Lines-Calumny

Most things in life aren’t clear cut; everything can be taken in so many ways that the lines which you always assumed were there to protect you are blurred. 

I’m nothing special; you could find millions of people like me out there, if you looked hard enough. I’m the one in the corner who never says a word, the one who shuts out the world because she’s scared of what they might say. Or of what they wouldn’t say, petrified that they would say nothing at all, that like so much else they would remain a mystery, something unsolved in a world where even the clearest of lines -the ones you think you know are set in stone- can blur and break with even the slightest pressure.

I look at the lines, taken in by their beauty, allow them to wash over me. Engulf me, until i see nothing but clear cut and clinical whiteness.

Plainness.

It matches me really.

Oh How Cliché

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

No, because you know it’s meaningless really.

All these disillusioned images of perfection

Have no meaning in the real world.

Real people, with real love,

They don’t need dramatic clichés.

They say that you aren’t perfect,

But in my eyes it seems you are.

Your imperfections make you you

And it’s you that I love.

It seems no-one else understands,

But my heart knows it is true.

Broken nose, slightly skewed to one side,

And the hint of stubble on your jaw,

Simply adds to your rugged allure.

Thick dark eyebrows simply contrast with,

The dazzling electric blue of your eyes,

They hold me spellbound, transfixed.

The glimmer in those eyes when you think,

Of something naughty or forbidden,

The cheeky glint that let me know.

And the way you refuse to laugh properly,

Cover your mouth and won’t let me hear

You laugh because you think you sound silly.

But you make me laugh with your crazy tales,

The insane things you have done,

They seem to make you come alive.

You make me smile with sweet things you say,

Even a simple I miss and love you,

Will always brighten up my day.

It’s the small personal details that matter,

The private jokes and fond memories.

Yes we have had a lot of problems,

And at times we didn’t think we would make it.

But we have come out stronger in the end,

And at the end of the day that’s all that matters.

So I won’t call you my prince charming,

Or my knight in shining armour.

Because after all those things mean nothing,

Empty words spewed by many.

I love you is much more meaningful,

And I know you feel the same.

For My Best Friend

Friendship is a beautiful thing, a special kind of love – everlasting. It makes you laugh, makes you cry and gives you so much happiness. And this is what I share with you.

 

You never fail to make me smile when I’m down. I know you’re there for me; you never let me down. When I think of all the stupid, insane things we’ve done over the years I’m in hysterics within seconds. All the good times that will always stay with me.

 

We’re not going to be together at uni and I’ll miss you so much! You can expect at least ten emails a day off me – a product of my constant procrastination. There’ll be moaning ones and “I HAVE SO MUCH WORK!!!” ones and funny ones, but I know now there’ll be ones that make me cry as I type them. Because I look into my future and it’s a darker place because I don’t see you with me, constantly making me smile – you’ll be on the other side of the country in all likelihood.

 

Who will I moan at now about whatever whoever’s done now? Who will I be homesick with? What am I going to do when I need a hug and there’s only one person I want it off; the one who never fails me: you? And what will I do when I want to be stupid and reckless and relive some of the more crazy times we’ve had? Of course, the totally mature pillow fights come into it at some point. Or quiet times? Movie nights? Random talks that last till 3am?

 

So this is for you, my best friend.

 

Thank you for everything you’ve helped me with, everything you’ve given me. All the times we’ve shared together and will until we’re chucked to live hundreds of miles apart from each other. For want of a far less cheesy ending, I love you and I’m going to miss you so much.

