As The Colours Run (Unfamiliar Ceilings) /prose

Let’s get personal…. (not pg13, kids. You have been warned.)

Written following Holi festival – where coloured powder is thrown during a large celebration.

It’s supposed to sound a little broken in rhythm? Rhyming isn’t usually my thing but it sort of just happened in this one (ha). I don’t know, I’m not entirely satisfied with it, but it was just one of those I needed to get out there.


 

I’m not sure how we arrived here, to this sin.
Naked and laughing, colour streaking skin
The steam on high rise, bright rivulets run
The shower scorching above as our hands come undone.

Our ‘just friends’ lies are weaker.
Carefully constructed lines, cheaper.
Breath hitches
Your hands…

‘We need to stop’
Please don’t stop.

I’m still not sure how we arrived here, to this sin.
From bathroom to bedroom, white covers, stained skin
Gasping against hollow, your neck, collarbone,
Give over the weakness to which we are prone
Your mouth…

‘Don’t start what you can’t finish’
You started me, now finish me-

The hourglass tips
The powder morphs black,
The tide drags my fingers desperately down your back,
Clutching hips, pulse, flow, bite and blood-

Touch me. Turn me.

Send me down in colour and fire
Send me down in waves

’Too much’
Not enough

Send me down –

into the blackest of night where something just snaps
where the tiptoeing and ‘just friends’ facade cracks,
your hips making up for all your words lack-

‘I can’t’
I am

One hand seizes hipbone, the other nape of my neck,
as we ebb, flow and push against our own wreck

I forget how to kiss
I forget how to guard

I can only shudder beneath you,

mind white
just ignite

as the colours run.

IMG_5426

Incarnation.

It’s been a while.

 

/understatement.

Skimming back through those last few blogs there, it hits me just how different things are from when I was last here. Those words feel like another lifetime. The outlining thing I guess is how much happier I am from those days to now.

I like to think of this blog as a travelling home. Like one of those old beautiful gypsy wagons, you know the type? It started rolling in 2007, (which coincidentally was 10 years ago this year), And it’s been through different amalgamations ever since. The last 3 years have been committed to paper, instead of cyberspace, for the sake of my own (justified) paranoia, but that is long passed now. I’ve entered what feels like a golden era of life. Positive signs and shifts lately have led me back here, so I find myself typing comfortably once again – another new incarnation, another new site. Yet another import of old posts from old location to the new. I imported the file from 2012 onwards, and I daresay I’ll trawl back through at some point out of morbid curiosity…

…It’s quiet here right now. And I quite like that. When you know thousands are reading it can really skew what you say.

Well I’d better plump up the pillows and blow out the cobwebs, I guess. Who knows, I might even throw some /prose out there again sometime soon. Cuppa, anyone?