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Month: March, 2012

Second Best

I’ll take second best

if it means I can still be close to you,

be the recipient of your smile,

share with you my dreams.

I shall never forget

what passed between us.

Such words, such deeds,

cannot be roughly rubbed out

like a misdrawn line.

Not for me anyhow.

Yet second best does not feel

like the runner pipped to the post

or the teddy deemed slightly,

just slightly inferior to the doll

by an indecisive child.

I have been given a glimpse

of the riches of Timbuktu

and then endowed with a shadow.

A shadow with a lingering scent

of despair, lost hope.

But you have the reins my dear.

I could plead, beg with my fragile soul

but I do not wish to see my heart

splintered, smashed by your tongue.

I know to you I could only ever be

second best.


New Year’s Morning

I couldn’t sleep that night.

Not with your arm draped across my body

like a heavy vine, making my heart quicken.

I could not sleep knowing what that grey,

new year dawn would bring. Furrowed brows,

stolen glances, an awkward kiss on the cheek.

I still cannot sleep at night.

I feel your touch, I hear your promises.

(Promises quickly retracted.)

I sleep instead in the noisy hours of the morning

when I have no memories of you.

You’re always gone by then.

Seven Days

We missed one another by a week.
A hair’s breadth in this universe.
Our young bodies must have been aware of one another though,
when our mother held you close, as only a mother can.
Felt each other through our mother’s skin
under which I was warmly cocooned.

I feel as though we met.
I often imagine you close.
Wonder if you’d like me. Whether we’d argue.
You are distant in that bitter, dank necropolis,
deep down in your lonely bed.
No, I will never find you there.

My imagined memory of you,
My fantasy you, arrives unwarranted.
When a perfect note makes those fine hairs on my arms bristle,
When a strangers act of kindness gives me the faith I crave.
That is when I find you.
I find you when it matters.


Hi there,

I’m just a twenty-something graduate who has a strange niggling sensation to try my hand at poetry. It’s all a work in progress and any critique is greatly appreciated!

Lone Wolf.