Cherry

Who am I?

Beautiful sometimes as the light scrapes round dusting away the shadows of what I can't tell you

He Loves Me. Me.

His eyes striking the exterior of my worldliness, His love penetrating my soul, the inner me salved by His concern

blue gunpowder starring

there is slow dynamite watch the blue gunpowder starring flashes and bursts beyond the road we drive along in separate cars it is a shared moment a controlled

That early morning cup of tea

Sip the nectar, savour, drain; feel it seeping through the brain – mist dispersing, movement oiling, focussing for fun and toiling. Diffusing through to every part,

Loneliness

It’s not just a state of being It becomes a lifestyle More like a reality You live in it You sulk in it You fight to stay away from it But it always gets to you

No More Apologies

I could say I’m sorry till I’m blue in the face Sorry begins to lose its meaning Sorry is a just a word It’s a not an accurate depiction of my feelings My feelings towards those I hurt

The Prophet Of Loss

Written in Barcelona, this is a story about a man. a hotel room, a shaving mirror and the way we often see ourselves.

My Pain

My pain My pain is not centered My pain leads to destruction My pain is stronger than any man My pain is unsettling My pain is dark My pain is disheartening My pain puts up a fight

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