Archive for February, 2011



With the cat like eyes

See and remember

Walking the catwalk


Darkness follows me as I walk this wire. I want from you.. what I want from you

Ordinary things, a card on my birthday.. a hug when I am sad

You see me as the feline – independant, catlike.. yet inside I wish to be stroked

I seduce and I nurture

I fill all your desires, meet all your needs

Where is MY bowl of water?  MY blanket?

Light shines on the catwalk as I take centre stage

Darkness illuminated by a single spotlight

Your love for me?

Or merely that I dream…

I curl into myself,retract my smile and sharpen my claws on my own misery


Padded paws tiptoe behind you as you sleep

Bruised the heart behind

Apply my makeup, smooth down my fur.. I lay down beside you

Model of perfection


By the catwalk




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I watched you sleeping
The rise and fall of your chest
I lay my arm against yours and looked at the mingling colours of our skin
Like an old black and white movie
In slow motion
I traced your eyelashes with my finger to see if you would wake
But you don’t…
I wrote this about you years ago
Yet it fell from my lips today
In a dream it swirled and haunted and fell to the page like ink colored rain
Droplets of yesterday
Penned eternally and awoken today
No amount of heart shaped wishes will ever make you mine I say
I think you’re listening
But you’re not …
I walk along the wire
Hear music as I dream
I pay attention to all of your collections gathering what they leave behind
The torn pages of that book we read
Those hours spent entranced
My lips part to remind you, to whisper words once laid upon for hours
But you’ve gone…

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GYPSY (Who am I?)

Someone I once loved, in another world, a long long time ago gave me the name of “Gypsy”

I never debated this title for it fully described my restless nature and enquiring heart.

Never once did I equate myself with the reasons it was bestowed upon me which were in fact more of a physical nature though strange enough as I view myself from the outside in those long ago photographs I realise that perhaps I was in fact beautiful enough to have earned such a title.. of course as with most things in life we never value beauty until it is long out of our reach

I have moved through many phases in my life and in my quest to please others around me and find my feet in this modern world at times I have lost sight of my true self…mostly because I never saw myself as anything but not good enough and weirdly misplaced

Bruised on the outside My childhood days were spent bruising my insides.. as I grew this became inevitable.. madness? depression? Or simply being lost..

Writing has been my saviour.. my drug of choice for all that pained my flesh and tore peices of my soul

The true “gypsy” in me is ever too fragmented to ever form anything but random offerings but somehow this has always been enough to keep me where I needed to be

I have changed my clothes my hair my friends and my home … yet inside remain wild and restless

I have born children and grounded my feet in nurturing their world yet…. at night I still do not sleep

I tie my long dark hair with velvet ribbons and still write in old journals with an ancient calligraphy pen.. yet.. have succumb to technology and learned to placate the masses with conformity

Somewhere still amongst your perceptions… lay the gypsy in me

I doubt anyone will love me as freely as the one who bestowed that name, for I was young, without flaws..but I still dream and pray for the day despite my tarnished exterior

I am trying to lose myself and find myself all at once and have immersed in writing in a new space to open my world to new opportunities for travels of the heart and mind.. As I most recently told a newly made friend,  My blog here I do not advertise or share with friends at all.. I write honestly and openly about whatever I may feel on the day and anyone that crosses my path (such as your beautiful self) is an act of fate..

I have decided this is who and where I wish to be
Writing must be for ourselves, and if we manage by the act of fate to move another then that is a gift but we must not write to please.. for the only one left out of that joy is ourselves.

On the outside I am whatever you perceive me to be

I can change this by my dress, my tone, what I offer you…

On the inside I am the Gypsy, restless and intense and ever seeking that which I perceive as gold

This.. I can not change for anything


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Mostly I feel lost

Anger burns a low flame from some past injustice that holds me by the throat

Betrayal returns constantly soothed only momentarily by whispers of love

I feel..



Mostly not wanting to be me


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I am ever amazed at the total vulnerability of every sense within a love affair of such complexity and duration
For it exists as if early days when stolen kisses were to bring weak knees and shivers of delight
Yet though these things present themselves as surely as tears fall upon my cheek as we become unentwined
Peace exists only my head against your chest my heart in your hand
and lost somewhere in between without you

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