By Paul

Would it really be nice if we were older?

I think no.

I don't mind waiting so long.

My Night Sky

It had drawn a line across my sky
And when I turned, there was another
Splitting it into a magic 4 and
telling me that everything was
going to be just fine.

Based on 'Mattens', by George Herbert

I can't open my eyes,
Yet you're already there to catch
my morning soul and sacrifice:


So, Mine, what is a heart?

Silver, or gold, or precious stone,
Or star, or rainbow, or a part
of all of these things,
or all of them in one?


What is a heart?

That you should look at it
and pour upon it all that you have,
as if you had nothing else do?

Teach me your love, Oh Mine;
that this new light, which now I see,
May both the work and workman show:
That by a sun-beam I will climb to you.

All these things

Hmpfh.

All these things are literally making
me forget to put detergent in the
washing machine
,
rinsing my clothes but not cleaning them.

Trying, rinsing my Self too
of
all these things, but not cleaning it.
Not cleaning me.

I'm just warmer now.
Warmer and smelling like ylang ylang.

On crying.

When is the exact point
---> .
that those tears you sob
become dry? And with
that, you feel better?
Like a star ---> *
?

Autumn

Greys like Rimmel, and
dark blue like home, and
with that cherry blossoming
like me blushing, I'm
wondering whether...

That Man

He is Off-Peak.
(Maybe even Super Off-Peak.)
Suited, never a nice word,
never those yellow roses.
Next time. Always a
next time.
And it would be ironic,
anyway; him and me at the station.
Maybe I'd do it then.
Wave him off and pretend,
so that he'd not know it was
the last time.

The way to say he wouldn't be
at my wedding.