beauty moves within you,
for you possess a soul different to most.
broken by things once horrible,
you took your experiences and ascended.
boldly moving ahead of your time,
most people don’t get your quartz heart.
brittle feelings once many,
now emotions of all kinds flourish within.
brightly moving along the way,
you deserve more love
for quartz is a beautiful gem
comes in many rare colours.
broken and chipped cups
and sauces sit still in a
crate next to your kitchen
as a true bohemian and
lover of broken things, you
to you, gold and silver joinery,
no matter the cost, is more
beautiful than any
those broken pieces are
your broken pieces, as you
mend the sorrows of your life.
crying over a piece, you forget
yourself and reach for the kettle.
the Wildflower Tea of your
sorrow flows into your cup, yet
the hot water and steam turns
sorrow into sweetness, as you
sip from a cup of sparrows.
Sing your sunny lullaby,
tell me you want me
Love the lies I tell myself,
speak but don’t talk
Lie about committing to me,
hurt me and hate me
Tell me I’ll never be your right,
I’ll say you’re wrong
Haunt me when you speak to me,
about Love, Lies and Lullabies
A shoe sale is on over there;
People laugh at a cafe down there;
They eat cake through there; or
Someone goes on holiday up there,
yet we’re stuck
listening to spoilt
children wailing about
lollipops and money
The burning embers of our love blow through the wind to burn our skin.
From where we came only dragons know, yet it was a place of passionate fire.
We had it all until you tore a hole through my heart and I smashed our love to shards.
Now, we stand in the silent darkness waiting for the earthquake to crush what is left of our love and return it all to the dirt.
My chest aches and yours is broken;
still, I wish we hadn’t fucked it all into pieces.
your sadness drips
onto the floor to pool
in shadows and soak into
the fabric of the building
once there, it stays
unable to dissipate until
others’ happiness does the same
How odd that you
reside in a building
unable to balance emotions
Sometimes, when she sits on the step, she thinks about places. Places connect us to memories, as does music and scent.
She thinks of the cool water of Nelson Bay and the pretty lighthouse on the hill. This connects her to her sister.
She thinks of the grey days with coffee on every corner, a European feel, and a charm only Melbourne emits. This connects her to her home.
She thinks of young days with a hammer for macadamia nuts and corkscrews for coconut eyes in Mareeba. This connects her to her origins.
All of these memories play behind her eyes, as she looks to the red dirt full of cracks under the Australien sun.
The photo is of the place we hammered macadamia nuts as kids.