i lie in these worn out lavender sheets

drawing your silhouette in stale air and cigarette smoke

fading, the imprint of your breath

set in flickering embers of burnt sienna

i find solace in the exposed mattress spring

slicing through the smell of damp earth glistening in silver

moonlight, darkness a temporary respite

beneath drooping eyelids with a peek of red

tears wrung out like soapy dishwater

i sit at the splintered coffee table, waiting

for the wind’s confession on the other side of a door

unlocking, sub-zero hands on heated flesh

a crooked smile to break up the loneliness

shedding like the peeling wallpaper

burdened by your irrevocable absence

one day

i’ll change the sheets

get a new mattress

and drink coffee in that new café down the street

one day

i’ll lure myself into technicolor normalcy

till i realise i can’t deny your existence

not when my heart continues to beat

to that bittersweet tune

of calling out your name

peppered with the rustling of fresh dahliahs

lying pretty beneath your tombstone

erected with hopeless mercy

At midnight

I hear the shuffling of feet

the grudging handshake of hinge and lock

i swallow the rabbit’s foot whole

fishing for luck in mangled felt and crusted saliva

the night’s patrons

crusted in blinding silver

spread themselves thin

beneath the sky’s satin skin

rippled with cobalt debauchery

through the welded crevices

the wind whispers sweet nothings against my skin

I begged to be whisked away

but only a defeated sigh marked its departure

the gong is struck once

a single talon fingernail packed with filth sadistically strokes the doorknob

the gong is struck twice

a dull ache follows

turned against its will,

the metal pins groan out of place with a satisfactory click

the gong is struck thrice

the banshee has awoken

her chill cry ringing between my ears

relinquishing control,

the disgraced golem’s heart is slowly consumed

by the seeping darkness

a silhouette

of charcoal lips burned unto

the skin of other children

its shapeless body wrapped in midnight silk

excitement creeping

in time

with the quivering child’s form

swathed in hand-knitted blankets

growing up to forsaken dreams and

riding the fever high of induced nightmares

Mr Trapezoid has arrived

Won’t you say good night?

a slowly unravelling ribbon

lays bare your skeletal remains

bone china grinded into fairy dust –

trailing breadcrumbs in the deafening darkness

howling for her children,

the wind sends along a feeble breeze

grazing rose tinted apples

freshly washed

a carless whisper of forgotten love

the sweet hymn of the obesidian temptress beckons me

starry-eyed disciples scattered around her moonlit kingdom

clothed flesh laid to rest on blushing emerald

Mona Lisa smile framed by trembling fingers

patterns traced on velvet shadows

patterns traced on bashful skin

a silver of space untouched by the cold wind

kissed instead by frothy heat

spilling over

the hymn of the obesidian temptress grows quieter

of her starry-eyed disciples, only the elders stay awake

the children are tucked away, chasing dreams

the rustling of blushing emerald the only warning

before the spirited beacon dances across the moonlit kingdom

carried on a whistling carraige of wind

I couldn't fathom the beauty lying beside me

for I witnessed something so magical

in the reflection of his eyes

staring back at me

your lips take my earlobe prisoner

warm breath on the nape of my neck

fingertips trace patterns on blushing flesh

before closing the distance

between the blooming valley

and home

honey whisky gets lost in cerulean depths

your forehead takes rest on mine

and your lips part

giving way to a

longing whisper

"just one more minute"

the ocean gargles around me

its unflinching tone a

cold slap

on dimpled flesh

the blue runs deeper

and in the back of my mind

i see you

a white dress

amongst the bevy of sunflowers

the sky blurring

into rainclouds

as my own vision

shifts in and out of

focus

oxygen becomes scarce

i crack open the safe

tucked away in the closet

of my brain

just to see

your hazel eyes

dipped in sunshine

before

i’m lost

forgotten

a dismal tune

sung by the mermaids

perched atop their rock

waiting

for anyone’s heart

to spare them a second glance

Trapped in a metal box,

I watch as the onlookers tinged

with green, oranges and yellows

wave back to me

Grey starts closing in

on the sky's clarity

and my mind lulls itself

to almost feel the warmth

of your fingertips

your promise to stay

a weightless dream

you've so effortlessly sold

to another

so I now drift aimlessly

waiting for the wind to claim me

with a

w h i s p e r

of its invisible beauty

I watched as your fingers tenderly cusp the glass’s stem

bringing the amber liquid to your lips

your sapphires gleaming with calculated intent

Your yearning silently wails 

like a siren they beckon me

and before long,

our shadows kiss under the chandelier

I entice you with temptation’s whispers

to lose our way in the moon’s labyrinth

my breath catches in your smile

and yet you leave without so much as an accidental caress

your answer ringing clear as the crowd devoured you

“How about dinner first?”

when quietness ensues

the wind unabashedly caresses your earlobe

trailing its fingers along the soft flesh

of nature's children

the nightingale's song lull you to an oasis

where dusty blues, sun kissed oranges and soft lavenders

tango with one another

the scent of young cherries

tucked into their golden, flaky bed

amble from your neighbour's windowsill

to mingle

with the faint rosebuds of your mother's perfume

mouths move on cracked pavements

                                          tyres screech on worn roads

but they dissolve in a fog of muted humming

its wispy strands like cloud's fluff

coming apart at the slightest pressure

                     D

                     R

                     O

                     P

goes the sink's dampened martyr

and life trudges forward without another falter

The falling snow dots his peacoat

the hymn of the bluebells echo in the distance

sandpaper hands collide desperately

matching the rhythm of his heartbeat

pulsing around him

The last of the sun's soldiers

are beginning to retreat to their bases

their comrades come out of hiding

the ones who prefer the company of darkness

and take over the reigns of the vast battlefield

Trudging forward in the thick blanket

of crystallised white

his eyes adjust to the permeating mono saturation

where there were emeralds and sapphires

now lay the bleakness of dark blues and black

His footsteps neither propel him forwards or backwards

the veil of darkness surrounding him growing opaque

as body's fatigue hungrily feasts on the weariness of his soul

warmth is no longer his commodity,

his languid body bracing itself for an icy embrace,

his eyelids fluttering close

                                        close

                                                  close

It is in the tightest crevices of reality

that he notices the faintest glow of withering hope

bathing the aged oak etched deep with curved lines

and the wilderness that stand guard on either side

with a touch so ethereal

it could be mistaken for wishful thinking

"I'm coming home"