A Metaphor

I’m a wave
              passing through
      going out
               rolling by

Come and watch me break
Jump over me
Run through me
Laugh when I crash at your feet
Stand over me and laugh

I am a wave
        stretching forth
   shrinking back
     going home

Build me up and play me with your hands
Use me to get high on your board
Use me, you need a lift?
Come and see me fade and die with the wind

But you’ll hate me when I dredge up old things from the past
Leave them on the neat beach of your mind
Or when I overwhelm you and leave you falling, spluttering for air
Choked by my bitter taste and blinded by my poisoned sting

I am a wave
              I am a wave

Dream Team

We’re the exclusive troops of youth
Diluting vain loops of untruth
And proving that you don’t have to
Hit someone just to be new

Skipping triple grids and tripping
Rolling third rate cigs
And always ditching for the kicks
But never catching what we miss

And you’ll see what you don’t believe
See we’ll be who you can’t achieve
You’ll be dying of your disease
But we’ll be sleeping on the streets

While you can try this frame of mind
Your flight will never justify
The lie you find so hard to hide
Striving to be let inside

I Adore

There’s a heart for sale on top of a hill,
wrapped up in brown paper for you
I’d a heart was mine but it’s broke in time,
held together with hope and glue
Is there a heart that beats in between clean sheets,
in that cavern you call your chest?
If not then you’ll find you can always have mine,
it’ll carry you ’til your rest
But when a stranger walks past, looks to me, asks,
why no fire dances in my cold eyes
I’ll be able to say that i gave it away,
and you, you won’t look half surprised.

So Scared

(Another song turned poem)

Our life was I thought

Never ending bliss

Under your spell caught

Bewitched by your kiss

For you hard I fell

Smack bang on my face

Didn’t need time to tell

In your arms the place

I wanted to be

I needed to be

 

Thought you felt the same

But now I’m so scared

When I hear your name

Oh so very scared

You will leave me here

Surrounded by fear

Fear of your rejection

Of my obsession

So scared you will go

So scared you don’t know

 

Recently it seems

My face no longer

Occupies your dreams

Makes you feel stronger

Just like it used to

When every thought was me

You don’t have a clue

What you’re doing to me

How I want this to be

How I need this to be

 

Thought you felt the same

But now I’m so scared

When I hear your name

Oh so very scared

You will leave me here

Surrounded by fear

Fear of your rejection

Of my obsession

So scared you will go

So scared you don’t know

 

I haven’t spoke to you

For a long while

And the worry it grew

No trace of my smile

Heart’s being broken

By worry in my mind

Dunno how I’m copin’

Do the thing that’s kind

How you feel I need to know

How you feel I want to know

 

Thought you felt the same

But now I’m so scared

When I hear your name

Oh so very scared

You will leave me here

Surrounded by fear

Fear of your rejection

Of my obsession

So scared you will go

So scared you don’t know

 

Love me or leave me

It’s your choice now

Please believe me

I can’t live without you

 

Thought you felt the same

But now I’m so scared

When I hear your name

Oh so very scared

You will leave me here

Surrounded by fear

Fear of your rejection

Of my obsession

So scared you will go

So scared you don’t know

 

Only Second Best

(This was originally a song but thought I could put it up as a poem)

On days like this, it seems to me,

Through these red bloodshot eyes I see,

I’m not who you want me to be.

At times you feel so far away,

By my side I want you to stay,

With me, forever and always.

But do you feel the same?

At times I think you don’t…

 

When I’m with you, you think of her,

In your mind it’s always her,

In your heart it’s always her,

Just a little bit of me,

Ever so occasionally.

But in my heart I know,

I’m only second best.

 

Feeling so stupid on the inside,

Cos you make no effort to hide,

That all your promises were lies.

Your love for me is such a fad,

Despite promises I’ve had,

And me knowing your influence is bad.

Do you know what truth is?

At times I think you don’t…

 

When I’m with you, you think of her,

In your mind it’s always her,

In your heart it’s always her,

Just a little bit of me,

Ever so occasionally.

But in my heart I know,

I’m only second best.

 

Slowly pieces of my heart disappear,

Taken by hate, jealousy and fear,

When I know your heart ain’t here.

Cos you loved her more than life itself,

You love her more than me and myself,

This paranoia is bad for my health.

Do you love me at all?

At times I think you don’t…

 

When I’m with you, you think of her,

In your mind it’s always her,

In your heart it’s always her,

Just a little bit of me,

Ever so occasionally.

But in my heart I know,

I’m only second best.

