August Unhappiness

though I'm with good company
I can't help but feel so alone
and if asked I couldn't say
of a moment where I didn't know
and own my August unhappiness
the way a dog buries a bone
I try to hide it and not let it show
but I guess like cancer it grows
until it overthrows my warm smile
and for a short while
makes my mood banal

I can disappear in night's darkness
lost in the Island's woods and forest
with no hope as light to guide me out
the only escape from this slope of doubt
seems the tired sleep to which I climb
being stoned and awaiting till in my dreams I find
the homely content of being unconscious
and not having to remember love's solemn silence

Victim Of Thinking Of You

I was victim to thinking of you earlier today
consistent with the way I'm plagued by every day
in the same wistful fashion my memory disintegrates
and I can't recall why this distance we decided to instigate
the greatness of the saint I made you daily proliferates
and you remain the benchmark of every relation I make

mistakes are a learning curve though ignorance bliss
this reunion confuses me as to why I ever did think
we could be apart and be alright and I'd so often not miss
the feeling at the start, the trouble and fight, and our final kiss
I'm sure now your taking me under your wing from the beginning
was proof and foresight of the sting this would embed at the finish

even when told and though we see it in cinema and hear it in song
there's no belief in the feeling until too late you see your wrong
I never understood how someone could feel love's harm so much
nor did I ever recognise till consumed by it being romantically stuck

...fuck

The Evening Tide

upon last night's goodbye I turned around to wave
but you had already taken yourself swiftly inside
and finally I was sure our love had slipped away
like a message in a bottle thrown with hope to the evening tide

now the delicate lengths of your arms towards me
are no longer open, bared wide and outstretched
the once desire inspiring idea of your lips on mine
a thought that riddles me bitter cold and seems far fetched

I wished silently that once between us great things
to be finally put right didn't have to come to an end
I cry through nights how if only some care and attention
with consideration to our relationship you'd lent

without regret I guess we must resign to grow older
more different, apart and take it in stride to find it harder
how cliched it sounds, never-the-less the memory overwhelms
of the time where for awhile in your palms you held my heart

as I watched myself in the waves watch the bottle wash out
I comprised of excitement, wistful thought and tired doubt
what lies ahead, what near or distant shores unexplored lay?
and if one recovered our message of our love what would it say?

The Balcony

I didn't want her to leave tomorrow
nor I tonight, so I tried to hide my sorrow
lighting up I smiled knowing she must go
but time on that balcony always feels like home
as she's said before there's been instances though
when her friends had journeyed there all alone
and it creeps on me the instinct to stow
every memory of this place before she goes

silently I wished the moments would slow down
the words and gestures linger just a little longer
the night finally over I trudged up the driveway
consigned near tears in hindsight's sleepy haze
too tired to cry I cringed needing to confide
sighing that not yet and perhaps not for awhile
would I feel strong enough without her near by
still, in my mind our love of best friendship gets filed

Bitter, Midweek, Midwinter Weather

a young couple coalesced by the season to lovers
lie together; clutched tightly, cuddled close to each other
as they hold up in hiding beneath the sleep stained covers
they welcome the morning by warming up one another
insulated in their familiar abode of pillows and sheets
their sleepy eyes meet with a greeting that says this is nice

all is still to the looming sleet of snowing work hours
that buries them in obligations of leaving the house
but held within the bitter, midweek, midwinter weather
stays the undefeated fight by those inclinations for better
to stay indoors where the heat rises from old ducted vents
embracing that not quite awake of comfort's reluctance

the world moves on and the rain on the roof continues it's patter
contained within the walls and held by the ceiling is everything that matters

A Time And Place For Love

love is honesty
to say
you were right
for me
for a time
and place
but I can't help
contexts change
or the way
disaffiliation
can make relationships
a cage
and at the end
of the day
only happiness
pays.

If it's within
this manner
you wish to stay
I'm afraid
history alone
is not enough
to sustain
any emotion
and only
the patterns
and motions
of the past
will remain
then what truth
for any
is left to gain.

