Sunrise is a very pink one. I’ve woken with a nagging doubt, but not about the sunrise or its colour. 

If your kiss were the last kiss I ever knew I would die tasting you. If your touch were my final breath I would die longing for more. 

If your face were the last I saw I would die with a soul so full of love, but you bring such life. Unwittingly and relentlessly you fill me with desire. 

There’s no prize I’d accept if passing you by played a part. No dream I’d adhere to without your precious heart. Right from the start I knew. 

He doesn’t see what I see, nor understand the absolute beauty of sitting beside him in silence. How his presence is the fuel that breathes life into my heart. 

All of his struggles are mine. His indecisions are the choices I have. None of this will change me, my feelings are constant. I love from a different place. A place that doesn’t  adorn Valentine’s cards with man made designs.

Don’t question the reasons of feelings and love. What destroys will eventually fall apart, but those who truly love tread gently. 

Thank you for the inspiration x 

Mightier than the sword. Or cowardly in its execution. The words that spill, the things we’d never voice. In fear? Of what? As the ink is still drying our feelings are laid bare…we read over and over for mistakes, but our real mistakes happen when we constantly rearrange. Write it down and walk away. 

Sharing time with those who understand that the heaviness of the clouds above is a weight on the soul.  That on those dark days we remember the necessity of light. Everything we need is right here, without destruction. 

On the cold days when I wished for the warmth, I somehow lost the time between. Longing for what I already had, but passing it by. Dreaming of the perfection that was in my grasp. 

A contented heart in this insane world is an incredible gift. One to cherish and to share. Clarity is magical and even when it wanes you’re left with the thirst to know it again. 

Under the influence a seed was planted. The raging torrent, the birth of a lightning bolt that inspired this nurturing rain.

Under the influence my soul was as captive as it was wild. No cage strong enough and no jailer brave enough.

Under the influence, this intoxicating air the sweetest I’ve ever breathed. Hazardous to the unprepared, now a lifeline in my lungs. 

Under the influence. I am relentlessly in thought, this infinite line, this beautiful unwritten script it never sleeps. Like the narrative in my heart. 

Under the influence, I am an army, not of anger or of war, but of serenity and calm. Incapable of inflicting harm, yet so full of strength. 

Under the influence, I fell in love. Sobriety of the mind has been a journey I took without planning. Love is the influence that brought me here. 

Cynics will have you believe that love only exists for the foolish and that walls created to keep it at bay can somehow conquer this beautiful leviathan of emotions. 

I refuse to be that cynic. If it fails it’s because it wasn’t meant to be. Love remains something incredible and I continue to cherish every breathtaking second. 

In every crowded room you fill my thoughts ❤️

It is what it is, be it state of mind or aching heart. The scars left strewn over pages steeped with emotions. When falling is no longer an option, getting back up becomes key. 

I’m in the bath listening to Ben Howard. It is what it is. 

The dog rose shows its first buds, soon it will bloom into an archway of delicate pink. 

The bluebells beside the doorstep throw their perfume to the breeze. 

Dandelion clocks float effortlessly. More graceful than I’ve ever noticed. 

The lilac blooms under the blackbird’s song. Both so full of life.

Ivy entwined with the climbing rose clings to the brickwork, natures will at work.

The life that fills this space is more remarkable than I can ever comprehend. 

I am blessed to be here. In return I cherish and nurture it. Season by season. 

None of this is mine and as the tiniest of blue butterflies seeks a resting place I’m in no doubt that one day man’s greed will destroy the beauty its incapable of recreating, but for now this feeling belongs to me.