Into The Green Pocket Of The Coat She Never Wears
She slips messages
written on Rizla papers
every time it gets too much.
Whenever she can’t sleep
she scribbles tears down
scrumples them up,
walks to the spare room
to the coat pocket waiting.
© Paul Tristram 2010
She Can’t Bear To Touch Velvet
It reminds her of intimacy
caressing and feeling.
It awakens something
too big to endure.
And not touching velvet
is a dam
that keeps it all together,
that keeps her sane.
Keeps the ghost sleeping,
stops her ever going there again.
© Paul Tristram 2010
Now The Yearning Has Stopped
She’s now practical
like the post through your door,
like a spoke in a wheel.
She awakes to routine,
the emptiness inside is good
it reminds her
that the pain has now gone.
Her packed lunch is bland
the flavoured drink
is not her favourite.
She never encourages
anything warm
or exciting
to spark her emotions.
Safe in the mundane
of the life she controls.
Tempted not by enjoyment
she chooses the opposite
of what she wants, always.
© Paul Tristram 2010
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.
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