Come watch the sallow, milky moon rise,
a penny casting gauntly light,
glancing hearth and heath and hill and
idle bales of wheat, tonight.
Baby, you’re a heart shaped roller-coaster.
I feel sick and I wanna get off.
We went our separate ways;
you moved on,
I barely moved at all.
You got married,
or so I’ve heard,
started straightening your hair.
We haven’t spoke in two years
(five months, two weeks and four days-
not that I’m counting),
but every once in a while
I see you in my sleep,
and there, at least,
your hazel hair still falls
around your hazel eyes
in many a curled tress.
Waltzing, twirling silhouettes exult the maudlin night,
Waltzing, twirling silhouettes, they dance on shards of light.
At the risk of my blog becoming a confessional (and even greater risk of it actually containing any discernible blogging), I’ll just say this: this last month has been a NIGHTMARE.
And the antidote to the everyday Hammer Horror that has played out across my life recently?
I think perhaps I’ll move to Oxford, and sprawl out across the lawns of the Botanic Gardens, and read all day. Perhaps I’ll seek shade under the very tree that inspired J.R.R. Tolkein’s Ents, or share the bench that Lyra and Will shared across parallel universes in Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials. Who knows.
Whatever happens, I know this: I’m free!
And I can’t wait to take the next step…