my love

eight pm the district line i'm watching all the trees go by as the sun sets on my cheeks sneaking into my eyes everything is warm and lovely i can taste wine on my lips and feel it in my heart it was only a glass or two enjoyed over food with friends  now everything is rosy sitting here quietly  on this empty tube it finally feels like summer after an uncomfortably eternal june and as i close my eyes slowly i wonder, if everything will be back to normal soon

july 1. too tired there's something about this lack of feeling inspired that's been eating at me slowly like a ripe peach too hard to eat time is going a little faster now have you noticed? after everything being so slow an endless march and an unforgiving april i hoped may would be more friendly pushing us along gently with a reassuring touch promising us that june had her arms open ready for an embrace with the belief the summer we all wanted to chase was waiting patiently warm to the touch and slightly suffocating, yet may betrayed me and june left me exhausted the days ran by  and i could not keep up standing helpless beneath the sun ready for a change of pace and scenery i need to get back to the greenery something more to inspire me than passionate yearning and childish desire for tenuous romance july i beg you bring serenity thick summer air and lazy afternoons let the heat make me tired naturally instead of this constant chasing and endless uncertainty 

i don't usually write anything before my poems, but i thought this deserved a comment. this was intended to be a prose piece but i'm usually incapable of coherent thoughts and decided to just keep writing until i'd said everything i wanted to say. i'm finding lockdown is hard and i just wanted to talk about it. so here's some poetic prose spring is fleeting yet eternal. we are constantly waiting for its arrival. it arrives loudly and leaves quietly. cherry blossoms are encapsulating and overbearing and gone within days but for two weeks the earth is decorated with dancing pink silhouettes stretching across the sky. the relief from winter and the prerequisite for summer, spring works hard to bring the earth back to life. i think spring started not long ago yet i have hardly seen it from the smallness of my window. an appreciation for my garden has inexplicably grown as high and strong as the flowers climbing the bricks of my home, without it i might have never ha...

the sky is a lovely shade of lilac and i want to sleep this year has been an eternity i've lived a lifetime within its weeks despite it being march my friends are few and far apart separated  by distance and disease  and immense uncertainty  the sun is shining almost tauntingly with the knowledge we cannot enjoy it in each-others company  we're in quarantine  self-isolation and social distancing words not in my vocabulary until the start of last week yet now their meanings consume me they are our new reality for an unforeseeable future and all the phone calls and texts and pictures we've shared from gardens and bedrooms none of it will compare to the day we're reunited under this vast blue sky holding onto each other tightly  with such happiness we'll cry but until then i shall be content  with hearing your voices on the phone and your face through grainy filters  from the safety of my home flower...