The Brown Eyed Dreamer

'Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.' William Wordsworth


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One Day

One day you’re going to wake up to an empty bed
And realise exactly what you’re missing.
In between the sheets will lie the soft scent and gentle laughter
Of a girl you fed lies to, a girl you led to her demise
All in the name of a love you knew was never true.
So I hope that laughter tugs at your chest,
And that scent wraps itself around your throat
And reminds you how beautiful she was, how wonderful she was
And how stupid you are for noticing too little too late.
One day you’re going to watch her walk straight past
And realise exactly what you just let go.
Cry out all you want- curse until your lips crack dry,
It was always going to end this way;
You let her slip between your slithering grasp
And she’s too far away to get back.


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Memory of a Summer’s Night

A favourite memory of a fading summer was one
Of a warm bass note resonating in a darkening sky,
Where the night slowly cloaked a sea of bobbing heads and tapping feet
And the wafting scent of coffee and rings of cigarette smoke
Intermingled with the maze of music notes that lingered in the air
Long after each musician finished their piece.
Most of all I remember the crisp sweet air that whispered through trees
Above our heads, their branches swinging along with the swaying tunes
Almost as if they felt the music and were dancing with us
To the last few slow numbers of the night.

And somewhere between the calls of coffee orders and cries of one more song,
Between the rising crescendo of applause and the cascading fall of leaves,
Music fading along with the last ebbs of daylight
And silence falling upon the slowly emptying street;
Somewhere between I heard a promise-
That although this night would soon end
And the memory would fade from us,
Soon summer would come back again
With new nights there to greet us.


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A Generation of Lost Dreamers

I think we should always remain as dazed dreamers;
String ambitions like comets in our starry eyes
And follow their trails across the skies.

I think we should dream of the wonderfully impossible;
Hold fantasies like beacons of soft, hopeful glow
And follow their light wherever they go.

 

Picture version:

indieshite


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A Small Thank-You

I’d just like to take a quick moment to thank everyone who has supported me in these past few months with everything I’ve been doing. Your feedback posts, your comments and your views have all helped me to remain positive about writing, and it’s nice to have a space on the internet I can let myself out and have people not judge. So to my parents, my friends, Dazed, Typewriters and Lyssa; thank you so much for keeping a smile on my face and never stop being yourselves, okay? 

I love you all and have a wonderful Autumn. 

~thebrowneyeddreamer


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Life of a Waitress

The funny part about being a waitress is getting
To glimpse the most intimate parts of a person.
I know how much milk you take in your coffee,
How many sugars go into your tea;
If you prefer flavours or just a ‘plain old cuppa’,
If you daintily sip, or hastily slurp.
You pour me life stories as I pour you refills,
And laughter froths over flavoured lattes as
We share a private joke.

And yet; As you leave
You become just another face among a sea of faces,
Another clanging of change; another torn receipt,
Another mumbled thank you and small smile as you go.
Half empty mugs hold your last traces, a final legacy
Only to be swept up and replaced by another face,
One more coffee order.