I Say That I Lost You

I say that I lost you

as though you were an umbrella

that I carelessly left on the bus

after the summer rain had stopped

Rivulets of Despair

She stood numbly watching the rivulets

Of water streaming down her legs

Feeling nothing but seeing everything

Watching the young innocent girl she knew

Waving goodbye with tears in her eyes

Scrubbing harder, her skin turning red

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I found an email
From you to me,
Back when
We were happy together,
But now
I wonder,
How you are,
What you’re doing,

Desserts is Stressed spelt backwards

http://delicatelittlebirds.files.wordpress.com/

Look at those cushions, they are not straight. The dust on this coffee table is inches thick. Clean it up now you lazy bitch you know mess is something I hate.

Do it now, go, move you make me feel sick.

Don’t stand there staring as if you were thick.

The kids have wrecked the bathroom,  move your arse and sort them now. I don’t give a damn about your aching head.

Where is my dinner I have been at work all day, have  you even heard a  word I have said.

Inner Child

 

Photo:  Google Images

Tossing and turning
in the lingering mugginess
of a summer’s night,
sleep is elusive.
Positioning myself in the
moonbeam pattern of light
playing across the bed,
I somehow now seem cooler there.