Hidden Behind My Back

reflection of me

there were two of us in
this dream
me and me
and people dressed in costume
they only saw me
but i saw you
watching
hearing what i say
you frown inwards
grimace at my words

the costume people never know

long days badly spent

the crowded warmth of the library
soon dispersed
leaving an akwardly frosty feel
three or four people
hunched over and unapproachable
perfect seclusion
voluntary - with reason

the packet
the plastic
the tiny twisty things
the time it takes to impatiently unwrap you
finding everything out
taking it to the extreme
no fear of breaking
the gift we momentarily adore
you, our shiny new toy

dreams polluted
hearing words you will never say
noticed movements
happened or not
slight touch
nod and smile

blind ignorance
furrowed brow
ignore
prevail
the loneliness persists

old emails

they make no sense

in orders that are lost and forgotten

broken scrambled words

hidden secrets, jokes and meanings

then the sad ones

they make you cry

remembering what you hid and shared with the world

how you tried to be brave

and how they tried to help

old emails

you cannot delete

You bore me.

Your voice is a continuous 

Monotonous drone

You bore me.

Drinking coffee,

seated opposite,

an empty chair,

in a cafe that’s not fashionable anymore.

Within the mess of paper and books,

lay,

huddled and curled in a ball the little lost girl.

Hiding here all along.

Waiting for us to come.

The screen is cracked

The keys are broken

You’ve gone begrudgingly back to pen and paper

Cursing the day

You though it was a good idea

To keep everything on a

Stupid computer 

the words fall against my skin

all those tiny drops

playing a sinful melody

that swarms around my eyes

i squeeze your fingers just tight enough

just to remind myself you’re still there

i let go first

and walk away

Not wanting us to get hurt

repetitive mornings

walking through town
touching shoulders with those strangers
you’re told to stay away from
sliding your hands over the rails
breathing in the toxic smell of the morning
fresh cold and borrowed breaths
ears blazing red, as the rain falls
smoke slips out of your lips, painting the world in front of you
the new artists
that no one cares for anymore

strand by strand

Your fingers run through my hair
i pull away
You cling on tight, and take a strand
You hold it up to the light
Smile then let it fall
i watch it, my eyes murky green
i see another piece of me falling
down beneath Your feet

We can’t take anything seriously anymore

We laugh and snort and chuckle and move

Feet kicking out to the sides.

You glare at us

‘why are you happy?’ your thinking

Bad things and misery, brings forth the intellectual beings.

The mortal men

That see through, to the dust covered haven we own.