just one last smile, go on it won’t be a late one.

Why cannot I extend

my mirthful séjour-

yes, an extra night in the suite please.

 

Why does the elastic only stretch so far

before snapping back hard.

How cruel

that I don’t even need to pass breaking point

to break.

 

Of course I know

it is better to have frolicked in the clouds

than to never have frolicked at all,

but does the crash always have to be so abrupt

so bitter

like cut metal to the tongue

causing the face to distort

to recoil

to reject such injury.

 

Why cannot I afford the luxury

of being at peace

with the world

with myself

with my mind

for one more moment?

What would it cost

to escape the hands of torment,

to twist free from the snatches

in a woeful, frenzied dance?

 

I would pay it all.

Five

I look back on her years

memories which flicker

like overplayed videos on a worn out VCR;

I watch shapes come and I watch shapes go

seeing things play out

through a lens,

goggles,

eyes that aren’t mine.

 

I feel emotions

like I hear music being played

doors away,

muffled, separate.

 

You took those years from me,

years that I should recall in vibrant, definite

technicolour

not in the mess

a young child makes

experimenting with blues, reds, and greens

on a plywood palette.

 

You stole those moments from me.

Moments I should view from my own perspective,

not a stranger’s.

 

But I am here now,

and I am present.

And like grey fog can burn off to reveal a sunny day,

my own clouds have lifted;

I see again.

 

 

Four

Here on the rooftop

the red stone stings like hot coals

as it reshares the sun’s generous warmth

with the world.

 

Here on the rooftop

I am at sea,

alone

yet surrounded

a fleet of antennae protrude like masts of ships.

 

Here on the rooftop

I melt

with both warmth and gratitude

my skin glistening, my teeth exposed to the sun.

 

Here on the rooftop

a small bug crosses my line of sight

he goes about his day

quiet,

diligent.

 

Here on the rooftop

I lie amongst the clouds,

noting the disparity between my peaceful microcosm

and the bustling hubbub of the streets below.

 

Here on the rooftop

tranquility I have,

tranquil I am.

The day is mine; I am alive.