-to a best friend-
canvas adventures of musical nights, hazy moments of smokey times. when whispering turns into giggles and higher they climb.
midnight adventures green in the dark, hills and woods you can tell apart. a guide in the night by a vodka-filled heart.
sombre adventures induced by tears, a sadness we can only share. elevating a friendship further it dares.
engine adventures closing the distance, spontaneous visits and summer heat. a house becomes a home, a new family to meet.
adventures of love we both find, questioning how much it will cost? a shoulder, a hug you offer, I boast.
adventures of laughter closing our days, opening the door to the future ahead. a bond, a tie you offer, things that should never go unsaid.
The pebble smoothed out by the pressures of weakness and “no one heard you”,
A smoothness that creates a glaze of complete perfection.
But a glaze is only a glaze.
The pebble is placed amongst rocks, boulders, mountains,
The pebble is a speck, faded by the blanket of the clouds.
And a speck is only a speck.
Does anyone hear the pebble when it’s engulfed by the waves? Where the rock makes a splash, everyone knows complete awe.
To me beauty is not something to can see, it’s something you feel.
When I am with my favourite few, I feel their beauty eminate out of them:
Chloe – my wonderful cackler, who’s just the most gorgeous being
Becca – my sensible guider, who is so unbelievably awesome and stunning
Tom – my political sensitive soul, who I will protect to my dying day
Biggs – my bestie (who got me though maths A-level) who thinks too little of himself and who I wish could see how amazing he truly is
Nash – my aggressively generous friend, who will ALWAYS catch me when I fall
Hannah – my crazy hoarder, who makes my baby brother so happy and so whole, it just fills me with joy to call her family
Alex – my baby brother, who I have such a wholesome realtionships with, all other siblings are jealous, which makes me smug, no lie. Stronger than he thinks, handsome and funny, he is going places in life. My main cub.
And of course Beth, my wonderful twin, the Paula to my Rebecca, the light of my life and my rock, who tells me my beauty also shines out of me, which is all I need to hear ❤
I love them all so much.
To define beauty I wish you could meet these people, for together they form the perfect definition.
A lioness is fierce, a lioness is protective, a lioness is loyal, and a lioness always protects her cubs.
My cubs are daring, my cubs are bright, my cubs are gorgeous and my cubs could conquer the world.
A lioness will lead her cubs and gently direct them where they need to go, but also let them learn (and sometimes fail) so they grow to be all that they can be.
My cubs are my life, soul and reason for being, they teach me more that I could ever have imagined. For what would a lioness be without her bundles of joy, giving meaning to her life?
A mane of golden hair, I am that lioness, and I will always protect my cubs.
The blackened words that spread over the page,
leak into the spaces not yet filled by meaning.
My words diminished by your dark totality,
the pure essence of truth you are speaking.
My words are fearful and reluctantly –
protected by the armour of a fettered cage.
Yearning for the oblivion of honesty,
where we can speak from the same coloured page.
The outbursts are unbelievable and
endearing, they are trying to offer a key –
that moulds to the intricacies of my chains and
endeavours to release, captivate me.
My words learning the safety of freedom,
constantly taught by your words – the motivation.
You are slowly releasing my honesty too,
beyond walls that are demolished by you.
No man will ever know the closeness and love that we share, for we are soulmates, and forever a true family
My girls really know me like no man will ever really know or see
And they will be my girls, for now and forever
As they saved me. From myself and from my demons. And I know always will. Which is what makes them the truest, most beautiful, wonderful, caring.
An ode to C-Nenny:
Bouncing from place to place in a childhood of neverending moods. Happiness and belonging. Words that were hollow but now as clear as the cloud we are on and the night sky we write this under.
Friendships that have blossomed into something more beautiful than words can describe.
Teaching the meaning of the word belonging and as a consequence, what it means to be truly happy.
Helen Crook, Chloe Jordan, Beth Morley
You don’t feel like yourself,
unable to think, confused, there’s nothing going through your brain.
You can’t think of anything, nothing’s going through your brain.
In a slump, it’s infuriating,
there’s nothing wrong yet your mind can’t stop thinking
that maybe something isn’t right.
You can’t think, so you don’t know what’s not right.
Nothing’s going through your brain.
Everything that needs to be done, remains undone
and you don’t feel anything.
That’s a lie,
there’s anger but you can’t direct it.
You want to shout at yourself to do something,
to do anything but nothing’s going through your brain.
There’s wanting to be the best you can be
but how can you be your own magnum opus when you don’t even know
what that is.
Knowing that whatever you do will fall
short of even satisfactory, you’ve fallen again.
You’re restless but you can’t move, what can you do?
Lightheaded but burdened by the threat of everything unknown,
it threatens it’s impending weight upon your head.
Your brain, your eyes and nothing is working.
You exist as two: one who is aware
and understands but is still incapable of achieving.
You’re trying but limits exist as barriers
taunting your potential.
You stop trying.
There’s the one that thinks this but also exists as nothing,
nothing is happening and nothing’s going through your mind.
You have no energy to not believe in yourself
but the thoughts still exist somewhere,
they’re just waiting.
Where did the time go,
I can’t really tell –
washed away by the remnants of an evening faded sun.
Walking along –
I believe – it did seem
ideal and serene, merely a dream.
Don’t close your eyes,
it will just fade away
into the darkness.
The darkness that is
the moment itself –
behind the veil of smiles the moment is dying.
For it wasn’t meant to be,
I guess that paths don’t collide –
I’ll pretend that I don’t mind
but I’ll remember the light of the evening and the sea sounding sigh.
The hue of pink
a delightful illusion,
reality and hope on the brink
my mind a confusion.
The petals are misleading
far from me reaching,
the happiness I’m feeding
from the illusion it’s breaching.
Stem twisted and tangled
far away yet clear in my mind,
nothing but this rose, not yet mangled,
is the only thing I want to find.
Waiting but searching still,
with the optimistic sight,
that comforts and thrills
my downhearted might.
Ignorant of the now, the present, the living
that you need to take as a virtue,
‘It’s expected of the future for giving
better things’, gloats the pinkish hue.