you were never worthy of her

she's between nevada
and colorado now
married to another
and content
but there was a time
I waited
until early hours
to say goodnight
and once even her name
sounded like a prayer
but when you love someone
really love someone
when your longing is
overtaken by your own worthlessness
and all that is left
within your dying conscience
is the desire
to see her happy
with someone else
with anyone else
then you must let go of the ledge
and fall deeper
into a loneliness
where love cannot breathe
and where truth speaks cruelly

blossom on bridges

blossom on bridges

can hide cracks

that reveals the

rocky water beneath

blossom on bridges

can hide the smell

of rotted timber

that will not

support my weight

and blossom on bridges

can blind me

as I fall

why do it?

I tell myself
that I write to heal
but that's not true
it's just
that the suffering I endure
is slightly less
than filling my wounds with salt
and watching
daytime soaps

a fan

I found your blog by accident
you write beautifully
but you are such a tortured soul

cool
thanks
yup

the home

she is tuneless
but still beautiful
yet he will remove his trousers and willy
without warning
she can't stop walking
and he will tell you to fuck off
with a smile and a wave
but this is where they all gather
with their blurred minds
the slowly forgetting relatives
who offer nothing to this day
but the odour of urine
or a gravy covered chin
their memories are caught
like needles in grooves
endlessly repeating
as their lives slowly
count backwards
to their mother's womb

imperfect

drunk dancing in a kitchen
and cold honesty as I drove
it wasn't a perfect love
but I remembered how to care
and even when my heart
was dropped in a green mug
and the silence
fell between the distance
I still remember her
with a truly english smile

you still make me smile

our first meeting
that first meal
our first kiss
your naked shoreline
your late calls
and my early morning texts
still make me smile
like a loon
in crowded rooms

culluloid lives

cine films
re-paints a childhood
where innocence
still exists
and where we can watch
the dead
mimic life
and wonder
who will watch us
when we join them

the everlasting love note

caught within a book
neglected
forgotten
a small card
carrying words I have read
a thousand times
I read it now like it was yesterday
I hold it close
as if it is some magical bridge to your world
and our past
but I will lose it again tomorrow
and it will be forgotten
like our love

my soulguard

with feet in the clouds

she marks my final years

and sighs

she waits for me up there

my solitary angel

for my silent prayer

for my moment of self doubt

or for a darkness to consume me

but I have no prayer for her

no scream

no shout

for there is no fear of hell in me

so she sits there

bored and restless

whilst her wings twitch
and her feathers fall

redundant

unwanted

with a slipping halo
that will lose its lustre
long before

she will hear my pleas