Writer’s Block

Sometimes,
when the words get stuck,
I force them out of me
to tell the silent world
of my fear of losing;
to tell
how scared I am
of people walking out on me,
and of the loneliness
that lurks behind.
But the fickle little things
refuse to rhyme,
so I crumble up the paper
and toss it far way,
leaving myself
sitting here
without a way
to say I’m sorry,
without a way
to ask them
not to leave,
or to beg for them
to stay …

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Sleep

a lonely body                                 a company of two
in a bed for two                             a bed made for one
warmth                                             the heat
and empty space                          of uncovered bodies
only pillows                                    the cold creeps in
to rest your head                           the smell of sweat
the air light                                      rustling sheets
and oh, so quiet                             and heavy breathing
laying flat                                         squeezed into a corner
with room right next to you       a kick, a push
for the invisible love                     to claim your side
that keeps you cold                       reaching out in darkness
cry out in the night                        a hand waiting
and feel the silence                       an arm wrapped round your body
calling back                                      bow-tied embrace
toss and turn                                    restrain from moving

fall asleep
and dream
then wake up

and fall                                                    and land

 

On A Rainy Day

On a rainy day
like today
very little can be said.
In loss of words
you simply open the window
and think,
or maybe try not to,
and you wish
tomorrow won’t be wetter.
On a rainy day
like today
you waste away the time,
stare into the clouds,
and you convince yourself
it’s not loneliness
you’re hearing.
It’s just the rain.