It was buried at the bottom of an old pencil case, dry as a bone and with spots of rust starting to take form on the nib. I cleaned it and changed the cartridge, but it still runs dry. It’s been neglected for too long.
I used to love writing, little notes, poems, scribblings in a jotter. It was what I wanted to do, although I was a realist and knew for certain it would never be my fortune. I was never without a notebook for any length of time, sadly not always the same one, meaning I sometimes created mash ups without even trying.
I cringe now when I read back over some of the things I wrote, all that teenage angst flowing through my body and out the nib of a pen, worse still was I was in my twenties! Teenage angst didn’t happen in the back of beyond, there were only hay bales, tractors and young farmers who allegedly did it in wellies. It was only when I moved to the big smoke that I discovered this inner me and my love for the written word.
Seriously, if you don’t believe me when I tell you how bad they were then let me prove it to you:
They say be funny,
I don’t feel like being funny!
I make faces in the mirror,
but that just makes me sad,
I notice yet another spot,
so now I’m feeling mad.
My Mum shouts “Dinners ready now”
perhaps things aren’t so bad,
I go downstairs and stuff my face,
at last I’m feeling glad.
That said, reading back over them now I can remember both the situation and my feelings at the time, albeit in most cases now my heart is no longer breaking….yup…love was a recurring theme, that and loneliness.
Single Sided Love
I know she loves you.
I can see it in her eyes.
She wants to end your sentences,
but cannot find the words.
She holds you tight,
like if she lets you go,
she’ll loose you forever.
she definitely loves you,
but you offer nothing in return.
It’s funny, when you’re younger, actually, any age, when you fall out of love you feel your heart will never mend, especially if you were not the one to actually fall out of it in the first place. You swear you’ll never do it again, and relationships become a taboo subject.
I’ll walk up and down the street,
and they’ll say to me,
“What is it that you are carrying in that plastic bag,
that looks so heavy?”
And I’ll say
Time however is a good healer and with time you become a little more comfortable and sure about your new status. I say a little, because there is always room for improvement.
Part-Time Lonely Heart
I tell everyone I am fine,
happy to be on my own.
But am I?
A part-time lonely heart.
Eventually you’ll realise there is life after love and that actually despite what you thought for the last three months the world did manage to keep on spinning. Time to get your shit together.
when day breaks,
and the sun again resides in her palace,
the birds will sing,
for a new day will have begun.
Written for todays Daily Prompt from the diaries of my twenty something self. There really never was much hope for me was there :)