Invited to audition For Miss Great Britain England and Miss Great Britain Africa Founder of the Lunchbox Millionaire Company #HecticEpileptic
Tuesday, 19 February 2019
Postmark stranded
I promised you
Flowers by the moonlight
Something alive
Breathing
Something loved
Needing Oxygen
The way i needed you
Needing water
You are cocooned
Within this soil
Lovers trudge by in dirty
working man boots
and timberlands
Just to tell stories
Journal the days of the living
To those whose
Ears have slept
I miss the laughter
that bubbled from you
before the wine would come
Filling the room
Like a ghost
claiming glares like a gossip
Your laugh was a postcard
Of where we were
Our stamp
First class
Royal air
I am deciphering
my grief
Scared to embrace it
That it will morph and become me
Such a greedy
wholesome thing
Like a baby suckling
At your breast
Claiming buds of milk
I am only 3 months
into this cycle
By the moonlight
The ghosts of other peoples
tears
and snatches of their conversation
piercing my eardrums
It is like being at sea
With a tempest
Like an angry Horizon
It is like being on
an Island
with no boat
My eyes are wild orbs
From lack of sleep
I grow restless in my
own company
pacing the brackets
Of the limitations i set
I miss most the scent of you
Like a burning incense
Making my whole body shiver
The talks into a purple night
as my complexion would pale
For you were somewhat
extraordinary
Where are you now
My extraordinary love
For i am stranded here
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