fading memories
I remember grass
the softness on the sole of my feet
I remember not
the childhood
ending
I am sorry for wasting your time
I think my fear of exposing my weaknesses, my hesitance to explicitness, ultimately hampers my progress as a writer. It consequently prevents you from understanding my message, thus wasting a life conceivable, your and mine; both
a.g.a.i.n (prequel #1)
my heart is beating faster than normal
I am staring into the screen, scrolling up and down a
document; a specification of some kind,
click-click – a paragraph highlighted
click – highlight gone
click-click; click
scroll up – scroll down
my heart is beating faster
click
I cannot show it affecting me
click
scroll
click-click
scroll
It must have been about an hour later I realised I could no longer breath…
I have to go now – flight mode on
I stood up, turned left and walked out the office. I did not shed any tears but only because I filled my head with the mantra “there is a bottle of red waiting”, that kept me going. I cannot recall how I got home but I suspect the usual route was taken. The decision of what to do next was fast approaching.
a.g.a.i.n
I am killing the baby again
throwing out the bath water and with it
my remaining hope of happiness.
I am drowning myself again
uncorking and refilling the bath tub
with a 2015 Bordeaux, a decent year.
I am almost in tears again
failing once more to remain balanced
in the knowing I was right.
I am lost again
no longer in control
of tomorrow,
I fear.
at night she speaks
at night she speaks to me
through dreams of better days ahead
I awake and make my plans to match
by dusk I doubt
she ever was
sincere
I fathom not
Oh Hellas, the face I see before me
such beauty,
its simplicity evoking my darkest fears
though humbling as it be
I fathom not how I can proceed
to meet the morning
without her
near
shiver
the desire
youth
the vivid image
lost
a warm beach / cold water / manhoodboyhood shrinking
thoughts of
them
no longer linger like they used to
shiver
I am ageing, with rapid pace
but you cannot tell; never
from this baby face
I wear,
youth I portrayBut truth be told
my heart be young
in innocence I walk
through life
thus showing my true age
plainly
I reveal more
than I would like
clearlyWishing the old adage was true
certain features only come with age
I still await the day
my looks reflect
my age
certain features only come with age – 19/8/2017
