hot coffee

I thought of you today dear heart,
And wondered at the pain.
As I stared across the cobbled streets,
All slick with misty rain.
Was staring from a window,
Smudged-out people blurring by.
Hands warming on my coffee,
Hiding from a winter sky.
Eyes caught you in the melee
A blue calmness in the crowd.
Jolted at your presence,
Strangled whimper sighed out loud.
You sauntered through my reverie,
Passed within an easy reach.
Am hit with fresh reminders
Of the lessons that you teach.
Of the learning that you gifted
With such generous aplomb.
And helped to turn my life into
Some cliché-strewn sitcom.

And the noise around me swells
With the busy lunchtime surge.
Every thing in slow-mo
Each conversation starts to merge.
You still have my attention
As you cross the shiny street.
I  will myself to turn from you
But cannot move my feet.
Your stride is strong and confident
Without sign of hesitation.
And must concede it yet torments
I still await your explanation.
The window framing your betrayal
Begins to mist again.
So I raise my cup in toast to love,
As you retreat down Memory Lane.



“A timely reminder to me of the promise I made myself a few years ago; we are not able to control the actions of others, should not expect empathy or respect. They have their own journey and it is not mine to chastise. I can keep them company from a distance as they walk their path or stay near linking arms, but I must not make judgement from my view. All I can do is be the best person I can. At all times, kind, patient, and brave.”
~ Lifted from my Facebook post, 24 February, 2014
So the fog is in again, you know
Another day of grim.
Daylight slow and strangled
Once light, starts growing dim.
But season, I have news
For the days will now get long
So Winter grab your coat
It’s time to move along.
The lowest sun is climbing
Trees will shortly start to bud
And my walk into the office
Will not be swathed in mud.
Though, hang on there a moment
I quite like the muffled sounds
As I trudge along the towpath,
Drag my feet through boggy ground.
And I do adore the evenings
Bundled up in winter clothes
Drinking by the fire
Whilst thawing out my toes.
Or sitting in the park, quite still
All cloaked in mystic fog
Watching the blurred lovers
Holding hands, out walking dogs.
And the romance comes with winter
The cosy and the close
It seems to feel more subtle
Like a black and white repose.
So wait, I think I’m saying,
I’m happy with the bleak
Even while it makes me cold
And cuts against my cheek.
I’m cheery with the kicking
Of autumn’s forgotten leaves
And to be perfectly honest
When you go, oh I shall grieve.



I will be in your head, long after you have forgotten my face.
Months from here, years. 
Your happy will be punctuated with tiny whispers of “what if”.
The detail of my smile, fades even now. But my voice will hook around your ears. My thoughts will poke at your conscience. An echo of my laugh will remind you.
I am in your head.
I will be in your heart, long after you have forgotten my touch.
Months from here, years.
Your quiet moments will be teased with whispers of “what if”.
The heat of that last embrace, faded already. But the taste of our first kisses will press at your lips. Our connection, like a pulse through your blood. The memory of our shared laughter will remind you.
I am in your heart. 
I know you
The outline of you glimmers bright
Violent and electric.
It shimmers with life and movement,
The inattention of a distracted eye
A need to be in motion.
The inner cavern
I know less well.
It is murky and messy and toxic
It is tired and wise and ancient old.
With echoes
That pull you everywhere and all over.
A feigned callousness,
You play games and mock
Link arms with hedonism
Tap-up adrenaline.
That glowing grin
A bold challenge to entice,
The Lorelei before rocks.
And I know the you
In tall denims and quick wit.
And I see the you
In dark heart and deep places.
– I am mesmerised by both.
For there, in the essence
Is the soul of a man I do not disregard with ease.
It holds a forgotten rage
It is fire and brimstone and shifting landscapes
It gifts a casual embrace
It is an easy saunter and contagious laugh.
And further, and hidden
A strong and brave man
Who fears and loves and hopes
Like every one of us mere mortals.


