Colours on the shore – Carys.

I see it all clearly now. Fireworks

frazzled, burst into open –

ing times. I’m refusing to resist

those lukewarm blue ocean

eyes that turn to fire, desire

deep in my being. I’m thinking


of those early days, thinking

we’d never light the fireworks.

Now look, I’m juts pouring with desire,

aim straight. My heart’s open

for business. I remember fake ocean

days and wanting to resist


so much. Resist

oversharing. Oops. I’m thinking

you fell for me anyway. Ocean

waves don’t crash. We surf, fireworks

in the water. We can open

and clench the sand. Desire


in particles between toes. Desire

in sun-kissed skin. Resist

storms. Halt. Open

souls as the night creeps on. I’m thinking

they might show fireworks.

We should stay on the ocean,


basking in the safe ocean

to fulfil the dolphin desire

and watch fireworks

as rainbows. Don’t resist

the beauty of now. Thinking

of being open


to you. Playing my whole deck. Open

to us happening in the ocean

mounting. We’re thinking the same, the undesired

for others. You can’t resist.

Neither can I; it’s fireworks.


Once you open us, I promise fireworks

and thinking of the future desire

in oceans no-one can resist.


There She Is…

I’ve started baking again.

Not a lot,

but not a little either.

Distracting and nice,

both emotionally and sensually.


Seven hours didn’t seem so long.

It’s still not that long.

Last night,

hand in mine,

I know it was to stop the shoving,

pause the clumsy

–  if you can –

but we danced

and you screamed

and ears bled beautiful words.

I’m both Marshall and Lilly.


I have no idea if we’re long term.

I have no idea what the future is.

I have no idea who we’ll be.

I’ll hang on if you will…




Sometimes, you’re hard to grapple,

lights flicker, nobody home, candle’s thrill

on this side of dark. It’s taken

this long but I dove

into this version of lonely

in a world where you won’t initiate.


Words aren’t in the language we initiate

and it’s worse at night where I grapple

with silence. Lonely

was face-planting. Thrill

has died – dove

into the abyss. Taken


by the concept of being taken,

those unexpected moments of closeness. Initiate

my heart. Aim straight for the target. He dove

into the outer skirts. Crash landed. Clumsy. Clothes grapple

and I want it, I do but the thrill

isn’t there. Crashed. Burned. Lonely


in the same space. Lonely

with the concept of us. Taken

for a consolation prize. No. I win. Thrill

the desire, the want to initiate

fighting, fingers unbuttoning, grapple

with the afterthought before I dropped. Dove


into stopping it. We dove

and no longer fought. Lonely?

We let it happen. Grapple

for others instead. Ghosts taken,

she’s no longer there. You initiate

with the only remaining thrill.


The new found, old kind of thrill,

I wait for him. He, instead, dove

into someone else. Lost in their own form of initiate

position insert. Left me lonely

with my heavy thoughts. They used to be consumed, taken

by only you, but I grapple


for the lost us, the thrill of a grapple

gone. The form of initiate now lonely.

He dove from me, my love was taken…


For me.

First of all,

It’s perfectly okay to not be okay.

It’s okay to not want to get out of bed.

It’s not okay to believe you can’t.

I felt like that this morning.

The last time I cried this morning.

There was no reason.

Not really.

There’s rational not-okay

and there’s mentality not-okay.

It hits hard,

like that first strike of thunder

destroying the afternoon rainbow.

It targets when you least expect,

smack bang in the middle of a pool game,

during dinner,

in the middle of a shift.

It’s the demon reclaiming that right spot on my shoulder.

The one the good voices reigned.

My remedy…

It’s okay to eat bad foods.

It’s not okay if you haven’t eaten anything sufficient in days.

And I know you want that bag of potatoes…

You really do…

But why not try them not fried, not baked, not…

Health both inside and out.


I am.

Those sunshine moments,

I’m drowning in memories

I never considered I’d have,

they’re worth this so much.

I watched myself on CCTV last weekend…

I didn’t like what I saw.

She wasn’t me.

It’s okay to not like yourself.

It’s not okay to let that consume who you are.

How can you expect someone to see you if you don’t see yourself?

I think I know who I am.

Seeing myself,

I don’t know.

It’s late at night and I’ve been

fighting with what to say for a while.

I am happy.

That’s not a statement trying to convince myself.

I know I am,

it’s in this battle

where bad days do come,

but guess what,

they do go.


It’s okay to have setbacks of a sort.

It is not okay to let them consume you.

I’m really trying.

Give me that

until I tame them.

This is me signing off for now.

Go find another storm.


Forgot I said I’d post on Fridays…


Technically, here it’s Saturday

but somewhere

some place

it’s still Friday.

Today was different.

Not the same different as it was the day we met…

Just different.

I forced myself to go out…

I’m glad I did.

Though a tad awkward and short

I saw someone

who although often feels like they’re not,

they’re my real flesh and blood.

They’re family

and for that period earlier

it was just nice.

I don’t think I’ve felt that for these

relatives for so long.

I’m not sure if that’s my fault

or the voices of my respective parent

and growing up in a home

where you’ve always been told we stick out.

Anyway, was pleasant.

Then I saw you.

Sexy bartender.

But not really.

You don’t need the bar,

and you’re more cute than sexy

but I guess, so am I.

We had a few hours together

and you built my new bike for me.

My legs already ache,

in particular upper legs

and I’ve already fallen off once

splat on the pavement


thank you.

I love it,

you more

but it’s a close second.


Then I saw that video

before we met.

Your hair was different.

Your clothes the same.

That first date waist coat.

It’s fucking adorable.

You’re adorable,

even if you weren’t ‘yourself,’

and I already can’t wait to see you tomorrow.



Our version…

I won’t lie,

I’m not sure what it is yet.

Thoughts are getting louder again

and maybe I’m getting quieter

but they’re thunder

while I’m still learning to dance through the storm.

They often won’t shut up

and some days are hard,



please disappear.

All I can ask is…

Don’t give up on us

because perhaps our version could be more than our forever.

I’m investing time in us…

Well and ice cream and my heart…

I want you and this and us

but only if you do as well.

Still crushing on you

from that first day

with your hair and scarves and kind words.

Our version can be good,

because I’m still trying to clear out the bad.

I’ll always be trying,

someday maybe even succeeding.

Wednesday was magic…

Our version could be that.

Next time,

take-out, movies and cuddles?