Resuming

...where I left off.

Yet it's a calmer life.
A life without.
A life in need.

A life I enjoy, yet despise.

The memories are distant
...grey
So many miles away.

I will resume.
Connect the sentence,
link the ink.

The Train Journey

There is a man, who sometimes talks to me on the train,as he travels home. He has been silent for a while and I suspect the following...(please feel free to choose),

1. He is abroad, work related.

2. He is abroad, personal satisfaction and personal time in remote deserts and remote jungles.

3. He has decided to date the very pretty girl on the train.

4. He is drowning in work and the need to save people.

5. He has decided not to be in touch.

No matter what...I miss him and I can remember every moment and every fragment of our time.

Meander

Let us meander.
Creatively.
Let us meander with words.
Let us merge the pictures
and thoughts.
Let us meander slowly
through the chapters
of the previous time.

Let us do
just
that.

A weaving of words.
A slender blend of slumber.

Mood and time...

Time...
tick and tock...
spaces on the white face as the sharp pointers
move
closer.

Childhood Terrors

At night.
Terrors of childhood..in words
actions
darkness.
Fear and the futility.

He walked in.
Pulled the duvet off the 7 year old girl.
Dragged her out of the bed.
Dragged her out of the room.

And.
Made her sit.
In the darkness
on a high stool
at
the
end
of
the dark hall.

No words at all.
she was frightened.
she was confused.

'You are not asleep,'

Her mother said nothing at all.

Her parents,
(her parents who should have protected her),
loved her?

close the door on their room
leaving their little girl behind,
in the dark.
In the cold.

Some time later,
the little girl crept back into her bed.

She cried alone in the dark.

She held her duvet tight
making her fingers and thumbs ache
for weeks after...

A futile attempt to protect herself.

She never slept well.
Especially after that.

Prepositional Mind.

My mind is with him.
Near.
Over.
Under.

Next to him.
Beneath,
Below
And above

Never
Distant.

Spilling

Falling, smooth and warm,
Indelible inky thoughts
Ribbon and swathe
Her blank page.
Embedding,
Seeping,
Drying.

Spillage.
An alphabet
Leaking oily secrets
Slipping and spilling
Into black sticky glass.

Reflecting
nothing.

When ...

When he listens
When she's there
When he knows she shares

Her body.
When he wonders
When he feels
When the moment rocks slowly
When he reels
Her in.

When he looks at the stone
He has too much sin
To throw what his hand holds within.

Flames and Beacons

Darkness and travel.
Again.
Buildings set in the blackness.
Blacker than the sky.

Turning, she saw the flames.
A beacon burning.
High upon a hill
Along the coast

A rushing sea
Then

Another
and
Another, burning hilltop.

Fires along the
Craggy coastline.
Along the craggy crevices.

Warning and danger.
Danger.
Dange

Drowning Words

They have drowned.
His words.
Into the huge water.
Liquid darkness
Seeps over the ink

Severs the link
I have
With him.

They have flotsamed
through...
Distant and faltering as

A satellite shakes his words.
A distant star
That knows where you are..

A call comes through.

Dreams colliding.
Voices smiling.
Words now floating.
Thoughts are gliding
Upon the smooth dark water.

He makes me thirsty
For words.
He make me drink
Him
In.

(c)prettyintelligentprincess

My Skin

My skin is not good right now. Unusual for me...very...
I was so concerned about the weird rash near my forehead that I rang the doctors this evening, explaining I had been ill this morning...horrible vomiting from a tummy bug...still struggling with my burning throat.
'It's a choking rash,'the doctor said, rather triumphantly I thought.
'Oh,' I replied.
He sensed my confusion and explained that if someone had tried to strangle me I would get a similar rash! (Well, that makes it alright then.)
Unfortunately, I seem to have burst lots of blood vessels under my skin with the sheer force of me being so ill, vomiting down the loo...
'It will get worse before it gets better,' he added, so reassuringly.
Great.
I feel fantastic.

Words Over The Water

Cold evenings
cold nights...

Still at the office.
Still

Wishing you were here.

