[in the style of Private Dancer - Tina Turner]

FOR @SWEETMANDARIN

All the food comes in the kitchen
You aim to serve them as a main,
You put some into a Blender,
Because you've got to make •soup again.

You don't think of Veg as human,
Though a Vegan would disagree.
As you chop and slice and dice them
Making meals of every pea

I'm your Private Head-chef
With a penchant for honey to add to that hot chicken stew,
I'm your private head-chef
It might seem quite funny but not any Chicken will do.

I gotta make a million starters,
I might include some Celery,
Gotta make my food seem healthy,
Maybe I should make them gluten-free.

All the customers are fussy,
I need to provide for them all,
As their paying for my cooking,
I need to chill and keep my cool.

I'm your Private Head-chef
With a penchant for honey to add to that hot chicken stew,
I'm your private head-chef
It might seem quite funny but not any Chicken will do.

"Burger with Salad,
A side of relish will do nicely thank you.
Ooh, I'll change that order, sorry,
Tell me can you make that linguine again?"

*Written April 08

Hey. I really didn't know what to do about us. I am honestly surprised at my courage to let go of something I like so much. I am fully aware that we both created something where two totally different people existed together and that the timing of such has been the cause of the end. I would like to say that it is because we are too different but I feel it is not about that. I hear you resonating these words of 'maybe we are just too different' in your head but allow me to elaborate.

Our differences would have been what makes a relationship like ours stronger because a relationship survives on discovered and adaptation. You and I have differences. You are logical, practical and independent. I, on the other hand, am passionate, creative and exist to please and engage those around me. 

IF FALLING IN LOVE WAS SUMMISED BY A SIMULTANEOUS EQUATION THEN WE'VE GOT IT. We had it.

However, falling in love isn't that simple and I believe that our situation is impacted by our circumstance. Neither of us were particularly ready for a relationship. You have a world that doesn't have time for the kind of relationship that I offer - currently. That is no reflection on you. This merely shows us that time serves great purpose in finding someone and we have met at the wrong time - perhaps. Perhaps this is an excuse for me to find comfort in my own rationale.

In the mean time, London can be a lonely place if you don't reach out... and I know you. Just because I can't share a relationship with you, it doesn't mean I won't stop caring for you as a friend. 

Remember, we may have our differences but wouldn't the world be boring if everyone was the same? 

*Written April 08

I love you. I am in love with you. The words tumble out - sliding off my tongue and landing harshly onto uncomfortable silence. I don't mean for these words to create fear or discomfort. The anxiety I've already gone through and the pain I've endured to adjust myself to this revelation could be enough for both.

I stand before you on a page, immortalised by just three words that will change how you and I go on in life together. Either we stand on separate platforms and catch a different train to one another OR we wait on this one together. Metaphorically speaking, I'm happy to wait for your train to arrive, if or when it arrives. A dream I have. Maybe forever a dream but one that I hope we can share together one day.

I am not asking for you to love me. I can't ask you to love me for it is only your heart that makes such a choice and you, alone, hold that. Instead I ask you if you can see a relationship developing between us where we can be equals? The present means nothing in comparison to what I will hold out for.

Nothing to give?

I'll catch this train. "Single please!"

A reflection of a moonlight sky. 
A world of stars glittering in your eyes.
My hands warm in your embrace.
A fire I can't disguise.


This may be love if I recall.
A Text book definition depicted in me.
Nothing can disrupt this signal I receive.
Not when you are all that I see.


A beacon burning brightly, recognisable by others.
Some see it as inspiration when some dive for cover.


To me, it's just me
and you. Just us Two
in love
For now, maybe tomorrow but
your face will live on in my memory forever.

Dear Stranger, you are my best friend
You hear my voice with the ear you lend.
I shed old words regurgitated a thousand times -
A rehearsed account of my strife, a real-life pantomime.
 
On your objective shoulders you bear my weight
Unquestioningly supporting a world of emotions for my sake.
You nod in understanding and silently reassure
That life is an ocean so deep and profound and raw.
 
An undiscovered territory on which new soil bears potential
For a forest of thoughts cultivated by inexperienced comprehension.
Comprehension of individual emotions represented by seasonally affected leaves.
Each one reflecting the input of life and the output of me.
 
A face of comfort true only in anonymous empathy,
As I wash my hands of stains of guilt and marks of fallacy.
Hands that painted pictures of a life more dramatic than lived,
An artistic impression of how I expected my heart to be perceived.
 
I thank you with honesty yet selfish gratitude,
Ending my torrent of analysis accompanied by an emotional interlude.
Your ear finely tuned to my melody of confusion and restraint,
A baritone vocal singing a tale of love's permanent taint.
 
Dear Stranger I pledge you my soul
For you have seen it's worth and heard it's call.
In lending your ear and absorbing my tears
I will continue to love without caution and fear

The relentless humming of the wings of the striped and furry
Through a desert where flowers exist only in a vision, blurry
Through desire and desperation sees a cactus and rests
But no food bore and no honey to produce. Fear of failure manifests.

The Bee becomes bewildered; fatigue settled she starts to sing.
Her Swansong audible by herself alone she searches for the next best thing.
A baron wasteland, a palette of orange and eternal blue, there is nothing of such.
Her song outplays and in the final breadth of breath she has only the Cactus to touch.

 The Polar Bear, who has now taken to the seas with its necessary skills
Scours the freezing landscape for it’s inevitable next kill.
The Walrus’ tusks and the penguins’ speed provide tiring combat and no success
So he retires to the valleys cold and the mountains high for a length recess.

 For he won’t extend far from his bed no more, whilst he tidies his chamber,
Where no one in years will no of his existence and no one will remember.
As the broken sky collapses and his surroundings are thawed to liquid matter,
He makes one last hunt for the next best thing but returns empty and no fatter. 

In my depiction of the world and the way things degrade,
Death is preordained and life’s colours may begin to fade,
But for now I need not worry because there is one point I can sing
That in searching for happiness the next best thing to you is nothing.