A Sunset

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(Credit: hdwplan.com)

It should be red, she thought, and turned towards the sunset.

But the clouds were lilac with a rosy lining. The sky was light blue then yellow, which turned into a deep orange at the horizon. As a plane drew a pink line across the sky, the blinding sun brought her a surging symphony of fond memories.

Her heart swelling, close to bursting, she closed her eyes and saw on the back of her eyelids a burning circle and the face of someone, whom she would have shared all her sunsets with, if only things had been different.

When the sun was halfway below the horizon, it finally turned red, and in its bloody light she shovelled the last spadeful of dirt onto the grave.

Not Forgotten, Just Gone

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(Credit: HeyKtupq on DeviantArt)

We met in the laundrette on Sedgwick Street. I don’t remember how our first conversation began, but I met her there every Thursday for almost a year. She brought a small bag of liquorice, which she shared with me while we watched our clothes tumble, and I brought bottle caps for her, after she told me she collected them.

She always stood up and on the balls of her feet, as if she were ready to run at any time. Once I asked her whether she liked running and she said: ‘I’ve become very good at it.’ and her eyes looked so sad, it made my heart hurt.

There was something feline about her. It was something in the fluid way she moved and how her eyes sometimes followed things, which weren’t there, or maybe I just couldn’t see them.

It’s not that I’ve forgotten her name, it’s just gone. Every time I try to remember it, I get a faint taste of liquorice in my mouth and my head goes empty. Her face has grown blurry too even though it’s only three weeks since I last saw her.

I hope she got away from whoever’s after her. I considered going to the police, but without a name or even a face, what are they supposed to do?

What am I supposed to do?

Carnival of Change

march_fire_poi_i_by_mrcbax-deviantart

(Credit: mrcbax on DeviantArt)

‘I just don’t think it’ll work out,’ she said, clutching her cone of cotton candy. ‘Sorry,’ she rose from the red and white striped bench.

‘Oh, I understand,’ said Tom although he did not. ‘So, err… I’ll see you around?’

‘Sure,’ she said, although her eyes and apologetic smile said ‘probably not’, and she disappeared into the crowd.

He watched the rainbow coloured horses bob up and down, while breathing in the popcorn and sugar roasted almonds. Through the music, he head a child screaming something about not wanting to go home, and he thought; ‘why not go to the fire show, now that I’m already here?’

They had roped off an area of the grass where they had put up some tall torches. On the other side of the rope were several rows of chairs. He was the first member of the audience there, so from the middle seat in the front row, he watched the performers fetch buckets of water. One performer caught his eye, as she test spun her poi. She was bald, had a snakebite piercing and a tattoo of a sun on her shoulder. She made him think that maybe it was time for a change. He had been through three relationships with a girl-next-door, maybe he was mean to be with someone more exciting than that. Maybe he was meant to be with someone wild and fiery. The thought grew on him as the seats filled up, and when the sun-tattooed woman spun her fire poi so that it looked like she had flaming butterfly wings, he was sure.

After the performance, he waited for everyone to leave the front row. Then he ducked under the rope. She turned just as he came close, and he took it as a sign, but he was not fast enough to get the first word.

‘You’re not supposed to cross the rope,’ said the woman with the sun tattoo.

‘Oh, yeah, I’m sorry, I know, but I was just thinking, maybe…’

She crossed her arms.

‘Would-you-like-to-get-coffee?’ he stumbled through the words.

She smiled. But it was not an accepting smile, and his heart sank before she began speaking.

‘I don’t think…’ she said.

‘You’re about to tell me you have a boyfriend, aren’t you?’ he said.

‘Girlfriend, actually,’ she said, ‘but thanks for the offer.’

He sighed and wondered why he had not just gone home to bed right after the show.

‘You were the one who watched us set up, right?’ she asked.

‘Yeah,’ he said. In fact, he should never even have gone to the show.

‘Come have a beer with us,’ she said.

‘What?’ He raised his head.

‘With me and the crew,’ she said, ‘you look like you need some people around you.’

As she took his arm and led him to the other performers, he thought that maybe, she really was the change he needed.

76 Broken Pieces

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(Credit: Broken by RCGraphics on DeviantArt)

Picking a piece of china from the floor,

Half a woman with a parasol in blue ink.

