“Love me. Love me, please, please tell me that you do.” Caught up in the wild arctic winds you cast across a room- When we touched I heard a sort of heaven; a symphony of mandolins Playing in the confines of my timid constructions. Intricacies leaking from your fingertips and from the corners of the … Continue reading Creatures of the Wind
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Grief
I’ve been awake for long so now, Just can’t get to sleep- Thinking about the last time that I heard you speak, How much longer we have, how much time that I’ve wasted I always thought that this would be finite, But the walls of my home are crumbling and Now I can only watch … Continue reading Grief
A Fictional Letter Of Unrequited Love.
My dear, how do I tell you I love you so that it rings truer than any other triplet of words you’ve heard? So that the sincerity, the profundity, of my honest convictions can permeate into the depths of your well-kept soul. This conundrum would deprive me of countless nights of summer night’s sleep during … Continue reading A Fictional Letter Of Unrequited Love.
Flutterbys
You said you called them flutterbys And I couldn’t help but smile – As you held out your hand for their little wings For them to stop and rest awhile. You called a cat a ‘meow meow’ And I beamed in childish delight As you stopped to stroke the ginger cat On our way home, … Continue reading Flutterbys
Butterflies
A short story about indecision and dissatisfaction. When I was young and naïve, and my world had been delighted between sunlit smiles and white winter snow fights, I formed the error in judgement that would come to be my hamartia. I made the stupid mistake of believing, even in my childish whims, that if I … Continue reading Butterflies
The Pointlessness of Poetry
Cynicism is my new addiction, fuck it load me up- Give me one more hit of bitter, god I’ve missed this high Jesus I feel low I embrace my futility and never look for meaning Dismissing true connection for my own self-hating And books that will never love me back – not I believe in … Continue reading The Pointlessness of Poetry
‘Lonely People Are Always Up In The Middle Of the Night’
Staring out up into the abundance of stars and making wishes between my visible breaths, Watching how my whispered words fogged up the window- Then disappear like thoughts, My hands are empty, and the fingertips are cold, Pressing them gently against my skin- sending shivers like ripples over a calmed sea. My favourite book lies … Continue reading ‘Lonely People Are Always Up In The Middle Of the Night’
Butterflies
Last night I dreamt of butterflies, made from silk, then light, then paper – Fluttering between my words and breaths, our eyes were ships, and my hands an anchor We were swept away in tides of fallen wings, dark-veined and too fragile to touch – I watched as they crumbled in my irises, into waves … Continue reading Butterflies
Green Stars
Staring at the green stars curl around our gold fingertips, Sat on the floor, like children, between the pillow fort – and infinity Tracing the outlines of dragons made of blue smoke that waft over the sky Above us Then we’re in a rain forest, in the flickering candlelight under a waterfall made from silk … Continue reading Green Stars
Pray For Rain
I think perhaps I may have prayed too hard for rain; The white clouds have been bruised, beaten purple with my insistent demands Water squeezed, stolen from the pores of the empty skies Terrified fling themselves to the Earth - No, it is not water that falls, but tears Tears falling down from her heavenly … Continue reading Pray For Rain
Alicia Jones Poetry 