O

The moon smiled down at them like a cheshire cat without his eyes, casting a dull yellow glow upon the path in front. The way was strewn with wet leaves and small puddles, but they ignored it and walked, her arm linked through his, in animated conversation. He had declared his love for her to the world in no uncertain terms, and even though she scorned him in public, she secretly admired his devoted nature. He told her wild stories of cheats and swindlers, and how he had come to meet them, and how each time one adventure would end, he would smile because another was beginning. She was his adventure now, and would do all she could to ensure that when he left, which he would, he would take with him a story greater than any other.

All Too Common

I'm late for my bus again. I know I've missed it but I run down the road anyway, making splashy splashy noises as I go on the rain glazed pavements, as if somehow this will give me back the fifteen minutes I lost from being late out of work. Trying to light my cigarette at the same time as running is a mistake, the lighter flame lashes out at me and ash from the badly rolled cigarette flicks up and into my eyes. I carry on with less haste, even from here I can see that there is no bus at the stop, and the world being the way it is means that because I'm late, it was, for once, on time.
I expected to miss the bus though so I'm not too aggravated, I guess I even prepared for this, with a George Orwell book in my bag and four chocolate chip cookies.

I can't seem to stop running though.

My Lover, I'm a Dreamer

You who comes so fickle in the night, and leaves sweeter in the sun's rays; what I would give to have you stay a while longer. Amuse me for this time, my fancy. Leave your thoughts and dream with mine? You say we haven't got all the time in the world.
You live for the night, so I'll dream in the day of a moon without end. Will that fool you enough to make you fool enough to stay?

I'll call him trust

If I give you my trust, will I be betrayed? If I call you my happiness, will I be dismayed? I don't know whether I'm telling the truth or a lie at any given time. Feelings of reality are blurred and smudged by my ideologies. Sometimes I hold back, sometimes I cross the line.
I'm never sorry, though, that way there's nothing to forgive. If you make mistakes I must make them too, but I'd rather make mistakes with you than make them all alone and have no one to confide in, to laugh with. If we stand shoulder to shoulder, we'll be a better barricade to the looming waves, but I'd rather stand in front of you, facing you, and take the hit. At least that way I'll be able to see you, clear as day in all your insecurity and vulnerability, and know for sure that you're still braver than me.

It's easy to be a coward these days; there's so many ways to hide.

Falls, Brawls and Pub Crawls

I have to lean against the lamp post. I try and play it off as casual and relaxed, but they must know. My legs have given up the fight to stand, they're trembling and shaking their fists at me, trying to get my attention. There's no time to think of trivial things like health though; my mentality has long since deteriorated, and I knew my body would follow. It's a god damn sheep, following my mind- the drug addled shepherd- into the belly of a whale. It can still call 999, I guess, but no one will pick up.
I should go pick up.
No, there's no time to think about my health. I still can't decide which is more deserving of my attention; the excitement or the nerves- both need it undivided, but I'm still undecided. Maybe I'll forget the lot and give over all my thoughts to this cigarette which is stuck to my hand.
I can't shake it off.

The Alarm Sounds

The alarm sounds. There's too many awkward moments. I never have those. Everything is comfort to me, I am comfort, I'm made of bloody feathers and fur and soft blankets.
Except I'm not really. I like to pretend.
You look at me. I like that look, that face, but it'll never be enough, it'll never be him. I turn away so as not to get sucked in. It works, I'm free again and I know I can plough on through.

I'll move away one day. You'll forget I was ever here and I'll be having this exact moment with another person, in another place, in another time. I'll be their confusion then, but not for long. The everlasting, ever moving blip on the radar.

False alarm.

Homeward Bound

Thud, thud, thud, thud- the monotonous drone of wheels passing over miles and miles of track, the anti-climatic hum of taking on speed till the thuds become so blurred that you can’t tell one from the other. The dreaded clattering noise, an untiring sound- it’s all happening just below my feet. We begin to rock side to side in jerky movements, the train tilting to latitudes that convince my heart we'll topple over. The platform runs out and drifts away into the distance, not waving, not saying goodbye, no tears in its all-seeing eyes. It’s happy to watch us leave; the last train of the day. We leave it resting in sought after silence, as we take the ritual sounds away.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.