The afternoon sun slides over the horizon,
giving the sky a kiss goodbye
and leaving the clouds blushing pink,
floating with bliss as they watch the sun sink

It switches places with the moon
who gives the sky a kiss hello
and is greeted with the stars' glow
Millions of dreamy eyes watch from below
as they begin the world's favourite show
The moon dances in their twinkling spotlight
receiving applause and bouquets all through the night

Once the moon is finished it gives a final bow
and slips from the stage, disappearing through the curtains
The sun then brushes the waking world
with a loving wave of its hand,
its strokes doing its own special dance,
leaving clouds fluffed and meadows shining,
song birds singing and faces smiling

And when the afternoon hour is upon the world
the dance of the two orbs start again,
circling around the planet of blue,
one a large golden flame, the other a glistening grey hue,
providing comfort and security, taking care of this little globe,
so full of potential and purity.
And the people below celebrate,
showering them with gratitude,
songs, poems, prayers, paintings and rituals,
welcoming them both with open arms
The eternal ballroom goes on until the end of time
safe and alive in everyone's hearts.

Old habits never die
They just stay in the shadows and hide
They lurk and linger beneath the surface of your mind
Waiting for the perfect moment to strike
Slowly creeping out when they feel it's time

Old habits never fade
They just trick you into thinking they've shrunk away
One night they're gone, then they surprise you the next day
"Remember us? We've come out to play."
Because old habits always stay

A reminder, a memory, a haunting a curse
Reciting all the things you've learnt
Retracing the steps you thought you forgot
A well rehearsed line, a feeling that doesn't subside
A vice that only grows tighter over time
Because old habits never die.

my heart has learnt to move to the rhythm of your touch
your fingers wave the spell, and it starts to dance
sweeps across my skin, and it slips into a trance
it has memorised the steps, and remains mesmerised
even now, long after the puppet strings have been cut,
still it sways to the memory of our dance,
any song sending it flying, mystified.
forgive its foolishness;
it is too familiar, it is too
easily reminded.

i wish life was a video recorder,
so i could capture this moment and rewind it,
or a tattoo you could imprint within your brain.
me and you in ikea, hidden in the zipped up tent,
where we laughed in whispers and kissed in secret
the muffled sound of empire of the sun drifting through the fabric,
the soundtrack to our movie, the finishing touch to our painting.
i now hang it in the gallery of my mind,
revisiting it in times where i miss you,
along with the blue plastic flower i bought for the both of us,
tucked safely above my desk, a halo reminiscent
of our glow.
i wonder if you still have yours.
and i wonder if you think of me whenever you hear that song,
echoing faintly down the halls of your internal gallery.

taunting, twisting
laughing from the shadows
mocking, visiting
me in my worst hours
they’re toxic and dangerous
showing happiness in times there’s not
addictive and scandalous
give me more of what i haven’t got
send me hoping and praying
reality will give me those moments again
hopeless and replaying
better pasts disappearing away
i warp them, manipulate them
worship them, mutilate them
make it hurt less to cope
as they taunt and mock and twist
the knife further into fragile hope
cruel puppet strings they are
playing with a vulnerable mind
all the better to forget
wishing this will be the last time

the imagination can be the cruelest thing
because it's not reality that hurts the most
it's the wanting of a new one
and realising
that you cannot have it.