hesitant...

to share, but feel like I have to put it out there somewhere, aswell as my paper journal. It's a little sad how resentment can make you bitter one moment, and cry inside the next. But the power of poetry and the written word can be so therapeutic.

It's a little rough around the edges, but free verse is the idea - literally free-thoughts falling onto my page.

I'm not sure it's meant to be read aloud... Read on if you wish.

[semi-untitled] aka 'The Witching Hour'

Welcome to the witching hour

Here I wish to transform

From mere mortal

To the enchante of all

Can you hear the clock

It says tick, tock, talk.

Talk to me, and tell me

why you have this incessant

need to lie to me.

Lie to my face, to the others

Lie present in my dream.

Wishing nothing more than

for you to hear my conscious scream.

Welcome. To my bewitching hour.

Do you remember me?

My kind, tolerant heart?

Your magic and mystery,

Presence and power

Succumbed me from the start.

There was time, and plenty of it.

In the wind and rain

I withered, waiting.

Still I hear the silence,

you choose to ignore it.

I have gone from mad to sad,

Out of breath, distraught

Moment upon moment

Pushing away these life lessons

I'm being taught.

Stay away, come close

My heart has been torn

Tick, tock, talk, it calls for you

But it is I who has transformed.

Now we are through.

The witching hour.

Chloe Jane

21 July 2009