Not this time

The child that never came

sits in the room corner of my subconscious

Soot layers of maternal inclination coat the weathered chair

Stagnant air surrounds

with barren stillness
His curled fingers clutch at bare knees

Worn dominos

from endless play lie at his feet

His calm stare has stopped asking ‘when’

My eyes once again downcast

Not this time

Magic Show

Shall I undo all the memories of you?

As a magician might hypnotize an audience member.

Throw a dark cloak and obscure every moment,

every falsehood uttered

Then pull my white rabbit heart from a top hat.

Yes I would volunteer to stand centre stage,

Spotlight on my pain

Be sawed into halves, or infinite pieces

However long it takes

Numbed to the teeth rasping back and forth.

(Insert audience gasp)

Just to be free of you.
When an empath encounters a narcissist, the former could well do with a magician to erase the whole miserable encounter. No rabbits were harmed during this act. 

Image courtesy of American Museum of Magic. 

Edge of Never

via Daily Prompt: Precipice


Clutching arm to arm

I promise a stunning view

and reassuring every foot fall

our confidence renews


But the trail is tortuously changed

Or my memory of it so

weathered over time

I know not which way to go


My promise of the edge of forever

Gives way to the edge of never


Risk of falling inevitable





Mother’s Day

My child face rests upon your lap

Fingers threading knotted hair

Innocence gently reassures

Gentle mother, be always there
Yet, you are but a half of me

And despite pride of pedigree

I travel far from your ever warm
And as a seed lost to the breeze

The years they pass with illusory ease

Thoughts of return lessen still

Knowing true I never will

Of betrayal

Sometimes in sleep

Twisting in restless heat, I unfurl

The stitches separate and detritus foams

Metal filaments from the knife glistening in the dawn light

Mixed in warm crimson damp


I am only part healed

your rusted blade still sharp

This cruel sport of blood letting


my fingerprints with yours as we grasped the weapon






I am the "little armored one", moving gently through life. Hoping to safeguard my sensitivities with layers of words and the expression of thought. Shielding my mirror neurons at times, or tasting music and spinning till I'm dizzy. Every moment here is a gift.