Restless and awake.
No sleep, not for the right reasons.
Ah, no. Not for the right reasons.
(She smiles and ebbs with tiredness.)

She fidgets and turns.
Words all jangling
Memories pivoting...the pieces falling
In

Amongst the jigsaw.
Webs and words weaving and meshing.
Webs and words.

Silky lines...
Invisibly floating and gliding
Over the water.

(Prettyintelligentprincess)

Porn Girl

I have been a naughty girl, a porn girl.
Watching the guys give it...the girls who take it, the guys who take it.

Now that turns me on.

Nothing better than a raunchy strap-on scene to get the juices flowing.

If...

If he holds you, do you hold him back?
If he kisses you, how long do you feel his lips.
If he carresses and moves
his arms...
do you melt and fold into him?

If he sends fluttering words
If he dispatches graceful images

If you want
If you feel
If you can...

If the human touch is there,
do you open your arms?

Feeling Unsure.

To have an opportunity to be utterly naughty, rude, immoral...
To have the childcare taken care of...
To actually have the time...
Is an amazing thing actually.
Usually, I grab it with both hands and open thighs.

But...
I hoped so much he'd cancelled this Friday.

Nails done today. I relaxed.
Wax...a hot one on those girly areas...done. No pressure.

Looks good.
Feels good.


Then he texts.
Mr Home Office is pushy.
I don't like pushy...but I don't like feeling so lonely either.

A Day Out

At the Museum of Science and Industry, Manchester...UK.
Great day.

Cobbles and tunnels and steam.
Paintings and motion and Mona.

It's Just Not

It's just not the red feathering of the beautiful sky,
It's not the deepness of the clouds.
It's just not the promise of love or lust.
It's just not the hiding of one who cries

...with dark tumultuous greyness.

It's just not
the moment we want.
It's just not the moment we dream.

It is only a moment we catch and hold,
A fragile and china glimpse.
...It's just not the sound we want to hear as it smashes,
smatters
tinkles away,
and finally rests in shards and shrieks.

It's just not the whole;
it's just not what we may
grasp.

It is..
but a moment.
It is not the whole.
It is not the full.
It is not the drowning sensation of too much...
It is just not that.

It is just not
nothing
at
all.

©Prettyintelligentprincess

Numb

Alcohol has blurred the brain,
The body is blurred too.
Numb.
Peaceful.
Calm.

Feeling him on my lips
Feeling him tentatively between my thighs,
His hands smoothly over my hips,
Atop of me,
Astride...

Numb.
Peaceful.
Calm.

Not even a flicker,
A shiver
Not even a gorgeous, juicy, secret quiver
Escapes from me now.

For now, I am numb.
I am the only one
On
Top
Of
Me

The only one astride.

©Prettyintelligentprincess

Too Much

I feel too much.
Deep breaths and stillness walking in.
Empty and yet filled with abrasion and political silence.
She lies.
Lies.
Lies some more.
Sitting within my shell I dignify my quietness.
Quietness against the barrage.
I feel inadequate.
I feel weak.
I feel I've let the side down.
I feel.
I feel too much.

Brittling composure and fabricated ruin.
Fabricated failure.
Threatening.Threatening.

No waterproofing today.
Leaving a dark, black mascara trail.
The hands are clasped.
The heart absorbs another jolt of hurt.

When will it end.
Glimmering, lightning flash of self harm, self death.
Images of the knife that won't cut through.
Mind standing up for the raised blue vein.

Hauntings are back.

©Prettyintelligentprincess

Glass Tears

It is warm
wet..
downward in rivulets
down her skin

Not stopping
but weeping

she is bewildered and tastes the salt
of her tears.

Still a fragile girl
Under the skin
of her...

© prettyintelligentprincess

Crucible Melting

I wince.
Her words pierce
my mind.
Strained smile, fleeting distance as
the cool and distant response
I give
lands -
on an empty moment.

Empty she is
...a bitchy shell
of brittle threat and stinking yolk.

And more -
and more -
- and more -

...as I walk away,
She tips the tipping point
Flooding the blood
Pushing down the lid

over my words.
My voice.

Me.

(c)prettyintelligentprincess