The Eyes Of Eighteen

Eighteen year olds should know better
Choosing a life of beginnings and ends
Sweet innocent eyes
We said we could do it
Now we march for our sanity
To gain some reprise

It worsened much more within two long years
A pandemic to end us
We worked longer and harder
Lost in a frenzy to test us
Eighteen and innocent
Became open eyed and destroyed
Seeing what we saw
Left them broken and ignored

A lesson was learnt
One we should never have had
They said they would help us
Through the good and the bad
Eighteen has gone
Replaced by a shadow
Of a child that shouldn’t have witnessed
What their brains couldn’t fathom

Answers To The Silence

We sat there in silence,
Neither of us had any more to say,
All of our efforts
Led us to this place,
Silent and eerie
As if we were strangers
Who did not know the souls of one another,
Exhausted faces,
Rocking chairs, rocking thoughts,
One angled to the window
The other to the dying fire,
Never had eyes met with such defeated love.
Deep breaths take up far more space than silence,
Yet nothing more would pass our lips
Do I grow old in this seat?
Or move past the window glass?

I will see you anon,
I cannot live on breath alone

Say Your Prayers

I inhaled a deep breath, my eyes still closed. For the last 4 minutes I’ve heard every word they’ve said. The stupid idiots think I’m still passed out. This should be easy.

Where I hated to be restrained, this is not the first time I’ve had my hands bound and my mouth gagged like this. Ugh. Disgusting, they could have at least used a clean rag.
A small reflex hit the back of her throat. “Hold it. Hold it.” Anya stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop herself from making any noise.

The two men were burly which made her escape seem even easier. Sure, burley men were strong but lacked any sense of real agility or coordination lugging that body weight around. Especially after what she had planned.

Hanging from a wall behind her was a large piece of apparatus, the primary colours faded out after years of use, the silver bars shining through the worn paintwork. Anya flicked her eyes up for a second into the mirror in front, and took a mental picture, capturing everything backwards, but thrilling at the sequence that would commence.

Anya felt her muscles loosen, like they were preparing themselves for yet another training session. Her elbows fell softly towards the floor. She felt the men look over at her, rambling on quietly to each other about god knows what.
She let out a small groan. “This should do it” she thought. All her muscles tightened again, ready for them.

Man number one shot his head up and looked at man number two, worriedly. Man number two walked over to Anya, preparing a good fist ready to knock her into silence again.

In the split second he glanced back over to his colleague, Anya’s eyes flicked open.

“You’re going to want to say your prayers” she smirked with warning.

The Star of The Show

My darkened arena waits for me
Spotlights cast, sand perfected.
A moment we’ve been waiting for
They may think it’s me, but I’m only a part
The star of this show here, is Art
Where I squeeze my legs and hold him under
He leaps and soars around like thunder
The curve of his legs, muscular and taught
A magnificent creature in my grasp
Glistening coat and eyes excited
It wasn’t him, but me who was frightened.
He knows me well, and I know him
My gentle giant who jumps and spins
My world upside down on some occasions
I always go back to my obsession
My turn awaited to prove our dream
Me and Art, the perfect team
His movement moves me
Each obstacle overcome
Landing his legs to the sound of the drum
Our time is up
When will we know?
If Art had become the star of this show

The Whispers

The air was wet that evening and the cold wind that had been blowing for weeks, had turned sharp, like ice that night.
When they found her at dawn, her face was frozen to the side of the tree this time, her eyes glaring widely to the horizon. She was dead.

