She says she doesn't want to lose me as if I can change it the hour and day writ from birth unchanging   What’s life? What is served to live another one, ten, fifty years what purpose promoted? Is the preservation of I so important? Seemingly hollow as someone said a waste of breath what … Continue reading Lose


Sitting. Waiting. Solitude. Encased, locked, released only by my hand, mine and only mine. Once perfect now scarred, scratched, dented. Used – and at times – abused. Her worn exterior speaks of bond and lasting beauty. Cold, wooden, lifeless at first. Slowly warming under my hand, flowing, stretching. In fading light through darkness, dying night … Continue reading Maton