Different

He said that we're too
Different, as if rain
Can't softly fall into
Sunlight's kiss.

Darling, I
Will miss you
Each day
In the same way

The sun's rays
Pour over the horizon;
In search of the clouds
That once gave it shelter.

Sketches

'Sketch me as I am'
She whispered.
His eyes burned
Into hers
Quietly searching
Before he nodded;
Revealing a
Blank page.

24/05/2014

Love, let me
Press my lips
To yours
May they tell you
In a kiss what
My words could not;
Cannot.

19/05/2014

She saw love as
Fresh & clean & pure
But love is raw
Ragged edged

Love is two souls,
Dusty, naked;
In vulnerability
More sacred.

Cherry Stained

He left a mark
With cherry stained lips
The colour of
Scarlet blood

Unravelled her
Twirling crimson
Ribbons around
His fingers

16/05/2014

14/05/2014

His brooding stare
Liquid black desire
Stirred memories of
Every raspy breath
Every reverent yet
Desperate kiss
Every arch,
Ache

Medicine.

She stared at her hands;
Hands that cradled
The delicate lives
Of others

Two hands to heal;
Two hands subject
To human error.

09/05/2014

I do not lie
Perhaps that's why
My eyes remain
On the ground

If I avoid your gaze
You won't see
The quietly broken
Pieces of me.

Suffocation

Writing to cut loose
The chokehold
Of life's noose
Blunt blade;
Strongly woven rope

And I can't
Get the
Words out
Fast enoug-

07/05/2014

Our eyes lock
In still silence
Yet each syllable
Of every
Unspoken word
Sounds clearly
From his gaze;
The naked truth.

05/05/2014

Each kiss
Left an invisible stain;
A trail of chaotic
Thought in its wake.

Indelibly marked
By his love;
Inside
Out.

Feather

I wish I could leap
And never touch
The ground;
Suspended
Floating
In eternal
Weightlessness.

02/05/2014

02/05/2014

Liquid anger drips
From furious eyes
I sharply exhale
The infernal rage
Fiercly burning
In my chest
Blocking out
Words
Images
Memories

Riptide

Abruptly caught in a riptide
The current drags me
Against my will
Gasping
I can barely
Breathe
Head beneath
The surface;

A drop ahead

01/05/2014

Living In Fear

Living inexplicably
In fear of a repeated error
Once I let go of hope
Too easily
Now I fear it
Being snatched from me.

Frameshift

I feel a change;
A transition.

An alteration
In the strength of my step.
A new emotion
Stains my tired eyes

They do not look away;
They do not falter.

A change in my persona?

Or has time
Bequeathed upon me
A new found
Yet age old wisdom?

Detached Memories

Warning: mind ramble.

---

There are certain moments in life we remember with clear precision. I remember these with a sense of detachment; seeing myself walking through each moment, unable to stop forthcoming events.

1. The day my nan - or naniji - died. I was young. I didn't know her well. My mother picked up the phone, cheerily greeting her sister in India. Then she went silent. I remember how the thud of the phone echoed through the house. How my father dropped the tools he was using to tile the bathroom floor, running to her.

I remember tip toeing down the stairs; watching through the gaps between the banisters. My father held her as she cried.

2. January 2014. Another phone call - one a friend received. We were sitting in a computer room during a free period. She laughed loudly initially as she spoke - normal. But her tone abruptly changed; her laughter tainted with fear. Adamant her friend was telling her a sick joke. Then her head bowed, resting on the table. She left the room. Her friend was dying.

She died the next day. 18 years old.
She was broken. Tears flooded down the face of the girl who was, and is the definition of strength. Herself, another & I in an empty bathroom. I wished I could do anything to stop her pain; to bring her friend back.

Later I realised we were almost the same age. She had left lasting memories and strong relationships. While I had lived every day in the hope of achieving my dreams on another. I had put off things with the justification that the future would bring them to me; trapped in the limbo of the waiting game. Why was life cruel to her? She had more than I; why was it snatched from her?

3. Another childhood memory. The day before my great aunt died - an aneurysm - she happily sat with us at a family gathering. Chair adjacent to the door. To this day I still remember her smile outlined in rouge lipstick. Her kind eyes.

4. August 2013. Shadowing a junior doctor in a hospital in Cardiology. Seeing a dying man. Chesnut ward. His skin was tainted with jaundice. He panted for breath. His eyes stricken with pain. The pain of incapability clung to my chest - I hated not being able to help. Standing on the sidelines as a man was slowly dying. I can't imagine how he must have felt. Surrounded by the faces of strangers on your deathbed.

I think that's what frightens me the most about Medicine - not being able to save someone. And being the last person they see before they die. What gives someone that right? What can you say?

5. Bristol.

Thinking of the word makes me grit my teeth. Being borderline - being an almost grates on my nerves beyond measure. Images of every single MMI station constantly flash in my mind. Every simple error makes me clench my fists. Waiting list. Borderline.

Nonetheless, I am grateful. Being in the 1000 interviewees out of 5000 total applicants was something I never imagined possible. Besides, anger is good revision fuel. Whenever I lose hope, I pick up the Bristol prospectus, glare at the cover, shout a few profanities, before returning to work again.

Life is odd.