Standing steady and proud,
Clutching to the soil.
She unknowingly exists to bring peace and serenity.
The icy wind blows each tiny leaf,
And they all move in the same direction,
At the same time,
Like a chorus of ballerinas.

You're the centre of the rose.
I'm trying to find my way home to you
But I'm just spiraling round and round...
Getting lost in the crevices.

Cotton wool clouds.
The beautiful moon and stars shine through
regardless of the overwhelming force of
the cotton wool clouds.
The bonfire stirs.
Infinte sparks are sent on a
suicide mission
into the cold sky where
the fire of life is frozen
and they stop
reflecting.

I could not help but notice you
sitting alone by the fireplace
with your beer and a book
your suspenders slung over your strong, broad shoulders
some stubble growing sporadically along your flawless jawline
your bowler's hat atop your head
a wilbur smith novel in your hand

You slip inside of my temple
Having come to worship me
And I am filled and consumed by your prayer,
Until I find myself praying too.
Praying that you will not stop until I have been exalted.

We walked hand-in-hand to the ferry terminal,
where I knew we'd say goodbye for the last time.
You stopped in front of the ticket booth,
and looked me in the eyes.
You told me you loved me,

When I step into the light
I think of you with all my might
And try to imagine how you must see
The showcase of drama that has become me.

Each morning when I wake up from dreams

My smile is open and friendly.
And fake.

My laugh is loud and bubbly!
And bullshit.

Inside of me,
I'm carrying a lump,
A very heavy lump.

Inside of me,
A little girl screams,