And she sat up there
Words like rose petals floating from mouth to floor
And I’m just perched here in awe
Having travelled an hour and a half door to door
To listen to words that are honey-like
Dripping into the mic
Sweet and inspiring
Forehead perspiring (don’t all of ours)
And I’m fearful for tomorrow
For the fruits it’ll bring
A dark shadow sewn into my skin
Brain etched in a fog
Burnt out by the London smog.
After the gig I paced up and down Tottenham court road
Like a wildly indecisive runner
With too much time on her hands
And a stomach full of Dr Pepper
Couldn’t bring myself to go back in
And bare my soul to someone new
Whose job isn’t to listen to me natter
Burst my thoughts forth in glorious splatter
So I trudged to the tube and hissed at tourists who wouldn’t move
As quickly as my marathon legs
Short and strong
I made the hour journey back home
Walking up a dimlit alley I’m fearful of tomorrow
And I’m laced with sorrow
It permeates my core
And leaves me sore
But strong all the same
For ever more.
talking to my pillow. 