Saturday, 3 January 2015


Fear, the palpable kind
The truth was always what I hid from in this mockery of my heart
And in the end it was always you
The weakest link in the gold chain
The only scar that still bled
The mark of my weakest moments
And twenty four months and fourteen days after
I'm still running in circles around the cages in my brain
where I'm trapped.
The walls bear your name and your face is the protagonist
in the plot of every dream
And I have


After so many years
You get a little tired of dancing and dallying
Around the bushes
The incessant tiptoeing of masked faces across the chessboard
The white tiles making the bloodstains seem brighter
The endless words my tongue refuses to articulate
the practiced kind.

I lost you.
Two years and three months ago.
And I've spent that much time minus six months believing you were the same person.
And despite my laughable naivete , I still believed
Until 25 minutes (and a heartbeat less) ago

But  now your words have spilt forth
across this battle zone
And for once they weren't controlled lies
At least now I can stop being mercilessly played
Your mask falls and so does my faith.
Check and mate.