Tell me woeful wind where are you coming from?
Whose hair have you already mussed?
Are you bringing me the cheap perfume of a hastily sprayed teenager or perhaps the poised, pulse-douse of a well-aged dame ?
But you are not the same.
There is something different about you today.
I fear you carry tears.
I feel the light spray of sadness whet my own.
You are not an ill wind but rather a ropey one.
Tying us together with all our untrapped chaos
Must you bring me this news ?
I hear the echoe of a sob so very raw
Not even the crows’ caw
Can drown it.
The shushing of you through the leaves
Is the calm before the storm
Warn. Warn. Warn.
The knock at my door this morning.
Floral and flouncy she brushes through,
Energy radiating from her like a tiny perfect tornado.
Lift me up. I need her to lift me up.
I am silt today. No good to anyone.
A bloated mass of drained out goodness.
Whirl me pretty thing.
Remind me that I like to sing.
I do faintly recall, dabbing oils behind my ears
And popping colour on my lips.
But today I am grey.
I think I have no place in this picture.
I want to want it.
I want to crave the light.
But I have no sight.
She is the only link to what I once was.
If she were a color she wouldn’t stay between the lines.
She bleeds through pages and it is her blood I need.
Feed. Feed me.
See more. See more.
I need to see more.
There are no surprises for a writer
Just the outcome of one storyline that we had already imagined.
It is both our curse and cure.
To never be sure
But always certain that the winds of change will blow our curtains
Wide. Wide. Wide.
The worlds we create sweep far beyond you.
To see what is possible and to guess the impossible.
The magic of it all.
Life has us in thrall.
No you didn’t ambush me.
I saw it a million miles away.
Silly you behind a bush.
Hush. Hush. Hush.
No shock at your roadblock.
A writer has hope is all.
Hope that the right tale is the one our lives will take
But if not , we won’t break.
We’ll go around and about.
We’re weavers and believers.
Ah yes but it’s all a dream isn’t it ?
Don’t ever be smug
That you pulled the rug
From underneath me.
I put it there and I didn’t tie it down.
The biggest lesson you taught me
Is that it is possible to breathe.
It is possible to walk about and eat and sleep and touch and laugh and squeeze out tears.
It is possible to play the part
But have no heart.
You taught me about a new breed
Who walk among us folk
You think we’re the joke ?
I suppose we are.
We are cursed by the need to understand people like you
The other kind who
Hurt and harm, with a well crafted charm.
But more than hurt you have taught me pity
Because you didn’t just fall to earth.
You are man-made, my dear
This persona borne of fear.
The love that is allowed thrive for most of us
Must have been beaten out.
So I forgive you though you don’t actually care
The truth is I forgive myself.
Forgive myself for being ever pissed
With yet another narcissist.
I cannot but note the checkered path you walk.
Light. Shadow. Light. Shadow.
Both in equal measure
Casting pain then dispersing pleasure.
It is this half life you lead
One foot in Heaven, the other in Hell.
Heaven. Hell. Heaven. Hell.
The veil between the two
Means nothing to you.
You never ask
In which pool I bask?
The tepid water is not for me.
I require the sea.
The clean, mean, wash of a million waves
Save. Safe. Saves
This is not a mermaid’s tale.
It is my story. My glory.
I won’t sit on a rock and comb my hair
Looking to you for all my air.
So If you wish to swim by my side.
Then pick one.
I longed for solvation
The kind that allows you to work it all out in one fell swoop.
I tried. I did. I tried.
I could not sit. I could not sleep.
My resolve was to solve.
I did my best with everyone
I brushed things under the rug
Hug. Hug. Hug.
I hugged it out.
I wanted everyone in neat littles boxes.
Like me. Like me.
I wanted you all to like me.
I paid no heed as pieces fell off.
A chip here or there.
It was worth it wasn’t it ?
But people don’t like mess.
And they complained that I was no longer enough.
I cut my arms off for you
But you wanted me whole.
And only when I was a torso lying in the dirt
Did I see the truth of it all.
It’s a tug of war .
And if I give a little
You take a mile.
If I smirk a little
You want a smile.
So I stand firmer now
And hope you admire my might
And if you don’t
Tough fooking shite.
There’s a word for someone like you
But I haven’t found it yet
What you are is not in my vocabulary
I was never taught the rules by which you play
The map by which you live
There’s a word for you, there has to be
I’m not sure what it is
As I’m not sure what you are.
There’s a whisper on the wind since the first time we kissed
Nar… Nar… Narcissist.