Would life be tidier if she were on her own?

Or emptier?

 

Picking a piece of mirror from the sink,

Six dark rimmed eyes stare out at her.

Would life be simpler alone?

Or lonelier?

 

Picking a shard of glass from her cheek,

She dabs at the blood with a Kleenex.

Would life be less painful?

Or more so?

 

Picking a shard of abuse from her mind,

She would never find anyone else.

Would the world be brighter?

Or would she be swallowed by the darkness?

79 Starvation

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(Credit: js4853 on DeviantArt)

A skull half covered in sand.

Daffodils bound with a blue ribbon.

Both in front of a beach house.

The waves crash, agitated.

He must have known that daffodils are her favourite flower,

But it did not help him.

The wind picks up, uncovering more bones.

She did not throw him even a single scrap.

And he starved.

Erica

erica-carnea-alba-ice-princess

(Credit: rhs.org.uk, Royal Horticultural Society)

Erica is a genus of flowering plants. It contains such species as Erica Carnea Alba, a heather plant also called “Ice Princess”. It flowers in the winter and early spring, even when it still has a blanket of snow.

I thought you were thawing.

A true lover’s knot is a knot composed of two intertwined overhand knots. It is heavy with symbolism and has been an inspiration to sailors’ wedding rings.

I thought we would be inseparable.

However, a true lover’s knot is also a moth, which lives in heathland. A moth, which eats the plants. And then it all makes sense. You were not thawing; I was just eating away at you. Gorging myself on you, until you became afraid I might consume you completely. It makes sense that you would find someone else, who will let you flower in peace under your snowy blanket.

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(Credit: suffolkmothgroup.org.uk)

Mirrors

Rose love letter

(Credit: vidokusr)

My Love,

 

Why did you leave me in the hall of mirrors? Were the distortions too much for you? Was it something I said? You forgot you white silk handkerchief.

Where did you go? I wandered the carnival for an hour, looking for you. The only one who remembered you was the fortune teller, and she just shook her head and told me to go home.

Your maid insists that you are not home every time I come to visit, but she keeps the flowers. She kept the handkerchief too last time I came by, I hope you did not think I meant to keep it from you.

Why do you not answer my letters? Please answer this one at least, if only to let me know that you want to be rid of me. The silence is unbearable. Yesterday I even thought that I heard your voice, but when I turned, there was only a mirror.

 

Yours, if you will still have me,

Albert

Pointless

He knew it was pointless. He read the text again:

“Come on, it’s WILD over here. And Betty is drunk ;)”

He shook his head; no matter how many kisses and sweet words she gave him today, she would be back to ignoring him tomorrow. Sighing, he pulled on a clean shirt. He should just stay home, forget about her. Doing his hair in the mirror, he told himself again and again how stupid he was, and on his way out the door he promised himself that if nothing had changed tomorrow, he would never even try to talk to her again.

And this time he meant it.

Just like he had last time, he thought to himself.

He yelled at the night sky before catching the bus.

Voodoo

Someone must have put a pouch under my porch or written my name and Saint George’s Park on a thigh bone, for I was drawn to the place even though my business lay across town. At the centre of a semi circle of gawking tourists I found her with a boa, a real one, around her shoulders and her bare feet seeming to float over the grass. There was something in her movements which called to me. She was comely of course, but it was more than mere lust. I loosened my tie as she moved close by me trailing the scent of lavender, and I wondered how fast I would have to run to make my appointment.

I was just about to turn, when she, having placed her snake with an assistant, began a new, wilder dance, flourishing many-coloured veils with sequins which flashed in the sun. The air caught in my throat as one of the veils writhed. Then it lunged, sinking its flashing teeth into my veins. I should have woven a protective spell or bought a charm, but by then it was too late, her venom was in my blood. I knew it as I clutched the silky veil in my hands, and I know it now; I must love her or die.

Lovestruck

Angel

I’ve fallen in love with an angel.

She blinded me with her beauty; her wings were so white it was as if they had a light of their own. I’m getting used to the cane, but it has made it more difficult to meet up with her in areas which I’m not familiar with.

She’s going back to heaven soon which is sort of the problem; it’s the reason I’m here. You see, I’d like you to kill me. Because then it won’t be suicide and then I might have a chance. And just in case it doesn’t work, could you give her my heart?

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