There is always more love.
I am a never-ending well of hope and quick smiles. I am a cynical romantic, a pragmatic optimist, a dreaming skeptic. I can read a soul, know it’s dark places. I will seek to gift light or lightly touch. I will climb spires to speak of vistas, move slower for to share them.
I am head-strong, but with this the rallying, unshakeable army of loyalty is in your corner. I am hesitant to weep in front of you, but when I do it is an honest heart-pouring. I am confident to the outside world, though let you glimpse the maelstrom of self-doubt caught inside my ribs.
And there are so many somebodies who will be honoured to cherish me in return.
Or just hold me.
For there is always more love.



Bear with me. This is going to be a dribbling, random, thought-dump. I feel like I should capture them. In the moment, without edit or censure. A fleshing out of my behaviours. Acknowledge how I’ve responded to the past few months… get it out of my head. In the doing so there will be clarity and therapy. There’s also a drive to justify myself; a chance to explain a few things. It feels the time to explore my actions. Look at what I’ve understood to be my part.

I was not looking for a relationship. I was seeking good company. Companionship and adventure. Respectful, kind, ultimately offering fun. But things seem to have become over-complicated, undermined with so many undercurrents of another person’s inability to be honest. Either with himself or others. No, that’s not fair. More, his own confusion and indecision. And the toll this has taken on me is more than I would have guessed. It is taking too long to slough off. And I laugh; all I wanted was to meet interesting guys who were ready to enjoy my company and get bit sparky occasionally.

Throughout I’ve played casual. Aloof. I have distanced and given space whenever requested. Never pressured or become possessive. I’ve disconnected and disappeared at all the appropriate times. I’ve never chased, fixated, or stalked. I have carried on with my journey and gifted them the respect deserved. I have disagreed with the choice to end things each time, but done so in private. Not argued or fought. I am not obsessive, nor an emotional renegade. I am kind and forgiving. I understand from my own heart-history, that you cannot force attraction or a love connection where there is none. Where there is denial or refusal or so many broken bits that need assembling. My caring and energy is wasted on those that don’t want it. I know this and remove myself accordingly. Maturely and with courtesy.

I have not chased. I have retreated each time I’ve been ‘ghosted’. I have continued to move forward and do things that give me pleasure. For what else can we do? I’ve kept dating, kept my humour, and protected my own independence. Aggressively so. And I have kept my dignity.

Yes, I think I fell in love. Maybe? Possibly. But it’s hard to tell. So little healthy interaction and so few pure moments, have made me wonder how I could know this. The connection and chemistry was undoubted. And I do believe there was a world of wonderful possibilities. But the exhaustion from all his coming and going, from the inability to communicate his truth, and his confusing behaviour towards me, has left me sitting with hindsight wondering today, what my heart thought all the fuss was about?

I never asked for anything. At the very beginning, when I knew that he was going to be important, I still suggested he date others, to get out there in the world. But he chose me. And then later, with his continued erratic behaviour, I only ever lightly joked with him – never reprimanded. I admitted how I felt much later; shared mistakenly after an escalated bout of his attentiveness and apologies. But under duress and prompted by him. I believe my feelings, especially given I was not seeking him out, were none of his business. My behaviour didn’t change with the realisation that I may be more engaged than I wanted to be, didn’t impact him. And that is as it should be. I knew the score. And with the caring comes a responsibility not to make my feelings his concern. I stayed light and funny and continued my state of distance. Happy to work towards a semblance of friendship – something I would have felt blessed to be gifted.

It was him that made the moves, sent the invitations, made the opportunity for contact and progress the intimacy. Not me. It was him that planted kisses, and took my hands, and made ordinary sentences seem filled with laughter and hope. In fact, looking back over our communication, I remained reticent. Even when we were laughing and sparking like lovers, I put up a fight not to be dragged back in each time. Gave him cues to cease, options, and ‘outs’.

And this is all moot now. Given he has clearly and finally stated his lack of thought for me. I am hoping that with writing this, I give myself permission to stop wondering what I did wrong or why I allowed myself to be played so badly. It is what it is. The heart goes where it must. But I am able to decide not to hang around or mourn for something that was, in reality, neither fun nor worthy of either of us. And truth be told? I hope this particular muse is exhausted. This is now boring me to tears.

Updated: Monday 16 November 2015