Caged Birds.

A poem.

we sit here quietly, like we always do

knowing we both feel the same way


so we stare away instead.


there’s so many people around us

that don’t even know we exist


yet all i see is you.


i glance at you from the corner of my eye

but you’re already glancing back.


and i know you feel it too.


there’s a warmth that i can’t explain

there’s something special when we lock eyes


something no one else sees.


the steam rises from our coffees

and i’m reminded of how simple


life is with you around.


but love isn’t always a saviour

sometimes it is an enemy instead


when it isn’t allowed to fly free.


because that’s what this feeling is

it’s the feeling of being trapped


like lonely, caged birds.


and some things aren’t meant to last

but even sadder still


are the things that can’t even begin.


so i guess that’s what we are

destined to expire


like our coffee growing cold.


it’s hard to admit but perhaps

some things are better left unsaid


and buried with a lie.


like a flower trimmed before it blooms

love isn’t always easy


especially with you.



A Week Awake.

A poem.


i’d give my last breath for you

i’d spend a week awake

i’d do anything to keep you happy

i’d do anything for your sake.


i’d work a week straight for you

without taking a break

my heart pours out for yours

until there’s nothing left to take.


in a world where i give so much

why do i feel so small?

why is it i help everyone else up

but no one helps me when i fall?


why do i put myself last

when everyone puts themselves first?

i’d send myself to an early grave

just to make sure you don’t hurt.


why do i feel so lonely

in this room with everyone else?

and why, when i need help

everyone only helps themselves?


i’d protect the very people

that cut me ’til i bleed

i love the worst of you

but you don’t love the best of me.






A poem.

it’s different with you.


like watching a storm roll in from a balcony on the beach.

safe and sound.

huddled together in the warmth of our own company,

watching the chaos unfold.


waves can crash.

that’s fine.

we’re okay here.

nowhere to be, nowhere to go, no-one to bother us.

just the peace in knowing you’re next to me

is enough.


it’s funny how the people we come to love

seem to fall from the sky

and land right in front of us.

and how easily we can forget the beauty of knowing

that someone loves us

for who we are.


birds come to sit with us

keeping a watchful eye.

my dad always said that birds are God’s messengers,

and He watches you through their eyes

checking to make sure you’re okay.

but we’re okay.


maybe we were destined to meet

like old souls from another time and place

meeting once more

rather than meeting for the first time,

as if we recognised each other

the moment we locked eyes.


and what beautiful eyes you have

holding me captive, never letting me leave.

i would happily die gazing at you

drowning in the colour

sleeping in the warmth

for eternity.


perhaps it does not do well

to dwell on things like destiny

but in a world filled with messy, noisy chaos,

who is to say what goes?

there are too many coincidences

to ever really know.


if we’re all made from the same materials

reused over and over again by the earth,

up from dust and dirt and grime

perhaps we have known each other before?

parts of the same flower

the same ocean, the same person.


and fate is a funny thing

that refuses to give up her secrets.

but maybe not every question needs an answer

when you’re in love.

this world is full of mysteries

and you’re my favourite one.







How Strange.

A poem.


that’s what i am when i am with you.

hypnotised by your voice – so smooth, like honey

intoxicated by your laugh, which sings a melody

that i wish would never stop

keep singing

you beautiful soul.


how did i ever live without you

where did i place my greatest fears, if not in your hands?

maybe it’s a curse, that i could love someone so much

because the thought of you not being around

is torture

is pain

is heartbreak.


there’s something about the way

that you make me feel when we’re sitting quietly

no talking, wind blowing, gulls squawking, waves crashing

like we’ve been here a lifetime

and yet only a moment ago

you were a stranger –

how strange.


i never expected the way you would show up

on one hand, bursting into my life loudly

as if to say ‘i’m finally here!’

and on the other, sitting here next to me quietly

with a simple ‘hello’

‘i’m here’

‘i always will be’.


how beautiful you are, when you’re happy

the way your face lights up like a busy, song filled street.

your eyes have a fire

that no one would dare put out.

why would they

when the warmth

holds us captive.


safety and peace had no meaning before you

all i knew was how to survive.

and now, somehow, it’s much easier to breathe

as though the weight on my chest has flown away

flown somewhere else

where it’s not a burden

but free.



