Cityrail

Herded cattle, eyes on glass, ears plugged in. A bustling train – so empty; the walking dead. What’s your fear? Fear of contact? Of culture? Of difference? Of the unknown? Smile. Try it. Just once. Make a play. Open up. Closed. No response. Darkness fading. End of the tunnel, Bringing forth the bright. Sunlight ripples…

Sweet refrain

In sweet refrain she found herself observing that which held her back, by taking pause to reflect upon her inner voice – the right, the wrong. From within, she searched and found a treasure held in sunken chest, a heart that beats in love, not pain, beneath her fears, in sweet refrain. ~ Mark Thompson

The Banyan Tree

The banyan tree danced in gentle sway long before this urbanised decay took its place; the selfish choice of man, with a need for more – a master plan? The banyan grew in twists of knowing, knotted in fear; man’s need for growing, and whilst now saved from the sap-drenched axe, others made way for…

Compass

She was his North. ~ Mark Thompson

Coffee?

She was the extra-hot expresso. Her taste kick-starting his day – her petite, aromatic dance tantalising his taste buds, picking him up with a playful bite to his lip. She was the heat he knew, the heat he loved and cherished. Each and every morning, each and every day. ~ Mark Thompson

Just right

She was Papa Bear’s porridge. Too damn hot to be any good, making her all kinds of right. Goldilocks, it would seem, clearly fucked up. ~ Mark Thompson

Fake plastic trees

She was not a fake plastic tree. She was a flower yet to bloom, raw in beauty churned from within. A nurtured bud born from a seed, tossed in the tumultuous torrents of harsh seasons past. She was not a fake plastic tree. ~ Mark Thompson

Popcorn

She was the blanket, the popcorn,and Battle of the Bastards. ~ Mark Thompson

Oxidation

She was the oxygen to his flame. ~ Mark Thompson

111 Fahrenheit

In sweltering heat your body sweats, taking charge I quench, and thirst some more. My hands they glide your body’s waves, slipping endless upon your dripping shore. ~ Mark Thompson