In the end.

What are you thinking she asks?

There is no answer. Only the silence that she has now come to know.

What happened to all the words?

It seems they were ripped violently from this plane

only to be absorbed by black matter that will never let them go.

Where is the laughter? Why has it died away? Were there no watering holes to fuel it’s liquid needs?

What of the tears?

They have dried and formed small hills of salt on the plains of her existence.

Where is the proof of lovely times past?

It has disappeared like invisible ink.  Only to be seen again when acidic juice falls upon the pages. Revealing what was but is no longer.

What of the heart?

It wills upon itself scar tissue, in the hope of covering open wounds.

But it wasn’t all bad. Right?


Tell me …

something I don’t know

make it delicious.

Tantalize with your words


spin a web of sin

so that I may catch myself in the silken threads.

Hold me close


sweet nothings

that mean everything.

Talk to me of the stars and their incandescence

whilst waltzing through a dream.

I want to know what it’s like to be entranced, entrenched and enchanted.

Please …


I miss you.

Your words so crisp

intimate tones

the prospect of fingertip caressing moments.

When I think of you butterflies still erupt forth

fluttering their wings from the inside out.


It just takes time.

And timing is everything,

isn’t it?

Hearts Desire


It’s quiet now.

My mind, which races through the days

slows like molasses.

Darkness permeates the room

allowing me to float effortlessly

above myself.

No restraint, untethered and free.

sparkling bits of universal dust

drift about like fairy magic.

My heart says “make a wish”

Then suddenly, the word appears.

The letters are crisp and clean but with a softness about the edges.


Re-entry into the body is gentle.

There is –





Universal Gift …

Last night the universe blessed me with a gift.

It’s amazing, how when you least expect it, something gracious happens.

I met someone.

A random meeting of two kindred strangers.

I found him charming, kind and sweetly complimentary.

Raised in Russia, a dissident from birth (so he said),

with a Masters in Engineering

and a love for all things philosophical.

We spoke of the cosmos and our mutual admiration of words, both written and spoken.

He called me lovely and inquisitive.

It made me smile.

When I awoke this morning I strangely no longer felt disdain towards this day.

Instead I simply felt happy and somehow new.

A much-needed breath of fresh air to wash away the stagnancy.

Thank you.

Through the looking glass …

Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror.

Really looked?

I did this evening and an odd thing occurred:

I didn’t really recognize the individual peering back.

There before me was a woman.


with soft unlined skin

and blue inquisitive eyes.

But there was something else,

a feeling of familiarity mingled with the unknown.

It was as if I could see the past – present and future all at once.

There was a beautiful strength emanating from this reflection

and it penetrated the cold glass.

I waited – wanting to hear her voice.

Hoping that privy bits of worldly advice and knowledge

would spill from the painted lips.

But there was none.

As I turned to walk away, I heard

bold words of encouragement,

beauty and love.

For myself.

From myself.


I switched off the light

knowing …

Non-existent …

You’re not real.

(were you ever?)

Simply a figment of my imagination.

Something and someone conjured

during a time of vulnerability.

Now and again

(I swear)

I remember pieces of tangible.




warm breath

filled with words of desire

seeping through to saturate gentle, curious, tongues .

And, what of  the olfactory moments –

heated, cologne whispered, skin

left on sheets – so long ago laundered.

Bringing back  your non-existent ways.