i think being a writer is the most honest form of lying that exists. even as artists 1

Advertisements

The Third Wheel…

Being in any relationship has its hardships and delights, but when mental health issues are in the mix does this complicate things or does it enlighten them?

At what point do you tell them? Right at the beginning, on your dating profile, after six months or just wait for them to notice and say, oh didn’t I tell you? When is it okay to say, “Hey! I have a mental illness, well not one or two but three!” When will they believe it’s just a part of me? 

(more…)

The last plot twist of the year…

Have you seen that Instagram post “I hope the last two months of 2017 are the plot twist you were hoping for”? (original owner unknown.)

I have and it struck home to me. I pictured 2017 as a year-in-the-life book, then I questioned; what would it be about, what would I write about?

So, 2017 as much as you have been sweet to me you have also been unkind, and this why.

(more…)

Fears.

 

Lingering in silence, I am my worst company
But am I my greatest enemy?

After all is said after all is gone
Did I do my best
For what is done?

Pain besides me it lingers in my breath
For every word unspoken
For every death.

Forgetful dreams and wishful tears
For all the things I miss
For all of those years.

Through the pain and the glory of all the battles, I have seen
The worst defeat was for those
who have never been.

Whose ashes sway in the wind through the day and the night
Through the darkest hours
And through the light.

As time carries me on my feet shall fall
I know I still go on
I have given my all.

Even in the silence I still hear their cheers
Their almighty roars
Of all their forgotten fears.

 

 

3am.

You come over at 3am and I’m tired.

Whilst drinking my gin, you tell me stories of your night and fill the ashtray with your cigarettes.

It is 7am and you leave after one kiss.

So I’m sat here finishing that drink and smoking the cigarettes you left.

Now I’m wide awake, wondering how the hours went by because you always come.

Then walk away.

 

 

Dying Stars

I lay beside your body and your silence filled my lungs.
I can feel the tingle of my fingers as I stroked your chest.
Your heart beat protruded through your skin and I felt the pain of a thousand dying stars.

In the glory of death, they have never glistened so bright. They were beautiful to the naked eye, just as you were naked.

You were beautiful.

In that moment, sorrow swirled through your tired eyes and I knew, I knew the pain you felt.
How it crippled your lungs and made your hands shake.

I knew what it had done to you, how it had encaged you in a life of broken dreams.
I knew what it was doing to you.

How it was tying your tongue to your throat to choke the words that could set you free.
I knew that I could not fight it for you but be there by your side, to see you through the war against your mind.

The moonlight laid against our skin and our eyes met, your lips parted and a shiver ran through my veins.
I could hear your thoughts through the shadows of the room as if they were projected onto the walls around us.

You did not talk but you pressed your lips against my skin and that was all the words you could never know how to begin.