i long for you

Love requires a certain symbiosis, and without this mutuality of emotions and union of the soul, love isn’t there. I don’t believe that love can flourish one-sided, and when it is one-sided it’s the most painful feeling there is. Like you’d happily give yourself to them and love them wholly, but they don’t want you or your love. I simply don’t believe there is a cure for this ailment.

I long for you,

the bewitching  stare of your bright blue eyes,

the magic touch of your hands,

the silky feel of your lips,

the words you spoke,

which felt like shooting stars into my soul.

I lay here castrated by the pain,

the pain that stabs me in the stomach,

of the daunting realisation

that you’re not mine,

but I am yours.


the night

The night awakens your emotions

like an evil witch with magic potions,

the night calls on you

to question everything you thought you knew.

Everyone else is going to sleep,

but not you

you lay awake and weep

and wonder where it went wrong too.

You yearn for the light of day

to come and take away

this heartache, this despair

but the sun wont show itself, it wouldn’t dare.


For better or for worse

Love does not exist without us perceiving it,

in the same way that colours and sounds rely on our perception,

so too, does


We must feel it under our skin, presenting itself in our souls and masquerading as a

rational entity.

Love fogs up the clarity we so desperately cling to, and prevents the perception of life

before our beloved. Once love occurs in the heart, in the soul it is there forever.

Love rarely remains pure and unspoilt, and even after the fact of love the betrayal and

brokenness lingers.

This pain presents itself like a wind parading around in a tornado, starting off small and

insignificant until it is all that we may perceive.

Love changes us, for better or for worse.


Thoughts are constantly swarming my mind, be them good or bad. Plato said that it was good to think, to logically think  and think about a decision before you make it, and it is these thought processes that allow people to become experts at making decisions. For Plato, this is the end goal – that’s what philosophers are, I suppose, thought machines. Once a person becomes an expert in logical thinking, they will make good decisions. But I’m not so sure about this. It is because I think on overdrive that I have bad thoughts, that even when I’m supposed to be happy, I’m not because I can always perceive the possibility of the happiness deteriorating. I find that on the rare occasions my mind isn’t on overdrive,  I can appreciate the many beautiful and good things in life – that for a second, things don’t seem so bad. I can’t decide whether thoughts are a useful mechanism, as Plato proposes, or a mere plague inside my head, a prison of my own-making. Surely if they’re my thoughts I should be able to control and redirect them onto something positive? But it’s not as easy as that, because otherwise I’d be able to escape from the never-ending, overbearing thought processes that control and dictate everything I do and, I fear, ultimately may cause me to live the kind of life I dread – one racked with anxious, paranoid thoughts.

Letters become words

and words become sentences

and sentences jump off the page and become thoughts;

these thoughts plague us from being our best selves,

for if we were to stop for a second

and remember that thoughts started out as sentences,

which started as words,

which were made from letters

maybe we wouldn’t take them so seriously.

For what thoughts have been constructed by letters,

may also be deconstructed back into the mis-match disarray of nonsensical phonetics.