Catherine Heath
February 2015
I learnt to paper over myself.
High heels, like horses's hooves
Follow me over the bridge.
"I'm sorry,
I didn't mean to scare you."
So confident, it hurts––
Seduced by stardom;
The apple of their eyes.
Happiness erupts;
An explosion of stars.
Cards on the table––
Queen of hearts,
Ace of spades.
Possibilities float, like bubbles,
Over the rubble
Of eternity.
You're most like me in image––
We are like tunnels,
Deep and dark,
The wolf says,
And the buddha towers over us.
Celestial serpent,
Myriad face and eyes.
We are all floundering in darkness––
Help us seek the light.
Not what I signed up for,
But no one ever is.
We had some good times,
You and I,
Saw some awesome sights.
What once-loved,
Is now the hated beast.
The husky tenor of your voice,
Drops words so sweet,
Questioning the very being
Of you.
'I thought you were over it,'
Your naivety is charming,
And I'm sorry I screamed.
The fruit of the illusion
Must keep symbols transparent.
Boldly journey,
Past the stones,
Beyond anywhere that man calls home.
Haunting spectre,
Lilting memory––
Excitement throbs my veins
Like lost valentines.
Unopened letters hold most promise;
The only one we'll ever know.
(The tiger sleeps soundly)
So you'll confess your sins
Over drinks,
Charming the barmaid,
(Thinking you can see her soul)
But you'd be wrong.
Suppressed resentment
Results in anxious insomnia,
Laying awake in the hours
Leading up to dawn.
Listening to gentle sounds,
Of muffled discontent,
Building like a smouldering pyre
And you realise, they're your
Puppet friends,
Nodding sweetly,
But they don't really see you––
Not like I do.
Credit: Photo by Aldebaran S on Unsplash
