Thankful (14/10/13)

I’m grateful for late mornings
And days where I don’t have to do anything.
I’m thankful for the smell of grass
And the red leaves on the ground as autumn gets under way.

I’m thankful for that song that brings me to my knees
And banoffee flavoured ice cream.
I’m grateful for the books on my shelf
And marathons of TV shows.

I’m thankful for that boy who makes me smile
And the friends who are always there for me.
I’m grateful for cats
And that I can eat Nutella straight out of a jar.

I’m thankful for Star Wars (even the prequels)
And the sound of rain on my window
And the buzzing of chatter on the bus.
I’m grateful for my best friend’s laugh.

I’m thankful for the people in my life
And I’m glad that we broke up.
I’m thankful for fantasy novels
And piano ballads
And beautiful chord progressions
And macaroni cheese
And that dusty old heater
And the music on my playlist
And the hairbrush I sing into
And movies that make me cry
And that pretty little notebook I never used.

I never said it, not ever
But I’ll be thankful, forever.

Are there people? (12/10/13)

Possible trigger warning for sexual assault. Something jerked my memory recently, and this is how I cope.

Are there people in the world who don’t feel what I feel
Whose hearts don’t pound in fear
When they walk past a dark-haired boy
Who looks a little like the one who wouldn’t stop?

Are there people who wouldn’t freeze
And let his hands go where they shouldn’t?
Are there people who’d just block out
The filth that came pouring from his lips?

Are there people who wouldn’t cry out
And scratch their nails across his mouth?
Are there people who wouldn’t fumble with their belts
Try and yank their jeans up but their hands shake?

Are there people out there who don’t cry
Because he got too far inside?
Are there people who wouldn’t run
And trip and fall and bleed, undone?

Are there people who wouldn’t hide
And bottle it all up inside?
Are there people who lock the memories away
And never let them out again?

Are there?

Dear God (12/10/13)

Dear God

Did You do this? Are You playing games with me?

Dear God

Why can’t I breathe when I look at him?

Dear God

Stop it, it’s cruel.

Dear God

I’m sorry. It’s obviously me. I made a mistake. I’m sorry.

Dear God

I think I’m drowning.

Dear God

Please help me get through this.

Dear God

Save me.

Dear God

I think I’ve screwed it up.

Dear God

Give me a sign?

Dear God

Why would You put someone amazing in front of me, someone that I’m not allowed to touch?

Dear God

Why couldn’t You have made me amazing?

Dear God

Please.

Dear God

I’m begging You.

Dear God

I’m so scared.

Dear God

He’s everything. I’m a guitar that no-one will play.

Dear God

I want him to strum away.

Dear God

This is an imbalanced scale, and it tipped long before it should. Put us right.

Dear God

This isn’t fair. What did I do?

Dear God

Am I getting through to You?

Personal post

Just remembered that November is next month, and that means…

Bonfire Night!

Well, it does, but it’s also NaNoWriMo time, and I will try (and most likely fail) to write another novel in a month. It’s a target, anyway.

So yeah, I might not be posting as regularly (why do I even have followers), because I’ll be using my free time to be writing for that. I’m torn whether to do a new draft of my five-year-old story or a new one I thought of that involves interstellar travel, humans migrating to new planets and a mostly-female land pirate crew.

I’ll make up my mind when it gets nearer the time. 

A Special Type of Poison (7/10/13)

Fingers linger on the button, don’t know what to do.
Do I share? Do I let the most secret parts of me
Be visible to you?

I close my eyes. No. I haven’t got the guts.
Just bones and skin and a thumping heart
Lungs stopped working because I can’t breathe any more.

I need air.

You’re the sweetest poison, the most delicious toxin.
Every time you’re near I choke on my love.
When you smile I start to drown
And when you talk to me, I suffocate behind a laugh.

Like a first cigarette, I splutter
Like my first vodka shot, I’ll spit you out.
A dangerous pleasure and an awful addiction
I want to quit you, but I burnt down rehab.

The Worst Kind of News (7/10/13)

I got some horrific news from one of my best friends today. 

Fingers whiten on the phone.

They say that with bad news, your world comes crashing down around you.
And it does.

Glass shards streak across my face and slice my skin
Before you’ve even finished the sentence.
I know what you’re going to say.
The dark shadow at the back of my mind rears its head
And I see its face once
And once is too much.

You’re not worried. Well, you’re trying not to be.
You’re casual, airy. I know it’s wrong
Because your voice is low
And there’s a wobble in your tone
And you change the subject before I can ask

Are you going to be OK?

I don’t pray for much, only when I need to.
Your God is different than mine but I always thought He was the same
We write prayers with different addresses but they end up being delivered to the same house.
He’s being overloaded with mail right now.
For the first time in a month it’s not about me.
It’s about you.

You tell me not to worry but I can’t stop
If you’re not going to be scared, then I am.
Because the word cancer has arrived fashionably late into my life
Should’ve known he’d turn up sooner or later.
One in three, could’ve been me.
But it was you, and I hate me for it.