I started working on a collection of poetry under the full moon. I had an urge to write, I picked up a notebook that I was given for my birthday. It was navy blue with golden pages and my pen was on it like a magnet. The intensity and urge to write was strong. I was drawn to the idea of love, both in the platonic sense and in the unusual. Sometimes love makes you do crazy things.
If I could talk to my younger-self, and all the things I’d wish I’d known back then, but didn’t, I wonder what I would have said.
Sometimes, there's things you can only learn by living life, but still, there's so much I want to share, the trouble is, how do you know what to let yourself learn.
So I started to write something for my younger-self, in the hope that maybe one day, my kids might enjoy it (although, at the moment my teenager finds anything I do really annoying).
To my kids:
Sometimes, I think we are all a little bit broken. We all get fractured from all the previous relationships, and we wander around breaking each other a little more. I like to think that eventually, you move past that and find something lasting- once you learn to love yourself, of course, but inevitably, love always ends the same way. So never loose yourself completely to it, or you'll wind up getting lost.
You'll feel, such happiness and such heartbreak, but love is a splendid thing. Multifaceted, it's an entire world to explore. It will be painful and then perfect, sweet and sour. It will leave a bitter taste in your mouth.
It’s tragic, fleeting, and numbing when life becomes about winning instead of loving each other. But, if you’re lucky enough to find a long-lasting love, don't let it go. But always remember that an unending love, ending, is the most painful ending of all.
When you gamble with love, you will fly and you will fall.
A picnic in a Lunatic Asylum
Imagine something splitting in two, one side is tough and sleek,
Crystal clear with a jagged edge sharp enough to pierce,
The other side simply spills onto the floor and sticks like glue,
It could soar in the sky, but it simply stays put and doesn’t budge,
Well, that’s what a breakup feels like. One person does things
They regret, like lashing out in anger or throwing a bowl of pasta
At the wall, screaming obscenities, at the same time, probably.
…
The other side reflects and breathes, taking time to understand,
Or not looking back with a second glance, while they’re planning
A trip to France, the other simply irritates at this stage and
It’s very unlikely that you’ll change their mind because they’ve
Already splashed out on a holiday somewhere hot and exotic.
The sight of them having fun, only makes your stomach churn,
And you start to turn a little bitter as you nurse a glass of scotch.
…
I have of course been in both places, humiliating myself by going
Blue In the face, thinking that my screaming would change their mind,
And then there was that time I hit the mirror with my high heeled shoe,
Only to be escorted out by the bouncers, with a self-inflicted black eye.
The other times I’ve been stone cold sober, stone cold like a frozen lake,
Unable to hold back my resentment any longer, I’ve been called a “monster”,
I’ve ghosted and ran, acting like I didn’t care, which I still do to this day.
…
The trouble is, that reckless attitude catches up to you, eventually.
You can only keep up the pretences for so long, every time a heartbreaks,
They get a little harder, and after a while you become a record player,
Reputation’s on your side for a short while, usually until your late thirties,
But inevitably there is the fall. Suddenly, you’ve hit rock bottom
And all those people you’ve crossed, come crawling out from under rocks,
And you think to yourself, “God, how many people have I pissed off?”
…
Like a picnic in a Lunatic asylum, You spend the majority of the time,
Being unnaturally ecstatic, whilst simultaneously being terrified,
That everything will go wrong and you’ll lose all that you’ve built,
In a heartbeat. It’s irrationally confusing, and everyone you know,
Thinks you’ve gone mad. The best part is that you get to a certain age,
And you realise you couldn’t have possibly loved those people, because,
Your journey so far was all about you, and you didn’t love yourself yet.
…
Then age gets frightening and if you’re lucky you’ve found someone,
To settle down with that doesn’t care if your bottom wobbles when you
walk up the stairs. Attraction slowly dies and your love life becomes fleeting.
You argue about shopping, but, you’ve found someone to stand beside,
Who knows you inside out, even if they give you something to shout about.
They’ve heard your story a hundred times, know you’re lying in a blink of an eye,
You start to think of younger days and all the times you shouldn’t have played.
…
Eventually, you’ll reach old age, that’s when you realise what true love is,
When the partner you’ve known becomes precious and you place their urn,
On top of the mantlepiece. You remember the memories you’ve shared,
But nobody really cares or understands why you laughed about Ms. Polly,
And the photograph. You talk to others but it’s not the same, silence and
Loneliness pours down like the rain. With no companion by your side,
You wipe the tears from your face, eventually pushing them to one side.
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