Hello my loves! I went to the library for most of this afternoon, and got some of writing and editing on Frozen Hearts done. Regarding the beta reader I talked about yesterday... I decided to scrap his comments and move on with the process. I think in the long run, it's more important to keep going, no? It was lovely today to be able to relax and focus on FH, actually - I'm glad I've finally made a decision. This week's Friday Poetry is entitled "Paris"It's about love and wanderlust, two of my favourite subjects in the world, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it. xx



In Paris, you told me as you gazed at me for the first time there are museums filled with dreams on paper colours you never imagined could exist in daring, graceful strokes that swirl effortlessly into all the answers to the questions you never thought to ask

I looked at you. Take me to Paris, I said.

In New York, you told me as my tears fell on your cheeks there are towering buildings that bump against the lowermost edges of heaven, and city lights that wink and sparkle even when the darkest night descends just to let you know that you are never alone

I looked at you. Take me to New York, I said.

In London, you told me as I wished for a miracle to appear there are thick silver fogs that envelope the world in a blanket of cobwebs and all the magic people have tried so hard to discover and invent and create comes to life under the quiet of the fog

I looked at you. Take me to London, I said.

In Venice, you told me as I drove too fast and tried to find escape there are long winding canals that snake through the innermost secrets of the city, and the setting sun sends dying rays of gold to light the darkest depths of the city on fire

I looked at you. Take me to Venice, I said.

and then, two fifteen in the morning words turned into shards of glass piercing deep into the places we thought were safe with each other and all the things we tried to hide screamed into the open air

and I ran far until the stars dried the tears and the wind soothed the wounds until I thought I had escaped everything I didn’t want to face –

but you followed.

In Spain, you said, as I pushed you away and closed my eyes – because I did not want to hear about Spain, did not want to hear about Paris or New York about London or Venice did not want to hear about the museums about the skyscrapers or the fogs or the canals did not want to hear anything you had to say,

In Spain, you said very quietly as I tried to delete your apologies from my mind tried to muster the heart to walk away

In Spain, you said there are oceans that stretch farther than the mind can ever hope to fathom farther than any apology I could give you and they sing to the world until the end of eternity and the air always smells of salt and hope

I looked at you for a very long moment.

Tell me again about Paris, I said.