Wednesday, 22 February 2012

Castaways and Cutouts

It takes time but in it I let my mind drift. How the softness of silk comes to being. It is not only the material itself but the care in the construction that are so telling to the smoothness then felt by skin untold.

However, there is a lack of caring for the hearts held on my sleeve. It should be a shame.
All I find myself doing is shutting my eyes, or leaving them to haze in another light, and drifting to another past. It is too far, to look out the windows; for what is outside could come in. In theory, inside the cocoon we should be safe, warm and sound. When I am lost, it is the only time I really feel found.

Poisoning sweet words and lullaby chorus by tomorrow not being any kinder. Though, as if stuck, I keep singing the song each night. I find myself wondering if I am punishing myself on purpose by doing this? It's something that I cannot show on my skin's surface and therefore there is some comfort that other's will not have to see the stain left behind. The Secret Sisters knew what this all meant and will continue to show.

There is this stinging desire to go away. Just somewhere for no specifics - to give it meaning would taint the escapism. But experience teaches that no matter how great the distance, the thoughts will be the same.

I can see ahead but this does not dissipate the black clouds that swell. In this full melody all that can stop the shaking and choking is a comforting envelope of safety. Warmth to save the chilling bones. Ebb the sobs. Salty, they roll down each cheek to only be swept up by soft finger tips softly, softly. Gentle, take the hair that falls and covers vision, tuck it behind an ear. Lift that chin and expect to gaze upon eyes. The silken touch convinces that all is not as hard as it seems to be. You steady yourself and take in the comfort. It is time. Yet, when I lift my head, an empty room before me.

There is so much more to this. Wear the tokens that represent more than words. It is not only lovely, it is bittersweet. Secrets are catching.


  1. Your words always sting me; they are so true, but so lovely, and I never know whether to cry or to laugh in astonishment.
    You sound sad, though, darling.
    Know that I love you, that I hear every word you whisper.

  2. " matter how great the distance, the thoughts will be the same." Indeed, how true. And although you may not have another set of eyes meeting yours when you lift your chin, please remember they are ever present.

    Do I owe you an e-mail my lovely? I'm terribly sorry, can't recall if I answered your last.


Thank you for your words.