Positively Theatrical. =)

It was Sweet.

We have a history but that's the Past. Huddled at a corner, we spoke and smiled.

It was great to be accepted as I quickly became friends with the rest. By the end of the night, we were completing one another's sentences, whispering & giggling into one another's ears.

I was Happy.

I was completely at ease with the Theatre bunch who shared my sense of humour, interests & lingo.

This is how I used to be - gregarious, quirky & always grinning.

Tonight, I found the old me.

Thank you, D. =)

With Apologies.

There is Nobody.

Even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to pry it out from me.

For I wouldn't tell.

Pride wields a tight grip over that within.

So, this is where I hide,

Seeking solace in verbal threads which I string.

This is my labryinth.

Forgive me if this blog has become dreary & bogged with woe.

For there's nowhere else I can go.

2191.

Every day, it feels as if there's a hole where my heart is -

It has been carved out and hollowed.

And when I do feel,

It is that of Pain.

"Tomorrow, Mich. Perhaps Tomorrow."

And when the sun stirs from the horizon,

It dawns upon me that Tomorrow has come,

But nothing has changed.

"Tomorrow, Mich. Tomorrow."

365 x 6 = 2190

Tomorrow, Mich.

Tomorrow.

- SmiLe -

What's the point of having money

When it cannot buy Happiness?

Eat to your heart's content, Mich.

At least you'll die with a Smile.

Oh, Snap!

She cranes her neck,

So the welts of misery

Are contained in her eyes.

They must not fall.

They must not betray her frame of mind.

She arches her back, for the yoke is heavy.

They contest her will -

A drop at a time.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Crack.

Grit.

Little by little,
A tinge at a time.
The cracks go unnoticed
At the pantomime.

They laugh and they clap,
Before the curtains fall.
They rise to take their leave,
Each and one and all.

Dewdrops.

I've been reading logged SMSes, emails and rummaging through the blog archives.

"If want me, just call k?"

"Call me if you want to talk. Hug."

Here I am, wiping away the glassy knolls from my eyes.

I'm angry at myself -

Why does it matter so?

Despite numerous attempts and even changing homes, the searing pain fails to ebb.

Aubergine.

Her eyes are Red
Because she's Blue.

Ever So Softly.

She lays her head on the table,

And contains her sadness

In the crook of her arm.

Blowpipes.

Never the Twain shall meet -

Or so I'd thought.

Coincidences.

The crank factor has just been upped.