Three men, does that make me a lady?
Stop the backspace addiction. Just let it go and write you say, not as easy as it sounds. I wanted to update about Australia and all of the amazing music I heard and the wonderful company I kept. Now I just want to keep it all in my memory box. I went for a cup of tea on Friday and fell into a fitful slumber on the sofa, music playing on the stereo and lights on. I wanted more conversation but I only spoke to my dreams.
It is difficult to believe the animosity that was between me and him less than a year ago is given to the past. The way we would pass when going into the studio those few times, Marianne forever bemused at our stoic silences and averted glances. Now a quiet peace has seeped in. I will be going to see Nick perform at the end of the month in Bristol, continuing my friendly fandom tour. In the meantime I am heading into London at the end of the week to meet up with him for dinner.
My brown valentine came, torn down the center and with scorched edges. The water marked spots I will imagine to have come from his fallen tears and not the urine spray used to put out the flames after he lit it with his cigarette. I am happy to have someone to share the blame for the thrown bricks. They will never know what hit them.
A new friend, or maybe just a twisted interest in the stories we may write together, that speaks the truth. I may have had my poetry published but I still have a lot to learn. I do know the truth of the ocean and the secrets it keeps for those that toss the evidence to its waiting waves. The dump, how common of you, and like the rats that feed there, we will find nourishment and treats beneath the decay. I stopped making sense when it comes to you. I hope that you will make it down to Dorset for tea or I will see you when I am in London.
For a special one, one that needs the poppies to sleep so demonic fairies can take what they want. Pull up that gingham dress and find the cotton white panties underneath.
Your tiara of rhinestones and chipped silver plated plastic will crown your head when you wake.
February 14. Valentines Day. Today I celebrate self-love, my hands will give the sweet treats, and the heart beating faster from the words I moan, whispers for my ears alone. Cry me a river of love so I can bend over at its bank and watch my reflection below me. Like Narcissus a flower will bloom when I disappear.