The winding circle

It had been a long and arduous day. The rain ticked and splattered on the shop windows. Where was she going? Home of course, where else? Oh, but one wouldn't hurt, she thought to herself, just the one and then off home, the train would be late today.

The local barflies hung around, humming their same old conversations, drawling on about nothing in particular. What a waste of a life she thought to herself, sitting in the same old bar every day. She liked to watch them all the same. The sight of them in their wrinkled clothes with their unkempt hair and unshaven faces, what a sorry sight they are, she would chortle quietly.

sooner or later he would appear, as he did most days, looking for her as he opened the door, cautious of the men on stools quietly making love to their pints. He would see her, they would talk, and then she would finish her drink and leave, of course.

As predicted there he came, through the doors searching for her, though all the while knowing exactly where she would be. He smiled and approached. sitting on the seat to her right and folding his jacket in a slap shod sort of way he asked about her day.

When she spoke to him he seemed to listen, though she was almost certain he could not have cared less about whatever it was she had to say. His eyes always searched her body, as though for wanting some answer to some secret she was unaware he had heard of. This made her slightly uncomfortable to begin with, but over time she had come to accept it as his way.

Entering the bathroom she felt warm and heady. Pressing her face to the tiles for comfort. She often took pleasure in the solace provided by the two doors that separated her from the drone of the barflies. Looking into the mirror she saw her makeup had begun to fade and bleed in places. She attempted to fix it with a dampened tissue, but each time she approached the mirror to examine herself she seemed blurred somehow, i must get my eyes examined she thought.

Walking back into the bar she stumbled and fell, some stupid person put their chair in front of me, how inconsiderate! She glanced about sharply at those to left and right of her, trying to identify the guilty party, but to no avail. Looking up she saw her companion, a slight grin adorned his otherwise placid face, he must think me such a fool she thought, a jester perhaps! ha ha.

Are you alright? he asked her, still seeming somewhat amused. She grimaced. He had ordered her another glass, just what she needed to cool down and unwind from her embarrassment. How thoughtful of him. As he slipped the glass carefully into her hand his fingers caressed her own quite purposefully. His eyes still searching her as he moved closer, she could feel his hand pressed to her shoulder.

As his hands slid up her dress, lifting it over her head and arms gazing at every passing inch of her body against the blood red sheets. Her pale skin, soft and warm, the soothing motherly curve of her hips, the rise and fall of her gentle breathing chest, the steady flow of blood passing through the vein in her neck like a small drum beat and the way her lips slightly parted when her eyes firmly closed. A sight he enjoyed often. He lifted her limp body from the waist and removed her underwear. Her lips were wet and inviting when he kissed them.

wWhen she woke alone with the sunlight burning through the curtains, filling the room with a pink glow, her head throbbed, her back ached and her mouth was dry and potent. A faint and lingering scent of Guinness hung in the cold air. Oh god where am i? She searched for some familiar place or object, then he appeared and all at once she became suddenly aware of her nakedness. You should get dressed, he said, pointing to a chair covered partially by her sprawling of clothes, we'll be leaving in about fifteen minutes. Then he was gone.

Each time the train jerked uneasily around a corner or bend she felt her insides writhing with discontent. They did not speak, he no longer searched for any hidden secrets, and his gaze met only that of the speckled linoleum floor.

It had been a long and arduous day. The rain ticked and splattered on the shop windows. Where is she going? Home, of course....

criminal records

each time i close my eyes
thoughts from my past come screaming back
each kiss
each touch
my skin crawls
who am i?
surely this wasn't me
surely not
it couldn't be?
oh yes it was
between each filthy set of sheets
twas i, the whore of Babylon
no, better yet, the devil's concubine!
my lust
my greed
never satisfied
i dare not even blink for the sight of writhing bodies
i can still feel their warm, wet flesh on my lips
the taste of them
my stomach churns
i beg of it to purge my guilt
but no, nothing
just torturous nausea
each burning penetrating stare
i feel on my person all at once
as though i were once again naked
at their command
i remember the cross
silvery and cool
upon my chest where it landed
the searing sting of my tears
as they fell
the tiny pattering as they landed in my hair
and the profound, screaming silence that followed.

