A Cinderella Story

A Cinderella story is a complete misrepresentation of what we go
Through. We have to do so much more than that girl had to do.
She didn’t doll herself up to make herself look fitter. No. She
Just went to a party, lost some glass slipper. And BANG. There
Prince Charming was. And he immediately adored her simply
Because… That’s right, nobody knows. She went on a night out,
Lost a shoe, which is something the best of us do, but somehow
She ended up with a guy. Annoyingly she didn’t even try. Then
They moved in together, got married, had kids (seriously who
Was naïve enough to think up this?), and they did it all whilst
In love, without nerves or trepidation. Has there ever been a
Bigger misrepresentation?

I'm just tired

I’m just tired. I’m working so hard on assignments that you
Read and discard as another “good piece of work”. I dream
Of revision, and approach everything with the apprehension
That one carries with them into an exam. People tell me to
Leave my exam nerves at home but I don’t think I can, even
When there is no exam in sight, I still feel like there is an
Answer that I’ll need to get right. I’m just tired. I’m trying
Constantly to be better, to push my marks up by a grade
Boundary or a letter just so someone will say, “Well done
You, we knew you could do it.” Which is a remarkable remark
For someone who didn’t have to go through it. You have so
Much faith in my ability, you never expect a disappointment
From me and that’s what makes it so tiring. I’ll dress to
Impress and cause myself distress for the sake of keeping
Other people down. For the sake of keeping other people
Content. And I’ll work with a smile, even though all the
While I’m working, I’m working with resent.

A forget me not

I wonder if when you read this, which we both know you will, you’ll
Know that I’m talking about you. It’s kind of a thrill. As the writer I
Know what I’m talking about but as the reader you’re just trying to
Figure me out. There seems to be an irony in that, given that you
Know me so well. But irony isn’t the topic on which I wish to dwell.
The topic, I’m afraid to admit, is you. Ridiculous I know but yes, it’s
True. The rhyme scheme and enjambment is entirely for you. Perhaps
You’ll be so concerned with literary technique you’ll overlook the words
That the writer (that’s the role I play) is trying to speak. So, I miss you.
Not all the time. In fact there are times when I’m glad my days are
Entirely mine and that they don’t have to be shared. But there are
Also times when I miss the times of comfort, when you cared. I miss
The cuddles and the occasional row when I’d think you were an idiot
And you’d think I was a moody cow although the words would never
Pass our lips. It’s unfortunate that it’s come to this. Semi-anonymous
Words on a page being carelessly left on my internet stage where I
Am the playwright, writing to amuse. No one really knows that I’m
Writing to a muse. You’ll read it and momentarily entertain the idea
That you’re the person I’m talking about here. Then shaking your
Head you’ll say, “No, of course not.” And this will become another
Poem that someone read, and then forgot.

Eco-friendly liar

Oxymoron: an expression with contradictory words. A bit like you,
When the actions you act out, contradict the words you say and the
Words I’ve heard. “No, of course you haven’t done anything darling”
You say, as you turn your phone off and walk away, prepared to
Ignore my texts for the rest of the day. Admittedly, I’m possibly
Paranoid and maybe I haven’t done anything wrong. But someone
Quite obviously has. “I’m just busy” on a Saturday afternoon when
You have nothing to do but go into town to buy a new pair of jeans.
Yeah, I know what you mean. I can see what a time-consuming
Activity that’s going to be. Maybe you’re just taking things out on
Me. Definitely wouldn’t be the first time. “The problem isn’t yours,
It’s mine” which works until I’ve had my fill of being pushed a way
For something I haven’t done, or so you say. You’ve found the time
To read the message but not reply, which you explain with another
Believable lie as you tell me you loved me and that you’ve missed
Me all day. I’ll believe it. On account of being an idiot who finds
Comfort in the words you say, that I’ve already heard, and that I’ll
Hear again another day. You’re quite eco-friendly when it comes to
Literacy. You always recycle the lies you tell me.

Bed time

There is a comfortable post-sex silence. We lie in each
Other’s company, soaked in each other, with nothing
But the sound of our own breathing to keep pace.
I look over to your glowing face and feel content with
The knowledge that I’m responsible for that. There is
A world outside those shutters that we haven’t been
A part of for at least two hours, we’ve been too busy
Exploring each other’s powers and what effects they
Have on each other. It is the novelty of enjoying a
Brand new lover. There are no nerves of failure, we
Are too consumed in each other. Our legs are inter-
Twined. Our fingers twist around each other like
Friends that have been parted by a terrible war. Our
Bodies are in a state of love at first sight that neither
Of us have experienced before. We look over to the
Door, laugh about our reluctance to move from the
Bed where we have spent the morning making our
Very own heaven. We’re not ready to leave yet.

The common cold

Something appears lodged in my nose. There is a dull
Ache throbbing right down to my toes and I’m struggling
To digest the air. Although the weather is fair, the
Sunshine does nothing but buy me some time in the dark,
My eyes can no longer handle this daylight malark. It
Would seem that my innards are in something of a mess,
I can’t even muster the energy it takes to get dressed
And my sleep pattern is that of a new born child. If only
I could rest for a while. I’m popping medication to try
And ease the force in my nose that’s making it hard
To breathe. It’s been so long I’m trying remedies both
New and old, but to no avail. There is nothing common
About this cold.

Modern dating

What’s all this about people twittering? All these people
Flittering from one method of communication to the next
Trying to work out which is best.

                                                 “Maybe I should send a text?
Are we ready for a phone call? Voice to voice contact might
Be too much too soon. I’m not convinced we’re ready for
Actual talking so maybe I’ll stick to Facebook stalking until
I know a bit more about her.”

                                             “Is this what you do? Determine
The potential of a love and whether it’s true based on what
They put on their Facebook page? Which, as we all know, is
Nothing more than a stage on which we play a part. Facebook
Knows nothing about the inside of our hearts.”

                                                                      “Mate! You are
Totally right. I’ll check her Twitter page, that’s much more light.
No one puts anything heavy on Twitter. It’s the easiest way to find
Out what she’s like: Funny? Flirtatious? Secretly bitter? What do
You think? And maybe, if she doesn’t seem crazy, I’ll ask her
Out for a drink. You’re right, this is so much better than
Checking her wall.”

                              “On second thoughts, why don’t you give
Her call? What’s the worst she can do? Say no and knock you back.
At least over the phone she’ll approach it with tact instead of a blunt
Personal message that ends “Please don’t write back”. Besides, she
Might hardly ever even check her wall, maybe she’s the type of girl
Who actually waits for a call. The worst that can happen is she hangs
Up, thinking you’re a bit of a prat.”

                                                      “Mate, I’m just not ready for that.”