You write to me from the deepest place the darkest place the furthest place. I think you may be under water but there is no drowning and your heart beats a lie that this life is good.
Without me.
And I wonder was it worth it then? Showing those purple lights, flashing lilac stars - to fill my stage for an empty theatre. I sold no tickets. My invisible audience laughed, although one threw a rose that I later learned had been born a craft nettle.
You cannot live without me you say, so I keep your body in a locket. I wear it sometimes at night. I am curious to see if you can suffocate me even now.
I continue to live.
Do not speak to me in those dreams. I will not answer and I will not remember the desperate pleas you make.
I may cry. Water will eventually rise and my tears are no different.
You read every word of this three times until I write what you want to see.
No.
I have thrown it away. The meaning remains the same.
I am 37 years old, Scottish but live in London. People think I'm a secretary but really I'm a fantastically famous poet that nobody recognises yet - ha. I've had 14 poems published, most by Forward Press (the most successful one being the one that came 4th in the Top 100 Poets of 2005 and actually got me my first money from poetry), 2 in an online eZine, 2 about to come out and one by an American poetry publisher who would probably be better off remaining nameless. I like Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Ted Hughes, Sharon Olds, Frieda Hughes, TS Eliot and Jeffrey McDaniel. My email address is: morney@gmail.com . I don't really have any comments to put at the end of the poem because I think and hope the message would be clear as it is.
If I sound like a complete twit in this note, it is probably because I'm not used to writing about myself like that - or I am just a complete twit and it shows.