“The best fake years of our lives”

Take a look at the Downs at exactly 3:48pm, Monday to Friday and across the sea of cars (filled with year sevens and anxious mothers) even those who pride themselves on being able to the read the bottom line of the alphabet at the opticians, may feel the sudden need for an emergency eye test. Nope you don’t have double, triple or perhaps more accurately fiftiple vision and no genetic cloning has not become legal, it’s just Alti Girls.

Why is it that once we have overcome the fashion faux pas of the “buttoned up blazer” and rucksack ensemble we embark on a new conquest; the orange skinned, “bling” bag, one inch skirt delight? Perhaps it’s Look’s reoccurring look of the week or maybe we are aspiring for our own Aryan style race, whatever the cause do we really believe that patchy hands, oversized handbags and flashes of knickers will make us part of the elite cool crowd whilst winning the heart of that Alti guy (who you met last Friday on Hale’s bowling green)?

I bet if we approached Boots for a school discount they would quite willingly oblige, for we must be responsible for at least 99.9% of their fake tan sales. Applied on a Sunday night we may start off the week radioactive but by Friday the sweet essence of value tan has disappeared and we look more sun kissed than pure tangerine. However after saving up a week’s worth of dinner money the cycle begins again with the purchase of a second bottle of fake bake. But why do we waste at least six pounds of our ten pounds weekly allowance on a liquid that makes us resemble an umpa lumpa? I mean i agree that it is a lethal weapon in deterring that weird tramp from sitting next to you on the bus and a must have for irritating mum with the stained sheets however do we really believe that an orange glow makes us more beautiful?

As for those bags we insist on lugging everywhere, the ones that are plastered with diamantes and quite often resemble the material of my nana’s curtains, why do we bother? I mean very few of us have to carry the kitchen sink to school and does anyone really know who Paul is? Yes I know he is the guy who owns that boutique but really who is he? He could be a notorious drug dealer for all we know and yet we insist on parading around his bags. If these quilted delights are what it requires to become popular then quite frankly I would rather opt out.

Finally, the skirt or arguably the belt, yes it is a must in completing the look in which every Alti Girl wants to attire. But when they say less is more I don’t think they have walked behind a girl up the tree top stairs. Whilst we all cringe at those shots of celebs snapped flashing in the pages of Heat don’t we realise that we must all do it at least once a day? If we were celebs the paparazzi would have a weekly shot of our knickers so why don’t we hoist down the belt?

I’m not having a go, I mean I was once one of the orange skinned, bling bags, one inch skirt delight worshippers or at least I like to think I was. But trust me (it’s proven) the orange look is not good, Paul will never show you any gratitude for the purchase of his bag,( apart from maybe a price rise) and whilst we have no risk at the paparazzi getting that shot do we really want everyone seeing our knickers?

Just For Tonight

This fight has been going on for so damn long. We’re both tired of this, the constant bickering, a gradual crescendo to a myriad of yells and screams. I can’t even remember what started it tonight. I never can. Because it’s every night now. Why are we still kidding ourselves that the broken fragments of this relationship can ever reform that whole? The beauty that our love once was is shattered beyond repair. Yet we both cling on, desperate, to the last shreds of pretence that this could work. I know you can see the resignation in my eyes…resignation and mourning. Mourning for what we both know we’ve lost.

 

But I refuse to go just yet. We can pretend one more time. We can pretend that we are friends tonight. Just give me one more chance to lose myself with you, one last time.

 

There are tears in my eyes as I grab you. My tears wet your cheeks as I kiss you. You know what I want, what I need. One last night of warmth before I have to go. You have never looked more beautiful. My once rose-tinted vision of you has changed. The constant anger has changed it red, but tonight, for one night only, I see you in shades of blue. Melancholy. Yet beautiful. Mine, for the final time. Never again will I experience this perfection, and falling asleep on your chest, never have I wanted to move less.

 

But then it’s morning. And we know it’s over. But I will never regret last night.

 

The perfect way to say goodbye.