It’s your eyes.

You have these “I’m an open book but I have some hidden chapters eyes”. The “I’ll treat you right, but if you break my heart don’t think I won’t break yours too” eyes.

They were the first things that drew me to you. I was intrigued.

I felt an immediate connection with you. And you felt it too. Well you’ve told me you did. Unless you were lying.

Sometimes when you’re not looking, I like to gaze into them. I often wonder what you’re thinking. What makes you tick? What makes you do the things you do?

Whether you really love me? Whether you wish that I was someone else?

I question if there is something that you are hiding from me? If it’s something bad? Would I be able to forgive you? Would I move on? Or would it stay in my head, forever niggling at me?

Would I grow to resent you? Would I leave? Would you leave?

But then I look back into your eyes and I feel reassurance. I feel your arms reaching out for me. I feel safe.

Your eyes tell me all I need to know.

Your eyes make me happy.



I’ve reached the conclusion that I’m destined to be alone forever. That I’m meant to stay unloved.

I’ve been single for the best part of a decade. In that decade I have been on a numeral of zero dates.


What’s wrong with me? A question I find myself debating on a frequency.

Am I ugly? Am I too fat? Am I too dark? Am I boring?

What is it?

It saddens me because all I want to do is love and be loved. Is that such a big ask?

The more time goes on, the more alone I grow.

I’ve become a cynic. I glare at couples on the street and pass secret judgement on them when the express displays of affection. I say it disgusts me, but truthfully I envy them.

I want someone to hold onto my hand like it’s their lifeline. I want someone to kiss me, graze my neck, stare deeply into my eyes. I want some one to tell me that they love me.

Why am so I unlovable? Why am I the one still on the shelf? Why am I the one that no one wants?

Why am I destined to be alone? My heart spills over with so much love, but there’s no one to receive it.

I feel empty, lost… I don’t feel whole.

What is wrong with… me?


I shake my head at how ridiculous you are. How little that you value yourself that you can let that piece of trash back into your life.

It’s always one step forward, five steps back with you.

All he has to say is a few sweet words and it’s hook, line, sinker.

I wish I could respect you, but it’s so hard to.

How many years have you already wasted on him? Why do you want to waste any more?

He obviously doesn’t feel for you the way that you feel for him, or he wouldn’t do the things he does.

How can you still love him?

I keep staring at myself in the mirror as I struggle to answer my own questions.


It dawned on me, this was the end of everything I had ever known. The person that I had been, the person that I was, would be changed forever.

I was terrified. All I wanted to do was get up and leave, but my feet were rooted to the floor.

I had been looking forward to this for months. Planning it over and over in my head for years.

But now as the hours counted down, as the minutes and seconds ticked by, the more scared I became.

I wasn’t ready. I needed more time.

My heart pounded against my chest.

Soon they would come for me. They would come and it would be too late.

I had to make my escape.

I pulled my dressing gown around me and walked towards the door.

As my hand reached out for the handle, it stopped mid air.

An image of his face flashed before me. Memories of the love that we had, the promises that we had made to each other.

I couldn’t do this to him. I loved him to much.

I walked back over to the chair and sat down and waited on my future.


The car continued to ram into us.

We had to get away. If we didn’t it was sure enough going to run us off the road.

“Go faster,” I yelled. My throat hoarse.

“I’m trying my hardest,” Tim yelled back at me.

The rain continued to crash down upon us. Making the road slippery. I could see that he was trying his hardest. But it wasn’t good enough.

“You should’ve let me drive,” I moaned. ” I would’ve gotten us out of this.”

Tim didn’t reply, his eyes remained focused on the road. One hand clenched against the steering wheel. He was pissed.

My head jolted forward, as the car rammed into us again.

Tim pressed down hard on the accelerator.

I clutched the side of the door and said a little prayer.

Fear began to bubble underneath my skin. What if he bashes us again and we flip over?

I looked back to see how far away we had gotten.

The car, ironically a bright red, was gaining on us.

I turned my face to Tim.

“I love you.”

“What,” he replied startled.

“I said I love you. I always have.”

His face turned a deep shade of red. The vein in his temple began to pulse.

“And your saying this to me now,” he finally spoke.

“I just wanted to get it off my chest, and I have so there.”

He opened his mouth to say something.

But just as the words were about to leave his mouth, the car gained on us again and bashed into us with much more force than it had before.

I felt my body lift up but I didn’t feel it come back down again.


I liked being alone.

Being in your own company was better that being with someone that didn’t deserve to be in your presence, let alone have any of your time.

I traced my finger across the window, that I had just hit with a bit of my hot breath.

I drew a standard heart.

It was a statement.

A statement that said that I was more than just the other half to someone’s whole. I was complete on my own.

I didn’t need someone else to validate me.

Especially not a loser who sought company from every other female except for me.