the old wedding band

a simple band of gold
no diamond to be found
a simple lovers token
made with simple round
when in the light it shines
when in the dark it fades
but within it lies a promise
that one sweet lover made
a promise to be faithfull
a promise to be true
this simple band was given
from my one
my only
you
upon my ageing finger
with it's wrinkles
with it's scars
it still shines true with memories
that all alone were ours
though now it's surface scuffed
the engraving all but worn
still it shows that promise
of a true love that was sworn
many years ago
when we were still so young
when we were happy bright and gay
with songs still to be sung
when you were strong and tall dear
before you faded fast
when i could still caress you
and hear your muffled laugh
so many years this ring has seen
a fair few less than i
but many more than you had seen
and lived here by my side
for i lost you long ago love
so many years gone by
but each day i still think of you
when we were you and i

i wander on the future
now our time has passed
certain only of one thing
that my sweet and simple ring
will stay upon my finger till the last

deceptions

torn asunder is my heart
for each love is loved equal
each love i love divine
but which half of one heart can truly love?
can half a heart so torn as mine feel any love at all?
could it be that earthly passions tear my heart a twain?
could it be my heart deceives for one and both the same?
or truly does my heart deny me what i so desire?
truth is what i seek
but where i ask does truth belong in the realms of love?
i look into the face of one i love so dearly
can my heart be playing with my eyes
that i could gaze upon him with such adoration
yet still another casts his beautiful image in my mind?
oh woe betides those who love so freely
how beside myself am i
that my shadow seems to cover me
how can i feel such feelings
when once or twice at least upon days gone by i so loved another?
oh sweet and unforgiving deceptions of the heart
release me from this turmoil and offer loving guidance
give me but one answer
one needle and one thread
that once again my heart be whole
and love one love so true and righteously
i plead
i beg of you
my heart in all its parts wants only one simple thing
one love
in one person, one part
to love as one whole.

hidden from view

i have given everything
every morsel of my being has been devoured
i breathe
i feel
i cry
but still each tear falls shallow
every breath sighs and echoes with my emptiness
each emotion is wrought with the same discontent
i gave it all to them
my friends
my lovers
my foes
each one and the same in their deceptions
lovingly tore away my facade
leaving my weakness exposed
throw this desiccated wood onto the fire
watch me burn
feel the heat of my passing
watch me die
but a glowing ember
soon to be discarded
this is life
this is all that is left
i was once not so different from them
i too once felt the thrill of passion
i too once lept for joy
i too once indulged in my sorrows and pain
but now i am as the sunset
marvel at my beauty
gaze softly at the world enshrouded in my glow
for soon i will pass
soon a silvery shadow of what once was will take my place
you will marvel at it's beauty still
gaze softly at the world enshrouded in it's glow
but still it is no more than a reflection
a mirror
my own deception
i will be gone
away into the deep forgiving void
hidden from view.

the revolving door

i watched the world go by
through a slow revolving door
the whisper and the sigh
as it's brushes swept floor
tiny patters on the glass
as raindrops fell like tears
and all the while
the world still passed
seconds turned to minutes
then to years

the mumble and the clatter
down the hall
of people rushing by
barely taking any notice
if at all
of the swishing and the patter
of the slow revolving door
or the murmuring and clatter
of their feet upon the floor

i glanced to left and right
to the painting then the door
and then saw such a sight
as i never had before
the twirling door stood still
and the rain it's pattering ceased
the murmur now was quiet
and no sounds of clicking feet

i stood and closed my eyes
then glanced about once more
the world was standing still
so i opened wide the door
outside the rain hung solemn
in a sky that slept quite still
not a flicker there of movement
no breeze or winter chill

i wandered though great cities
through the towns and countryside
no obstacles to stop me
the world was mercy to my stride
i saw the seven wonders
and the many more besides
i walked on waves, danced on clouds
and slept on frothy tides

in these moments or these hours
in these minutes or these days
i saw the world a thousand times
in five hundred different ways
each person and each object
each though perfect
still quite flawed
and then i went from whence i came
back through the turning door

i sat upon my chair again
and paused a moment more
then closed my eyes
opened them

and then i watched the world go by
through the slow revolving door.

Morning

the morning breaks,
and with it lies the cool and gentle thoughts,
of what lays within it's wake,
what of the new beginnings dawn has brought,
as passions fill my eyes with golden light
the vales and hills reflect such beauty bright,
within the breeze,
the hush and mellow melody of birds,
the rustling of the leaves,
seem to whisper in their own enchanted words,
what secrets do they to each other sigh
twain death of night and birth of morn is nigh
a prayer perhaps for i,
the one so wrought with loves pure ills
for you the one whom for my love doth spill.