Random thoughts in my notebook. Some become music while others just float around waiting.
This is the one true thing I heard as you drove away.Tell people how you feel you said.Don’t leave it for someone to pick upIn a notebook, a letter or song.I have been telling them and my words are met with angry stares and ‘you don’t appreciate my love for you…’ or eyes that can’t reach mine in the morning.I walk around with the one true thing you left me with.A chest that needs to be emptied out and voice that’s forgotten how to lie.*They don’t know do they?All it takes are small pieces of broken,woven in moonlight and whiskey for memory to flood gold every song I write.*
Every child comes with a gift..
All gifts are stitched deep into our skins, before we are born. Mother told me I came into this world with no voice.
I remember the taste of scorched words as I reached for the sun the first time, when I heard thunder and lightning.
It streaked across my sky, cut into my hands, burnt the top of my head, scorched the soles of my feet. I tried to run. I tried… but the space was so small, so warm, too warm, too dark, I couldn’t move fast enough, I couldn’t, I tried, I tried…
‘He doesn’t love me enough to …’ Said the thunder.
‘I am not good enough’ it said rumbling across my sky.
‘What will I do with this child growing inside me? What will become of us…’
Faster and louder the sound became.
Fire reached the small of my bones, the light in my eyes.
I swallowed the sun whole, so I could stop hearing the lightning. My Mother’s lighting, my Mothers fear… No one will ever love you, It whispered. No one will care enough, it laughed. No one ever warned me that a swallowed sun steals more than just one’s voice.