No, I had told myself I would not go down this road again. 13 months of therapy has purged him from my soul for good.

He didn’t need me and I sure as hell didn’t need him.

I was happy. H.A.P.P fucking Y.

Capital fucking Y that is.

I wasn’t sat in this bar, because I was upset that the man I had spent 17 years of my life loving, giving my everything to, was remarrying. Oh no, I was here to celebrate!

Celebrate the end of that chapter in my life.

The lost years as I had liked to call them.


The kiss was long and deep and practically took her breath away.

She had wanted it to go on forever but Drake’s lips finally broke free of hers.

The disappointment began to swell. His kiss has taken her to heights that she had never experienced before and she had hoped that it would have led to something else.

A little bit of foreplay perhaps. A girl could only hope.

As if reading her mind, Drake kissed her again. But this time it was a short and sweet one. More of a goodbye I’ll see you again kiss.

Well she hoped it was a goodbye see you again kiss.

She waved goodbye to him as he turned the corner and got into his cab.

She was still on cloud 9, and couldn’t wait to call Rachel to debrief on what had gone down.

Debating whether to take a cab home, or save the money and do a £1.50 bus journey, she decided on the latter.

On the journey back she reflected on the kiss she had shared with Drake. It had been such a long time since she had kissed anyone and she was scared that she didn’t know how.

What if she had been a shit kisser. What if he thought her lips were too big, too cushiony. That she slobbered, that it was too wet. Mortification started to rise inside of her.

Maybe that’s why he given her a short kiss before he departed. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t invited her back to his. Maybe that’s why he was in such a rush to leave.

But then the first kiss had been so long and he did seem to enjoy it. So maybe it was time to shut the paranoia down.

Her phone buzzed and she looked down.

It was a text from Drake.

“Had a good time. Would love to see you again. X.”

She smiled to herself. See he did have a good time nothing to worry about.

But good wasn’t great. And he had only put one kiss. What did one kiss even mean? Maybe he really wasn’t that into her? Maybe he was only trying to be polite?

A bunch more ‘Maybe’s’ floated around and accompanied her all the way back home.


I wish you knew how much I love you.

Even though you’re so misunderstood that you probably can’t even see.

I never knew until recently how broken you were. I was in so much pain myself that I couldn’t see that there was so much pain in yourself.

All your poisoned words and negativity towards me was just a reflection of what you felt towards yourself.

I’m standing in front of you stripped bare. My heart in my hands.

I want you to know no matter what that I love you.

I want you to come back. The real you. I want the woman that I’ve loved all my life to come back.

The fun loving woman, who’s laugh has its own life. The woman that would wrap me in her arms and squeeze her love into me.

I want you to learn to love yourself.

I want you to see how amazing you are. Drop the dead unnecessary weight that has turned you bitter.

You don’t need him!

He’s blackened your heart. He’s made you question what real love is and in turn you’ve stopped loving yourself and it’s turned you so toxic.

You are so much better than him. You don’t need someone sucking the soul out of you.

There is so much more than being someone’s wife.

It’s time to strip off that label and seek your own identity.

Find your way back to happiness.


I stood at the bus stop fuming. I had missed the bus by 30 seconds.

30 seconds that I had wasted in another battle with him.

30 seconds that had made the difference between me being late and on time.

I cursed under my breath, utilising all of the swear words that I knew.

Frustrated tears began to fall from my eyes.

That was the one thing I hated more than anything. Whenever I got angry, tears began to fall uncontrollably.

It made me feel so weak. Especially when I was in an argument with someone. They thought that they had won and that I had fallen from grace.

“What time is the 48 coming,” said a voice cutting into my fury.

I whipped my head around. In what world did I look like the bus countdown?

I gave the woman a dirty look and replied with “I don’t know.”

She gave me a disapproving look and sat down on the bench, her lips pursed.

I really wasn’t in the mood for anything this evening.

My fists clenched and unclenched.

I was so tired of fighting with him all the time. It was really affecting me.

My phone buzzed.

I looked at the notification.

“I’m sorry forgive me.”

Sighing I typed back my response.

“Of course I do.”

I couldn’t stay mad at him. The power that he held over me was so strong.


The pain had long since disappeared.

I was supposed to feel the joy by now right? I was supposed to feel something.

If it was supposed to come naturally, why didn’t I feel anything? What was wrong with me?

I looked over at him, as his chest rose and fell.

He was so tiny. So fragile.

I should want to pick him up. Hold him close to me and pour my love into him.

But I couldn’t. I felt nothing. I was numb, blank. Frozen in a place of non existence.

Was I broken?

I had carried him inside of me for what felt like forever.

I had spoken to him, sung to him. I had told him countless times that I loved him.

But now he was here, the feelings that I had once felt had stopped. They had disappeared.

I was a bad person. How could I call myself a mother, when I didn’t know if I love my own child.

He was a stranger to me.