M.K. Lee's Blog: Telling Tales, page 109

Beware

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There’s no need for technology to know that he is there.
Even in this pitched darkness, you are ensnared in his stare.
When they warned this place was haunted maybe you should have had a care,
But then, you always did disdain at those who cautioned: beware.

You moved into this old house and replaced corroded locks.
You blamed the age and creaking wood for all those unknown knocks.
Whispering scorned, footsteps dismissed, unsettled feelings mocked
Until you woke f...

Dormant

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It’s been a while since you slept in a single bed, and to be honest you aren’t entirely sure how you got here, but here is where you are, and here is where you’ll be for the foreseeable future.

Moonlight casts shadows through the strip of window and bathes the bare grey floor in a pale half light, right between the desk and the wardrobe.

The night is unbearably silent, and yet, crushingly loud; every wind-rustled leaf, every passing car, every disembodied voice floats past and surrounds you like an invisibl...

Dim

And so, the night dims.
You wonder what became of him,
Think about how he’s probably viewing the same stars
But, not pausing for a moment to wonder where you are.

You never said goodbye.
He never wondered, why?
Never took a second to care that the things you once shared
Were no longer relevant, important, no longer there.

Do not think of him.
He is not thinking of you.
And no matter what you say, or do,
The night will still grow dim.

Unforgiving

Apology doesn’t bring back flesh and bone,

Or beating heart,

Or the promise that was living.

Nor does it restore faith,

Uncry tears,

Unhear words.

So what I’m saying, is that forgiving

You,

Would be to forget all who have been lost to your choices.

Whose voices can never be heard,

Hearts can never be won,

Hopes can never be clung to

Again.

By forgiving you,

I dishonour

Them.

So I will not forgive you,

Not even for a second,

For all you that have done.

This is my shame,

My weakness,

My sorrow.

And for what’s to come,

We have only to blame ourselves.

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Getting Lucky

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I am not this lucky.

Lewis stares up at his bedroom ceiling in a silence that only comes of it being the middle of the night, and lets his fingers creep across the mattress, until they come into the reassuring contact that is skin on warm skin.

Sebastian doesn’t even stir.

But even though there is bare skin right there beneath his fingertips, Lewis still doesn’t believe it, has to turn his head to the side to make sure there really is a warm body beside him in his bed, that his imagination is not that cruel...

Romance

Romance is dead.
He died a long while ago at the end of a blade
That carved deep into his skin and left his foolish heart flayed.

Romance is dead.
Immortalised in verse and token gestures of the heart.
A mocking caricature of mortal fervour turned art.

Romance is dead.
Do not disturb his condign slumber. Instead,
Heed the warnings on his scarred corpse, worn from heart to head.

Romance is dead.
Reanimation through the toils of a lively imagination will, at most,
Breathe life into a ghastly imitation or gallus emulation; a ghost.

Romance is dead.
The fires are out. Their embers cannot be stoked.
Let them crumble to ash and soot...

Used To

He picks the perfect flower, it’s the perfect shade of crimson.
Its perfume is delicate and light, its beauty is a vision.
Through aisles he walks and stops and pauses
Selecting gifts to show
How complete she has made him
If she doesn’t already know.
He wraps them in brightly coloured paper
With designs he knows she’ll love.
Suddenly shy in her presence
Truly; are words ever enough?
He used to tell her daily just how much she really meant.
He’d fantasise about her and recall each moment spent.
Somewhere along the way he’d stopped and doesn’t really know why.
He needs her now, to understand. If not completely, then to try.
“You used to bring me da...

On The Way Home

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“I want you.”

There is nothing, no other words that Josh can say that make Grant’s knees give so quickly, and his dick stand to attention so instantly.

He breathes it out in the gravelly tone that Grant is helpless to resist, to the point where it’s gotten them into many a compromising situation when around other people. Like now, when they’re on the way home after a night out with friends, probably less than twenty minutes from the privacy of their own apartment, and apparently Josh can’t wait.

“I want you,” h...

Bakery

I am not a bakery.
You cannot stand blithely at my counter,
Roving a hungry eye over what’s on offer,
Steaming it up with your heavy, hot breath,
Delving a finger into frosting that was not iced for you.

I am not a bakery.
Do not come here bemoaning too much jam, burnt corners, uneven layers,
Then sampling me anyway. And neither am I last shop-bought fruitcake at the fayre.
This is no patisserie with edible delicacies set to perfection.
I am all home-made.

I...

The Crazy

I did the crazy thing tonight.
Too much beer. Too much thinking.
I found you…and you smashed me into a million pieces once more.
I don’t even care about you anymore,
And especially with the current…head rage…
Why should it even matter?
You’d think at this stage
I would know better.
What angers me is… How much more?
How many more times setting this up like the perfect game of chess?
Where I’m the one left stranded and discarded,
...