This is the girl, pining away.
Always out of reach, this elusive something she chases.
To belong, to be loved.
Beloved of mine.
Always the hope of this time, this bed, this man, this woman.
No more to cry, to search in vain for nightmares to fill the void.

This is the girl outside.
Cold, sweat dripping down her back.
Eyes darting trying to watch everything all at once.
Strapped in, turned out, made up.
Smile.
Dont shiver.
Smile.
Bite your tounge so you dont cry.
Smile damn you, Smile!

This is the girl, fever in her blood.
Heaped in blankets, wrapped in fur, shivering still.
Longing more than ever for something she will never have.
So far away.



This is the girl at midnight,
face bathed in the light of the screen.
Bluish glow washing away colours, lines around her mouth deepening.

This is the girl, borrowed bed, borrowed life.
Borrowed smile, plastered on a face made of ice.
Cold, cold heart, not caring.
Will he hurt?
This life, so distant.
Eating crumbs of joy, ashes in her mouth.

Droodle.

This is the girl, watching you.
Eyes wide, mouth shut, kneeling on the floor.
She'll bow her head for you, she'll let you own all of her,
but it will never be like she imagined.
Its all flawed.
Sooner or later, sooner for most, you'll trip, your words will stumble,
and she will look up at you, tears in her eyes.
Falling out of love again.

My first droodles, being an introduction to me and my purpose.

Quite simply, I need somewhere besides my notebook to put my scribblings.
I write about me, I write about people I see on the street, I write about my hidden life, (as the title of this blog so cleverly suggests..).
If you know me already, do not presume to see me in all this.
It could simply be a pretty lie, or a fleeting thought.