I miss the days

I miss the bad days

the way you hate me

your words reverberate around my head

we are still in conversation

though in my imagination

sex and beastly claws

the way you wanted more than I could give

I cannot live

without thorns a rose wouldn’t be a rose

I am torn our love wasn’t really love without pain

I am just a blood stained hand holding on

a rose

it’s thorns like all your angry words cutting through skin

love is a tragedy we are all flawed within

yet romantic attachment

when it works

can heal the heart and make it beat like it’s going berserk.

Waking up

Waking up on a cold brown leather sofa

Not knowing who I am

a man and women ask me how I am?

I ask them if they have any children?

they say no

then a child comes in from the voids light

it’s her birthday

she says I will never drive as knight rider plays on tv

then she asks for a sister and two appear

more birthday girls although one older and one younger

Years on I went to that house

a girl not the same one says something terrible happened here to you

because of you

I hear it in the whispers on the telephone

I see visions of the man being arrested

how did I get home?

memories fragmented

this waking dream won’t relent

I am prevented from seeing what happened