“Right,” He said, eyes roving over her with interest, “What can you bring to the marriage?”
She looked at him as if he were the only man in the room; to her, he was the very oxygen she needed in order to survive, “I will love you with every fibre of my being. Until I die, everything that I am will be yours.”
He nodded slowly, “Right… erm, but can you iron a straight pleat in formal trousers? It’s really an essential skill in a woman, you know?”
You say that I speak of (my) darkness too much.
With my heart stripped bare before your eyes,
my shadows a gift for the
Don’t you know that light that shines too brightly,
Every night, she read the same book.
It became her nightly escape; dancing into the world that she encountered on the crisp pages.
Until tragedy struck one stormy night.
Her dingy bedsit caught fire.
Everything was destroyed, except for a book of fairy tales that lay on the charred remains of the bed.
Pages scorched; it lay open as if it had just been read.
Except that, no body was ever found.
How I wish I could find you;
to somehow show you,
that I became all the things
that you told me,
I would never be.
I lay down my darkness.
When it calls,
I turn my back;
refuse the siren call of my escape.
in your eyes,
I see the only light that shines kindly on my
I wore a lifetime of shame
before I finally realised,
that the poisoned refrain you sang over me,
was birthed from your own fractured dreams.
—I walked in shame, until.