Poetry

Special Offers

How much would you pay for bottled love?

Hanging up on a market stall

like fairy lights, all twinkling away

in different colours.

 

Bright pink for that first crush, that first taste of romance.

Steady indigo for familial love, overriding all those arguments that ended in slammed doors and broken crockery.

Lush, meadow green for those best friends who have stood by you for years

and will do for many more,

possibly because they now know you too well for you to let them escape.

How about that deep crimson

for a person you wish to wake up to every day, forever?

 

The vendor rattles them all enthusiastically as you walk by,

making them dance about,

shouting about special offers for previous clients,

two for the price of one,

a complete returns policy if things don’t work out.

 

She dangles a handful of free samples in your face

and you can’t help but get caught up in the wonderful scent

of love

that threatens to stitch up all those wounds

forming your heart.

 

It’s tempting.

It is.

But it’s fake.

 

Manufactured for the vulnerable,

and I know you aren’t the type to buy into it.

Poetry

Calcified

You find it on the hearth, a tiny thing,

still a flutter beneath the calcified outer.

The warmth inside has faded to a simple prickle

that decreases every moment.

 

How did it get there, who cast it aside

to continue on their life without it,

hoping to never feel the pain and uncertainty that love can bring,

while forgetting how their view of everything

becomes just that little bit brighter for it?

 

You cradle it, unwanted heart,

hold it close to your own so it can share your heat,

build up a rhythm to restore its strength.

 

You guide it until it can beat on its own

and then let it make its way

back to the world

where it can find that reason to glow again.