It won’t bleed if it doesn’t beat and so
can’t excrete what you are hoping for.
It doesn’t break if it can take a
smashing and remain unmarked.
It doesn’t matter, it won’t shatter if you
give it back, unwanted.
Because you can’t hurt a plastic heart
There is a view of reality from up here
and I beg the birds to swoop
some down to you, silently
through painted eyes.
They fly your perimeter,
mocking my prison that you lovingly built. Whispering,
squawking, haunting my true self.
She has the saddest green eyes that bleed with a
wisdom,
trickling tears of knowledge
back down to you.
Your imagery remains unstained
as they’re consumed, that merciless
wind, drop by drop. Gone.
Eternally never yours.
She is dying.
She’s fucking dying.
Slowly, horrifically.
And I am too high, too
busy twirling for you, in time to your
mechanical music, to be able to
perform a miracle
I regret with every breath
that I am
not more beautiful.
Beautiful enough to enchant
you,
back to me.
If only I had been more loveable
you might have stayed,
despite my faults…
My inability to show
adoration.
I still adore you now,
after all this cruel,
relentless time.
Silently,
desperately.
Constantly.
And,
somewhere,
You breathe and
laugh and
live and
love.
Without me.
If I had just been more memorable,
Or at least,
Not quite so forgettable…
You might have given me that
second thought.
I have ghosts of feeling and laughter
that are jealous of your potency
as you still linger here,
In the air.
My own scent – lost to times gone by.
But I am too late to
be anyone
but myself.
Sick with this useless love.
It seems I am missing you
Terribly.
And I’m finding that I desperately
wish I was someone else.
That someone that you wanted.
Mimi Heartache- Michelle Spiziri
It hurts like a bitch,
that twist of the knife.
You’re certainly no surgeon.
Incapacitated
by unadulterated heartache.
You take your time
in the execution.
And I can do nothing
but watch.
A sight for the sorest
of eyes.
But I am too proud
to beg or to cry.
And so?
I bleed quietly.
Mimi Heartache- Michelle Spiziri
Incapacitated
by unadulterated heartache.
You take your time
in the execution.
And I can do nothing
but watch.
A sight for the sorest
of eyes.
But I am too proud
to beg or to cry.
And so?
I bleed quietly.
He knows she can’t.
Enduring frustration.
Gypsy girl chained up in an Apron.
They try to mesh
without success.
The souls refuse to re-connect.
True love waits?
This woeful pair.
He perplexed and she despairs.
That strong willed child
now a woman and wild.
Itchy feet cannot be tamed.
He loved her ways,
rebellious Saint.
One look at her eyes could liberate.
He,
No longer impressed,
Tries to suppress.
Complicated metaphors
are all she brings
to his table.
A pressure point reached.
To you I bestow?
A commitment made
to seperately grow.
The table is set
for a life
of regret.
She just has no appetite.
Confusing times,
No rule to rhyme.
Concoction of all that’s grey.
Where is my Love?
My flames in his.
Somewhere he sits and plays.
I hear him now
a dream away.
He smoulders by the shore.
But as I reach the water’s edge,
The music plays no more.
Down Lovers’ Lane
sun and moon clasp hands.
Gin sipped to pass the time.
His voice so clear,
A murderous ache.
To search and not to find.
I’ll wait a life
to see those eyes,
Dancing, flickering desire.
All that was
to a needle of death.
Never again to burn with fire.
Welcome to G&T!
Gin and Tulips 