You sit and you sing
in your gilded cage.
watching with wary eyes
as I sit on the sill outside,
cold and huddled down;
just a dirty, downtrodden pigeon.
Nothing like you.
Chirping for attention
and the lies you’re fed,
you dare to judge.
Sing that success
is a cage like yours.
Scoff that I choose instead
to be outside in the cold.
But I say the joke is on you,
my feathered friend.
You may sit and you may sing
but I can fly away, to find my own way.
Feel the sun on my face,
not the reflection
from a gilded cage.
Haunted by the gentle fiction
of life not stalled
by the hounding darkness
of a stifled mind.
Redemption stares me in the face
dares me to reach out
leave my mask behind
rejoin the human race.
I hesitate
knowing the uncertainty
of exposing my wounded heart
to fate.
I wait…wait…wait.
For what?
If I could take all the flowers
that bloom in the springtime,
I would bind them together with care
twine a multi-coloured crown
to sit atop your sun-kissed hair.
If I could catch all the April showers
that fall in the springtime
I would pour each glistening drop
into a pitcher filled to the brim
from which your honeyed lips could sup
If I could take the freshest breeze
that blows in the springtime,
harness that gentle zephyr
and turn its kiss on you
to cool your dew dipped skin
If I could do all of these things;
if I could bring you the springtime,
would you turn your soft gaze to me,
And would you slip your hand in mine?
Then we could lie together,
in the tender hush,
of the springtime.
In my dreams I have touched your skin
a thousand times,
run my hand along your graceful curves
felt every groove, every goose-bump, every pore.
I have touched your hair
pressed its silk to my lips,
smelled its sweet perfume,
rinsed my hands in its luxurious flow.
I have held you tightly, held you softly.
I have kissed, caressed and worshipped your body.
I have used you, let you use me.
We have danced and laughed, sat and cried.
Raged through anger and sailed through happiness.
I know every part of your body,
Every freckle, every mole.
I have sat and watched you sleep,
curved my body around yours.
We are not master and servant.
We are equals in this. Partners.
Both Master.
Both servant.
Giver and taker.
Hurter and comforter.
Castigator and redeemer.
You have transported me to heaven,
dragged me through hell.
We have shared spittle, blood, tears and tales.
Faced the world together and triumphed.
Celebrated with champagne and rampant sex;
Tears and resignation.
I am strong, vibrant and content because of you.
I am everything I am, because of you.
I am better because of you.
But you are only in my dreams.
It’s easy
to blame someone else
when your own mind
strips away the lie
that you call life
leaving you with only
the cynical vanity
that the world is against you.
To let the waves wash over
and slip beneath the surface,
swallow that darkness
as you scream.
To assume
that no-one loves you
so you don’t have to try
or risk getting cut
by the treachery
of rejection.