Remember Me Tonight (Poetry)

When the night
is
At last

Silent and still,

 

Look upward
To
The stars
Hard and Cold.

And
Whisper
My 
Name.

Another Piece

How many times had she found herself here, hundreds or thousands? She lost count long ago. Through it all nothing here had changed. The walls empty and cold, the mirror reflecting nothing, its silver surface flawless and not for the first time she realized she had passed through the days of her life having left no impression. Just a shell full of sorrow and regret slowly disappearing into the fog of forgetfulness.

I finally found my song…

Sometimes it’s not how much you write or what it’s about, the only thing which matters is having wrote anything at all.

For far too long I have had thoughts and ideas tumbling through my mind only to have them turn to smoke and disappear before reaching my fingers. I have all been searching for a song which reached deep into my heart to give my thoughts a power they have been lacking. An emotion too raw for conscience thought.

I finally found my song…

 

Origami Airplanes by Songs For Cinema.

With this song playing in the background I wrote the following.

 

‘All was silent. The stillness both comforting and disturbing. The room was small, just ten feet by ten. The walls a blank white and empty except for a full length mirror which hung opposite the single door. Soft light filled the space seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.’

 

It isn’t much but it is a beginning.

Know.

Silence falls, so heavy you fear it might shatter into a million pieces. Each razor sharp, leaving your soul in ribbons. Too late you realize you’re boxed in with no where left to turn, escape in not an option. Everyone has been pushed away until they have have forgotten your name and now, even if they could hear the calls for help, a finger would never be lifted.

Then the whispers begin as if they never left. They promise. They cajole. They curse. They condemn. They know what needs to be done.

And so do you.

Work In Progress (Snippet)

She always found her way to the fringe, hoping and dreading someone would notice her. In school it had been the back row in class, where she would slouch in the desk, feet almost touching the one in front of her, only participating enough so the teacher wouldn’t single her out. Walking the halls close to the walls to avoid touching or being touched, the sounds, scents, and motion swirling around her like a dark presence.