JanaStormraven

it is in our silences waves break the fallout is forced upwards and swept away to drift along our shorelines turning and turned on gravelled beds years later to be washed up at our feet edges numbed with the tide no longer waste, a treasure to be held caught close and examined sunshine refracts through it our smoothed glass windows to the past

An echo is an echo is an echo. The rising sun is a haze in the corner of my eye. A glimmer that ripples my corneas. Our forgotten scents writhe on the pillow. I burrow my face deep and inhale. This life is the light that was given.

In winter I wear the coldest shoes Seeping through the layers, my appendages Become bitten by the frost That weighs between my ribs

The chill has seeped into the bones A cold that cannot be shaken Settling across the shoulders Sinking into the centre of our being A cloud has passed over the sun.

1. A desert that stretches on. The emptiness of an endless orange brown, a sweeping expanse of sun-fractured earth. The edge of a city. Summer heat ripples through the alleys, rising to blur buildings that dare to scrape the sky. A blue ocean above their heads. A flock of birds arrowing to fresh meat on the highway. The blinding, glinting specks of aeroplanes, high, high away from the sprawling mass. Dust rises on the wavering horizon. A room, shadowed by a grimy shirt taped to the windowpane where edges of glass are jagged. The shirt wafts in a warm breeze. It is cold inside. The metal mug. Dangling. Banging gently against his thighs.

2. Walking out, Nathan began down the stairwell until the door closed firmly behind him. The dread-locked man stopped still and closed his eyes. His shoulders lifted and fell as a sigh was dredged up from the depths. Nathan coiled his fingers about the metal railing to his left and squeezed until knuckles trembled white. A little shudder shook his frame. Grunting from between clenched teeth, he raised his hand from the railing before hitting the palm slap back down. His brown eyes darted to the blank door to Mark's apartment, room…hovel, whatever it was.  "Asshole." He shoved his smarting hands into dishevelled, baggy jeans and slouched d

5.  There is no one else. The words fluttered above her head, circling like the carrion birds cruising the thermals.   There is no one else. A hand touched her cheek, ran a tender finger down the curve of her jaw. There was a soft sigh and the brush of hair against her face. When she woke it was as though, for a second, his breath lingered in the air, his warmth still clinging to her sleepy haze. Then she blinked and ended it all. Words, she remembered words, something… she shook her head frowning. Charles was not by her side. She squeezed the crumpled white duvet and smiled to herself. He must have left for work already. The city w

Last night's take out stinks my floor. I kick the remains in an effort to hide the silence.

A small rise in the hills. I clench my fingers into the soft fur of the earth. Here I am with purpose, Amongst the warmth of nature, Of what was intended. I lie and gaze up into autumn skies, Skies that smile down and envelop me. On this occasion I desire no speech, Only the embrace of another world, To remind me I am not alone. October 2007

And I said, let us holiday to Cornwall, Stride across craggy moors And down through sand-swept harbours, Tramp over stretching bays And run with hands flung wide To catch the Cornish air, Hold it close, And pray to wild gods and old magic. You told me to go back to sleep. I divorced you in the morning, Then threw myself from the cliffs of my dreams. That last rush was all the years I met the morning with your frown.