I Can See It…

When my eyes are closed, I can see it.

The orange lights shining on the horizon

The thunderous mountains just beginning to emerge

The wind whipping through my hair

As my feet pound the pavement

Step after ever present step

When my eyes are closed, I can see it.

The feel of fingers in hair

Eyelashes fluttering shut at the sensation

Fingers grazing knuckles as they intertwine

The pure knowledge that you’re not the only one

Who truly exists

When my eyes are closed, I can see it.


In My Own Company

Solitude is the best friend that I always look forward to seeing

I enjoy my own company far more than others

When no one is talking

I can finally hear

Myself think

Reminisce With Me

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Weaving the Threads.”

Shay wasn’t the sentimental type. Wasn’t one for keeping things for years in shoe boxes collecting dust in the closet. Wasn’t keen on writing things down to remember for years to come. As someone who was very familiar with disappointment, there was never quite a good enough reason to want to keep the outside world fresh in mind. But when coming across an abandoned bookmark outside of a beloved bookshop, things changed. Covered in tiny uni-bomber hand writing, quotes spilled over the edges of the bookmark. Quotes from pages taken from well-known artist and authors, this bookmark gave Shay a new lease on life. Setting a reminder for the reasons why this bookshop was constantly visited. Why there was never enough space on the shelves in the bedroom or living room. Why a backpack or bag was never complete without pages full of laughter, tears, long sought dreams and unbearable heartache. It represented the moment when Shay not only wanted to remember the place inside a book, to remember the world recently jumped out of, but instead to remember every single thing, inside and out.


We shared a lot of things, you and I. We shared clothes and boyfriends and grudges. We shared heartache and happiness and complete utter breakdowns. We shared tissues stained with tears and boxes bought from Girl Scouts. We shared a hard day’s night and sleeping like logs. We were each other’s shrink and each other’s crying shoulder. We were each other’s best friend and each other’s worst enemy. We trusted each other’s flakiness and begrudged each other’s punctuality. This world through your eyes, was the world through mine. Your feeling of the earth, the sky, the grandeur, were also my feelings. We shared the light bright corners and the deep dark crevices. We shared a childhood, you and I. We shared pigtails and food experiments. Scrapped knees and chalk stained clothes. We shared a world on the horizon and infinite possibilities. But there’s one thing that we can no longer share.

The shadowed memory of your heart beating in unison with mine.


You came to me in a dream. A dream of madness and magic and sinful bliss. The light emanating from your body eclipsing all around you and casting it in darkness. I wondered what your presence meant, following me, leading me through this dream space. The spectacle of you was almost too much to bare. I imagined what you would be like in the real world. If you could even exist outside of this wandering plane. If space and time could have only conjured you up. You spoke to me with a roaring voice. One of peace, brightness and understanding. My mind wandered far away. Not wanting to have to truly accept your greatness. Coming towards you, I found that I could only reach so far. You hovered above me, glowing in the light of the skies shooting upward. The ground beneath my feet falling out from under me. You lifted me up and I stood beside you. I feared the falling and ending of this dream. You spoke to me not of endings but beginnings. And when I opened my eyes and the real world once again revealed itself, I realized that you would soon become nothing but a distant memory.