The stars shone in the sky, blinking with each gust of wind. The trees swayed. She had found a fascination in the night sky since childhood and it was always figured that this is why she went walking each evening all alone. She was warned not to go without company, she was warned not to go into the marshes, past that crooked tree. Few of us knew that she liked the darkest spot for the brightest stars.
3am, Lydia awoke, stirred in her dreams to follow the light flickering in the garden outside her window. The manor was a dark place with wide hallways and damp soaking through the walls in all of the disused rooms on her floor. The stench of the rotted wood kept to the west wing but it headed east inches each day. Ethel, the housekeeper, was too old to replace, and even if she did go, there would be no one who wanted to replace her, locked up with Lydia each day and night.
You see, Lydia had been “an odd child” since her childhood. The people in the surrounding towns had heard about the terrible incident that resulted in her little brother Adam’s, death. She ran home from the woods that afternoon and it was only when they all saw Adam’s small hanging limbs slung over the horse that same night, they turned their heads in fear of the little dark haired sister who didn’t speak a word.
Her father brought back his body from the woods. The townspeople lined up burning lanterns for his soul.
Lydia stared from her bedroom window, vaguely upset, but honestly feeling very little at all at the picture of Adam and her father. The house noticed. Whilst her mother and father despaired in the months after Adam’s death, losing nights and days to tears and suffering, Lydia heard echoes in the house and chased them all day down hallways and into rooms. The banging of her heavy run was heard all over in the house, except in the night.
At night Lydia was silent, her body lifting from the creaky floors, hovering above and pushed forward through the air as to not make a sound.
Her parents would awake to find her in the mornings sprawled out on the reception floor and even at times curled up on the west stairs. She was never rousable until later in the mornings, where she would get up and play. This pattern continued into her youth. Her parents were too distressed to notice.
It was a dreary November night when Lydia heard a whispering and followed a flickering light into her garden. Barefooted she walked to the marshes. A gust of wind lifted her and drove her body acceptingly over the wet marsh, her toes dragging along the mud, her toenails filling with blood. Lydia could not make a sound, it was forbidden by the whispers, and after all those years, the whispers were her friends.
The whispers showed her the stars, showed her the earth, and most importantly, they taught her how to feed it, her darkness. A consuming darkness that fed off the earth and starlight. A darkness that trusted the whispers and needed them to stay alive.
The whispers led her to the same place each night- the crooked tree and every morning she would wake up by that old crooked tree, making it home before the others would wake.
Adam was there, and a handful of other children that climbed out from its trunk each night, playing and spinning and running off to lure animals to the predator.
By dawn the branches of the tree would snap and break form, reaching out like a mother’s arm in every direction, pulling back her children from the woods. They screamed and Lydia watched them, their hands dragging through the wet grass, not being able to hold on, just as Adam couldn’t those years ago when the whispers asked her to bring him to them.
There was only one thing on Lydia’s mind at night, her hunger and her darkness. The tree would never move in day time, only when Lydia was there. Only when the whispers told her to go.
For some years Lydia felt the tree become a part of her. The whispers became the sound of her own voice. It was on a cold icy night that she finally let her body sink into the bark, and was encapsulated by the darkness completely, renouncing the last of her light.

Nothing changes

Life was easier back then.

Im not going to deny it

Life was almost thoughtless when I thought I was thinking about people

When I thought I was caring about people, I had my priorities completely misdirected

Thought I was only a child

Who knew?

I was reckless and fearless

Blinded by the medicine and blinded by a hopeful spirit

None of it was true

It was just the way things were supposed to be back then

I should have known better.

Pain now is worse

Knowing you lived as a dreamer and thought you knew what reality was

Only Now

Only now I know how special you were
Only now I miss your voice calling out to me
Pleads for help in the middle of the night
Night after night
Only now

Only now I miss your smell
Musky, slightly stale
Only now I inhale when I go into your room
Just to smell what’s left of you
Only now

Only now I dream of your hands
Holding mine as a child
Wishing I held them a bit longer as an adult
To remember what you felt like then
Only now

Only pictures of your face I see
Memories that will fade over time, naturally
Only now I feel the true extent of your love
And the true extent of mine
Only now

Ignorant Heart

Years of life given in the blitz of love
Sweltering in your arms, my heart encased
Protected and in comfort it was held
When all else seemed to fade away, you stayed.

Under a myriad of stars, each night adored
Intertwining branches of an oak, stood mighty
Two constants in time with sweetness of words
Held together by currents in an unsplitting sea.

Flashing back into view a new world surrounds
People gone, mad and away, I’m in a life deserted
Eyes of yours that moved astray
My heart surrendered in your grasp.

You loved me so fiercely, that I burned;
Now you’ll only be left with ashes
Time did change and you went with it
A soul is all that remains, my heart went first.