Wednesday, 15 July 2009


My snow white apple was waiting for me on the table, shining red with the light from the window. I blinked and it turned brown. I'm going to eat it anyway.
The wind outside is shouting... to me? : at me... and I find it harder to keep my eyes open today. There are no rule books here - only fairystories. I turn the pages, faster. Golden coaches with bright white horses, princesses, pretty birds and princes who save.
I turn too fast... that's what I always do: Paper cuts.
A dusty drawer : I pull at its golden handle where the magpies hold it, trip over my dreams and fall inside, holding the book to my heart, my lungs, my ribs ... I will never let it go : Cut my skin and burry it inside ...
I find a marker pen, open the back page and re-write my ending...

1 comment:

anji-jane said...

Snow White... I pretend to be her. I keep going back into my glass box to think and grow. Its a phase I'm in. Lovely post. x