The truth in the eye.

The eye betrays the mind

With all the walls built high

With all the gruff and grumble

The eye pushes you to reveal

The truth of the heart

The truth of love lost

The truth of friends that have passed

The eye won’t give in and let it go

It gives away my truth

With one small tear.


Heart and Wing

Tall stands the heart of cold

the agent of despair

the owner of souls

never meant for him.

Ever watchful is the bird

with wings spread wide

eyes all-knowing

all manner of sin.

The heart and the bird

in a dance of forever

one waiting to steal

the other wanting to save.

In the shadow and light

with fist and wing

each wanting the end

with the roads each paves.

And above the dance

is a god still sleeping

lost in a slumber

seeing with no eyes.

The heart likes the slumber

The bird wants him roused

and the world cries out

before the day dies.




Cry Wolf.

It is always the same. A bit of banter, a few giggles and promises made in the name of friendship or the dreaded L-word. The definitive, “you’ll see” and the waiting for something that would be nothing. It was a pattern, like some child calling wolf, over and over again. I always waited, always thought that this time would be the time she would come through. I never won, never read those words of need or want. Once again the story reset and instead of moving ahead in the narrative, it stagnated and repeated.

I can only blame coincidence, because there was always a reason why it could not be shared. Whether illness or time, the reasons themselves became repetitive. I was blunt with my own need to know, but in the end it was always taken for granted. I am weak you see and I reach out and be the person I always am. She never sees that inside I am broken. she never sees that she could fix that part left in tatters.


And I just smile and let it go. Does she get that my smile has become my own wolf. If she could see that behind it lay a truth that she will never understand. Or worse, she does, but can not move to change. This is what she does, this is why she always makes me less. Just once I want a wolf at my door, and finally a promise fulfilled.

But there are no wolves in this story, only imagined and forgotten.

One Tear.

In one tear,

A lifetime of hope,

of love,

and loss…

In one tear,

A history of me,

A life,.

Perhaps a bit more…

In one tear,

A road of what ifs,

What could have beens,

What is and the failing of what was.

In one tear,

A child is born,

A happiness is shared,

A heart is broken,

A story started,

And ended,

In one tear,

Shed for you.



Back of the Line.


You sitting over there,

With your pressed suit,

and crisp white tie…

Who are you?

You look at me!

You judge me!

Because of my old shoes,

And wrinkled grey pants,

My frayed tie,

My off white shirt,

You think you know me,

You judge me,

Fuck you!

And your crisp white tie!

And your shiny black shoes,

and your perfect hair…

Yeah I don’t have hair…

I have experience,

and children,

I have lived, loved, laughed, cried…

and then I died…poorly…

…and you judge me?


You want me,

I’ll be at the back of the line…

Fucking angels.




Inspired by two lines…Thank You Luca.

her words hit me like a prophecy,
i think i am ready to lose control,
perhaps, in truth, a moment,
undone by this lost soul,
her eyes turned from me,
slicing through my heart,
her steps away from me,
no tears left to part,
her words enough to drop me,
as knees cut on broken glass,
i scream to the howling wind,
from the pulpit, a lonely mass.

For Granted.

In a simple way, she loved him. Not a strong or overpowering love, but the love of a friend. It was not without merit or need, she knew she couldn’t live without him, yet she also knew she didn’t want him. It was as, always, what it was.

She used him as her confidant, her go to, and her cuddle buddy. When she was in need of a pick me up, she knew his words would give her the courage, self-esteem and a much needed giggle. She was grateful for his friendship, for the caring he showed her. It was in so many ways perfect.

The day wore a funny face for her today. From the time she woke up and had her morning tea. It was just a bit hazy or a bit blurred. It nagged at her through her day. She texted him without replies, which although not unheard of, was rare. Coming back from the gym she checked her mail and found a letter from him.

“My Darling,

Once I would have moved mountains, swam raging rivers. I would have crossed a desert just for you. There was a time when a look from you would have made everything okay. Moments that were frozen in my mind…the time you cried for me…the time you came to me…the time you made me feel special and needed.

We have grown up together and grown used to each other. I would say that we couldn’t live without, but as you have said, can’t live with. I have told you that I love you, have whispered it while you sleep. I have touched your face and lost myself in your touch, only to know it isn’t true.

I write to you as a pauper,

Poor with only rags to wear,

I offer you my only bread,

Though hunger lays me bare.

I write to you as your poet,

With words you have heard,

I say once more I love you,

As if sung by a song bird.

I hope this letter finds you,

And a tear is quietly shed,

I know I can not have you,

As you have always said.

One last poem, one last smile.


She held it in her hands, and trembled at the words. Her perfect world crumbling around her. She texted again, ignoring the letter as she always ignored him when went on about his feelings. She just needed to talk to him and he would come back, he always came back.

She waited, staring at the phone. In the distance she heard a siren, barely loud enough to hear.

She started to cry.

Could her love,

Really say goodbye?