I walked to the post box

giving away my freedom

no sense of relief

just a waste of postage

dreaming

cinder girl – the lack of tinder

those horse shoes never embraced your wickedness 

my fire never matched her solitude of silence 

the see-through bra a size too small for comforting

I saw it not coming, no

She only became a woman coming, though

we never merged our lifetime of opportunity

we only prayed – the next time 

we’d manage better – our destiny  

I am not going to write about 

the things going on in my life

They are not friendly; user-friendly 

nor appropriate for a place like this.

There was sun today, I sat there for a while

contemplating the heat beating down

the vacation of thought, sizzling.

I wrote a piece last night, tagged with darkness

No one will believe those lies thoughts

that burdens me, …

The illness is no choice of mine

no trendy stage to spread my doubts

My wishes are small, and narrow, personal thoughts 

of safety, stability and loving

embrace; my hero.

The outcome of my stubborn thinking 

neither dark nor light the past is the present

you can share your thoughts as I share my misgivings

either way, the mill always burns down

the lady virgin dies and our 

sombre plans ends up in

tatters

She who gave Life, the Holy Mother

The Seer without Sight
The Dreamer without Doubt

I let Her down; again

With years passing

The innocense kept on digging

Digging deeper; a skyscraper inverted

A prodigal son

Lost in a fire burning fierce

A fire burning, burning without

tears

The Mother calling, expecting

Their eyes closed; wondering

The pyre smoldering

Ember dying

Slowly