So I was going through some old stuff and I found these few lines of a poem or something that I had written and reading through them inspiration struck or something to that effect.

So I added more and it came out at this:

At the moment I’m just calling it Bittersweet:

Do these words really belong in my mouth.

They don’t taste right, to me

They taste bitter

bitter not sweet

Like the ones that usually purse my lips.

Do you know

What sugar coated words

Really mean?

They’re dark,

They’re black as sin.

But they taste sweet to me.

Like syrup burnt to charcoal.

Like marshmallows over a fire.

Like song of broken heartbreak

And desire set on fire

Burning the bruises on my cheek

You tell me that you love me

Under moon and sun and stars

But when the shadows come crawl over me

You set my world on fire

With my broken bones and busted teeth

Under all this pressure

I struggle now to breath

Without you by my side

Please tell me you won’t leave

Wrap me up inside you

And burn away my skin

Whisper that you love me

And draw me all the way back in

So beat me till I’m bloody

And worn

And torn

And sore

Because that’s the way you love me

And I will always be yours

So bring out all the dirty and misshapen things

And I’ll be your caged bird

With white white wings

And when you open the door for me

So I can fly free

I’ll think that I can be happy

But you have broken me.


Anyways, so today something a little odd happened to me. I was walking back from work, a little lost in my own thoughts, probably making some weird ass face, when this random guy – he was kinda cute, although a little gay vib-ish – stops me and asks if I have any cigarette or was it if he can have a cigarette. But any ways I say ‘yeah’ and pull mine out and hand him one, then he asks, if he can borrow my lighter, because he left his at home – kind of too much information, which kind of made me feel like he was lying for some reason, but then again I have trust issues – so I hand him the lighter and as anyone would check him out while he’s lighting the cigarette. Then he hands it back and we both push off in opposite directions.

Alright it was actually a pretty normal interaction and maybe that’s one of the weird things about it for me, but also I was thinking, afterwards. Do I seem like the kind of person who smokes? Or was he just asking everyone? Maybe it was because I’m relatively young looking and I was wearing slightly chav-esce clothing or something?

I did wonder if he smelt it on me, but it wasn’t windy enough or anything for that. I dunno I guess it sort of got to me. The whole interaction felt sort of odd. Although I couldn’t completely put my finger on why.

But hey ho, that’s today.

Odd, tiring, inspiring and as always devastating… or something to that effect 😉


One thought on “Struck…

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