Mediocre Poem

​For several years I had to wait,
Behind the locked iron gate
I pretended it was fate
And that you were just late.

But you never came
And I began to blame
Everyone taking part in this game
And accusing them of the same.

They kept you away from me
And refused to let our love be free
They were simply to blind to see
That there was no you without me.

Or no me without you?
Could that be true?
Could it be that they knew?
We belong together, just us two.

So I saved myself inside my dreams
Where, at least it seems
Our love was still held together at its seams
And waiting at the gates for years was not labelled too extreme.

In the dark cold night
My heart and my mind continued their fight
They argued about who was right
And who could turn on my inner light.

Time went by and you were still gone. 
Everything I could, I had done
And I was convinced you were the one
So I kept waiting and realised that in my madness, I was all alone.

The lesson learned here
Might not be cristal clear
But as long as you are not near,
I will spend my time with an other, dear.

me before you

​Who was I before you and who will I be when you’re gone?
Will I be able to breathe when you aren’t my air?
And will I cease to exist when you aren’t there?

Who was I before you and who will I be when you’re gone?
Will my heart find a rhythm of its own?
And will I cry myself to sleep – alone?

Who was I before you and who will I be when you’re gone?
Will my mind find peace and serenity?
And will I remember you longer than eternity?

Who was I before you and who will I be when you’re gone?
Will my smile be brave and strong?
And will I hear our story in every song?

Who was I before you and who will I be when you’re gone?
Will I go back to the way I was before?
And will there be an other opened door?

Who was I before you and who will I be when you’re gone?
Will my brain pretend that everything’s a lie?
And will my thoughts ever truly say goodbye?

Who was I before you and who will I be when you’re gone?
Will there still be happiness for me?
And will it come with a price or is it for free?

Who was I before you and who will I be when you’re gone?
Will I ever forget you?
And will I ever forget how to love you, too?

Who was I before you and who will I be when you’re gone?

Don’t Remind Me

​Were you the stitches that held my broken heart together?

Were you in the words I erased from my page?

Remind me of the reasons why I needed you?

Truth is, I need you to fill the silence within.

Truth is, I need you to fill the pages in my book.

Remind me of the reasons why I love you?

It is all in the songs we didn’t hear.

It is all in the breathing air we didn’t share.

No reminder needed…

World Gratitude Day

​I just read that September 21st is world gratitude day. I am a fan of lists, here are some things I am grateful for:
*living in a safe country without wars or high crime rate

*friends who don’t ask anything in return when I need their shoulder for once

*the strength I recently showed when I reached out and asked for support

*the smile that is always there, even when I am not well

*my husband who makes me feel safe

*clean water and food in abundance

*people who like my writing and comment on it (and don’t shy away from reading my short stories – a not so subtle request to read my short stories, lol. The ones on my profiles and the ones hidden in that collection called ‘Try a Little Tenderness’)

*the air that we breathe daily

*and the sun that kisses our skin

*the ability to write and to read

*Internet

*music that matches my mood

*happy children

*pizza… I so want pizza now, but it’s almost 11pm… I think we’ll have pizza for dinner tomorrow 🙂

*my busy (and often annoying) mind

*(many more, less shallow things)
Can you share 3 things for which you are grateful?
xx

Cathy

Keaton Henson – kindly now

I haven’t gushed about music in a long while. I haven’t stopped listening, far from it actually, but I seem to be less impressable (this not an English word?! I am not as easily impressed!? Better?) lately. By pure chance and curiosity I came across the new Keaton Henson album ‘Kindly Now‘. It was released 16th of September this year, which makes it brand new. I had it in my mail this morning and listened to it ever since on repeat. And I am completely and utterly blown away. I am in a phase on my journey where this album just matches so many situations. And to top it off… his lyrics… beautiful. A couple of days I wrote a poem or a thing, and today I heard his song ‘the pugilist’… oh my… same subject. Just he used better words and a nicer melody.

It’s just an amazing album through and through.

And those were my two uninformed and unprofessional cents. In the end, I am just a person who is very passionate about music…

xx

Cathy

Don’t forget me

​Don’t forget my voice, raspy and deep

Don’t forget my eyes, brown and soulful

Don’t forget my touch, gentle and persistent

Don’t forget my scent, the essence of me, no soap or perfume

Don’t forget my tears, the taste of them, not the reason

Don’t forget my smile, and the sound of my laughter

Don’t forget my words, written and spoken

Don’t forget my love, deep and true

Don’t forget me…

15 months

​And then it happened and her demons won. For 15 months she had fought them off and now she had lost the battle. Just two small cuts. Usually, she only made one deep incision. But cutting along existing scars proved challenging. And fascinating. The way the skin stretched without breaking. The way she realised that the pain from cutting her skin stopped the moment it began to bleed. She didn’t feel the usual calm settle down over her. This time, she stayed agitated. Two cuts. Very small, yet there. Affirming her failure. Affirming that she was just a freak. Nothing more. She grew restless. Determined to punish herself and her body. Transfixed, she watched the drops of blood sliding down her wrist. Had it ever bled like this? Was she done or was there more cutting to do? She started shaking violently and cleaned the box cutter before returning it to its place on the shelf. She ran her arm under the sink and still shaking, she lit a cigarette. She claimed to be a non-smoker but once in a while, she liked the taste of her Luckies. This time, it was different and still shaking all over, she felt so nauseated that she put the cigarette out. She considered drinking a shot of vodka, but she had promised to herself to be abstinent from alcohol and carbohydrates for at least two weeks. She had no intention of breaking that vow. Even under these circumstances. Or was it despite them?

But what was she supposed to do? All alone. She called her best friend but she was busy. It was the usual scenario: she needed someone but the world was too busy to care. She never pretended to be the center of the universe, but she gave all the time and when she needed a shoulder, some support, nobody was there. On a whim, she messaged her ex-affair. It would have been their one-year anniversary. Did he know? He didn’t but it was okay. The moment she heard his voice she had to swallow down a wave of tears. He had always listened. And even now, he did the same. Giving gentle advice, never judging. He held his narcissistic self under control while she confessed and confided in him what she had never confessed or admitted to anyone. She had harmed herself. Now she felt ashamed and exhausted. The tension hadn’t left. But his voice was reassuring, comforting. She never wanted to show him his weaknesses, but now she had done it anyway. He knew. She was naked, soul-stripped in front of him. He stirred the conversation into a different direction. And she let him, fully aware that he was asking for something in return. On a path to self-destruction phone sex with him was just another step forward. Was she his prostitute? Allowed to unload her emotional crap as long as she paid her debts with her body? She hated herself either way. This didn’t change a thing. And yet, she felt proud when she heard his moans and his breathing. She didn’t feel dirty or ashamed that he had made her cum twice too. It were just words. A fantasy. And sometimes, it was more. Like that day. When it released the rest of the tension that had kept her on edge. And when he told her so, she had laughed out loud. A genuine sound. The earlier thoughts were forgotten. She was still shaking all over. But there had been someone who had caught her and it meant a lot to her. On a day, when she had hinted so many times at all the things that weren’t right and nobody thought about asking if she was okay, on a day when she felt invisible and unseen, one person had seen her. And he had loved her. For how long didn’t matter. He had been there. And it had indeed changed her day. Her demons were still hiding in the shadows. Bloodhounds. She wasn’t sure if she could keep them at bay. For she would try. 15 months or longer.