There Is No Exemption From Hurting

what escape is there from emotional debt
with this tired, repetitive self-resignation
what kind of life for love can held or kept
in truth or sleuth by such eternal waiting

I find I'm plagued by continually making
my conscience a hostile place by churning
and spouting out concerned, costly behaviour
instead of seeing situations with discern

is there a way to purchase exemption
from the hurt and heartache romance exerts
on these others in the process of my learning
what I don't want and haven't yet earned

I've tried both best known approaches
playing the game and honest poaching
still, no method seems better working
and no one's able to give proven coaching

I find myself waiting and taking my time
to find the person who I'll know is just right
and what I'm most afraid of is life slipping away
then when I'm done trying and debating realise

it's too late to have made up my mind

The Unfairness Of Disparity Of Caring

we sat in silence whilst driving towards the city
on the south eastern freeway; headed for the station
the plan: for her to catch a V-line train from Flinders
that would take her back home to the country

the red setting glare turned my view to squinting
as I watched the time on the dashboard clock tick
keeping in mind I couldn't afford making her late
but days like this for a while I have been missing

bend by bend we looked upon an orange horizon
the understanding mutual between us of keeping quiet
whilst we were silent the radio -turned up- played
and we soaked in the setting sun of another Sunday

during the ride I decided to try and recollect
the events of the last two and current weekends
thinking of the fun we had but what message I'd sent
wondering how this came about for such lack of intent

neither of us mentioned of our obvious thinking
about how far this kissing interest may run
or dared to state the evolving, complex nature
of what late last night and this morning was done

after parking the car I walked her up those steps
and we laughed at our final kiss and the awkwardness
said our goodbyes, farewells and I left her there
when she realised she'd cared more than me, I was aware;

in her heart and mind our departure would seem unfair
and for me: I might not find such niceness and honesty again

Meeting Him

I saw the guy walk up behind you
he started to slow, curiosity showing
then his hand brushed your shoulder
and I smiled knowing exactly who he was
it suddenly struck me as funny
when at your out loud exclamation
of such the awkward introduction
you became socially dysfunctional
furthermore; his nervous, polite
yet protective acknowledgment
of my presence was simple and refined

the most satisfying moment though
was confirmation of my modest truth
that when compared to myself
he's not nearly as attractive or cool
now, I know you're not superficial
but the meeting does beg inquisition
into in him what you find appealing
and decided was worth persisting
I left glad at your leaving me
because your style's now plain to see
and you only made my future easy
for forgetting all of our maybes

Oh, The Irony Of This Role Reversal

My courtship conscience convicts me with relationships; though the rules are strict there's no placings - third, second or first. Just two defendants who're destined to lose confidence in the fairness and worth of new love when it's caught and aborted at conception and not given birth.

Our continual flirting brings out of me my soul's selfish ways for the worst. Who would have thought these roles could ever be so easily reversed? That I'd curse the lines I tried to sell to girls I wanted time over and again? Now I know the feeling all too well; of hurt that burns yet persists to pretend it has no right to yearn, yell or be defensive.

For mixed signals sent from the beginning - there is no quick fix, simple or easy mend. Just the empty question of how to survive the detached mindset that stops remembering and instructs a heart's hope towards an end.

I fell into a state of mind, which lacked respect for proper actions and her perception of typical intentions. She's the only one I've known to get it right and ironically this time I don't have to fight. What I don't like about myself is; though I tried to be kind my honest plight must be the opposite of my usual strive.

Sigh.

Beat Up Patent Leather Boots

buckled to the side with laces tied knee high
your beat up patent leather boots climb
and hold barely still your thin legs in black tights
on two inches of stiletto heel wry

tapping; you step along the floor boarded corridor
your breathing heavy between the steady clacking
in a rhythm of panting to a backing track of echoes
time slows down with the weight of your sighs

you're leaving behind the rubble of a manor
in which your grandiose romance resided.