Nothing Comes Cheap In This World.

A poem.

everything about you is carved into my brain

a burning memory unlikely to ever be extinguished.

from the hair on your head

to the shoes on your feet

i close my eyes

and you’re there

right there.


the way you stand when you are angry is different to when you’re sad

and when you’re happy it is more of a beam.

you always know what’s about to happen

always watching to make sure i am safe.

even when i never asked

i wouldn’t ask

but i’m glad.


because safe is how you make me feel

and it’s something that i’ve never truly understood until now.

it’s hard to know safe in such an unsafe world

filled with hate and war and pain and panic.

but with you

there’s peace

and quiet.


who knew it would become so easy to memorize your face

like a beautiful statue in a museum or park

that we stare at for so long that we know exactly where every groove is

and can always tell when the slightest thing changes

statues never lie

whatever changes will

always be noticed.


there are wrinkles at the corners of your eyes when you smile

evidence of laughter and memories over the years

and whether they fade or not does not matter

when your face bares the marks of a life well lived.

a life

that isn’t over

just yet.


and that’s the beauty of life, isn’t it?

that until we’re dead, we’re alive.

and you can’t argue with something that has no evidence to the contrary

as much as the logic is flawed.

but flawed or not

it’s true

we’re alive.


the moments we live are so precious

even though we take them for granted until the very end.

nothing comes cheap in this world

and that includes our lives that we must live out.

in happiness.

in pain.

in love.




Airplanes Won’t Help You Be Free.

A poem.

i watch the airplanes take off and land

hoping one day it is as easy for me to spread my wings and fly away.

their lights are winking at me

as though they know something I do not

but what?

what do they know?

and how do i find out?


the wind blows through the windows of my car

as i stare off into nothingness hoping the answer to my problems finds me.

it ruffles my hair and tickles my neck

keeping me from falling asleep

but i’m so tired

tired of who i am

tired of the world.


i could travel the entire world

but i’d still be lost without you to show me what happiness is.

the world’s noise quietens when i’m with you

along with the noise in my head

you take it away

take me away

far from here.


there’s something nice about knowing

that home for me is not somewhere that you can see

but rather what you can feel

when everything else is gone

and nothing makes sense

but what is sense

without insanity?


because the feeling of insanity creeps up on me all too often

am i crazy for feeling and thinking the way that i do?

for wanting more than this materialistic society

more than just being a number

ignoring the hungry

forgetting the poor

killing the earth.


these airplanes fly oblivious overhead

untroubled and uncaring for the worries i have.

because airplanes won’t help you be free

they just carry your baggage elsewhere

where you unpack just the same

the same thoughts

the same feelings.



Lungs Filled With Cement.

A poem.

There are so many things that I want to say, and yet, most of the time, nothing comes from my mouth but a wry smile.

How am I meant to say the things I desperately want to, without revealing how incredibly broken I am?

I watch you all day, think about you, talk to you. And yet the things that I so desperately want to scream, are stuck inside my lungs, weighing me down like cement, instead of air.

I want you to look into my eyes and understand, so I don’t have to say the things I feel. I want you to hold my hand, until I don’t have a reason to let go. I want you to hold me together, because I feel like I’m falling apart.

I know you can see the flicker of what’s haunting me, behind my eyes. I know you can sense the things I don’t say.

Look closer. Believe me when I say I want to tell you. But understand me when I say I can’t.

Because my lungs are filled with cement.

And the more I gasp for air, the harder the cement sets. The heavier I feel. The harder it is to let the words escape.