Friday, 30 October 2009


I miss the days of
flashes of white teeth.
Of red lips like cherries -
inferring nothing.
Meaningless brushes of skin.

I miss getting goosebumps over the idea
of first snow...
Not being judged for letting the wind
blow my mind away.

I miss dancing
and not caring about the eyes
set upon my twirling form.
Twirling with the leaves of autumn;
the rays of summer;
the skips of spring, the steam of winter.

I miss how things were,
before I realised the truth that stole the magic.
Smuggled it away like the ticking
of the clock. Fused and ready.

I miss being enough;
don't you?